Sandhill Cranes Across the Fence

Standing in water
just beyond a barbed wire fence,
four sandhill cranes
stood on straw thin legs.
Their long, pointed beaks
glared in the sharp morning light.

One lifted its snake neck.
The golden eyes stared
across the fence where I stood.
The crane’s silver body was as stiff
as an electrical pole.

We stood watching each other
waiting for the other to move.
A green Dodge drove by. Frail
dandelion seeds fluttered between
us. Those cirrus clouds close to earth broke
our gaze. The crimson crowned bird
lowered its head and continued feeding.
I watched those sandhill cranes
before heading to my car:
business as usual.

Hackers Stole My Passwords

The screen showed
no document titled “password.doc.”
Planes flew in circles inside

my head. Disappeared
documents, nonfunctional email,
Internet, a digital sloth.

All subtle signs of a malicious
software designed by black hat hackers
to chip away my motherboard and CPU.

The prospect left chills
down my spin. On creeping
Internet access, website

writers well-versed in malware
and their symptoms ease
me into computer hacker lingo

where bots are street vendors,
drug dealers, or gangbangers selling
products to lag at best and kill

at worst. Several forums suggested
products free and fast acting
to cure my computer’s affliction.

Within several hours, the tower was running,
but dear document “password.doc”
was lost

in the
B i nar y
C o de.

Signs from Around the World

This machine
has no brain and
moves in mysterious ways.

A tree never
hits an automobile
except in self-defense.

Stop: can’t go
Back, left, right, or

It is very legal
to go off marked trails even though
invisible signs with worms
may chase you.

If you hit the sign,
you will hit the bridge.

Be prepared
for the unexpected, like:
now hiring fried chickens.

“Destroy the computer,” says the picket sign.
To which I replied, “That sign
doesn’t look handwritten.”

Persona Poem (Mona Lisa)

Behind my glass case
And rope protectors
Viewers of many nationalities
Stand shoulder to shoulder;
Push and shove in their attempt
To gaze upon my rounded
Painted face. Cell phones and cameras
Rise to record the moments the onlookers
Looked deeply into my eyes.

Behind closed doors, curators
Sweat over my painter’s mistakes
As my wrinkles peel
Off my ill-prepared back.
They are my doctors and nurses—
They patch me up when the need arises
So tourists can lift their cameras
To capture their own Mona Lisa.

Decision By The River Part 1

The sun was hot, but the breeze chill, as Kate stood beneath the shade, her Parasol tilted slightly behind her. Around her, couples and families were picnicking, enjoying this pleasant day by the river. Screams of mirth and bits of conversation surrounded Kate as she looked out across the river, from where she stood in her blue and gray dress. Her eyes scanned the happy faces as she subconsciously reached up for her cap. Halfway there, she dropped her arm sighing.

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