Eyes closed, in bed I lie,
I see my screen, I scroll
down and down,
the day’s remains passing,
the searching, tender touches,
nigh the morning light—
till I feel her breathe,
like waves of solace,
an oasis of burgundy blankets,
her warming arms
in coldest night.
Autumn, you golden bed—
The wind and rustling
leaves keep humming,
like a choir outside.
October 31, 2026
Let us feed the harvest to the fire, glowing embers from the black coals of night— The crops are gathered, the forest colored fallow, bright from the burning, dry leaves lie scattered, still on the ground— The crop machines parked now and cleaned, farm animals at peace, the dinner table
The moon, the early hours, breaking through swift-moving clouds, the north like day is calling us, as autumn chill presses the brow. Sixty years pass, beat down like raindrops, fill a bucket that's never full. Still we rise each new morning, laugh and cry, wrapped warm in
In a dimly lit restaurant nestled in the cobbled alleys of Zürich’s Niederdorf, ten of the world’s most eminent (and eccentrically over-dressed) mathematicians gathered around a table buckling under the weight of antipasti and wild gesticulation. Archimedes, having insisted on entering the premises wrapped only in a
Dare I dream of roses, a night sky passing proud, Orion and all his friends standing, in heaven’s dark blue, not loud— Like children we remember, the home from where we were, the rocket then we boarded— steel forged and smoothed our nerve. The first kiss, the awkward bumble,