Musings on the power of the cursor.
After reading “My Family’s Slave,” Alex Tizon’s story in the Atlantic, my mind has been a cauldron.
An end-of-summer visit to the Neon Boneyard in Las Vegas, in haiku and photographs.
Entered that world once again,
and there he is, my dear friend gone.
I send a friend request, despite —
Just need a moment to pretend.
On Google Street View
We trace a map to our dreams
Along country roads
Sifting through my digital detritus
some rare moments of light
of the weight
I wish to escape
Such different life paths
From each other, and from mine
Yet New York City is like glue
Where these intersections materialize
I have nearly 50 drafts in my blog’s dashboard — waiting, forgotten, abandoned.