night of the wolves

invisible, but for the gentle lapping of waves

intent, a music faint and heavy in the wind 

a restlessness in the sharp green leaves

a sleepless darting and jumping hurdles

sweat forming a human shaped indent

nothing so obvious as howling

splashed with water and a light, some loud comforting food

prowling, until the darkness hardens, incites a wind

knocks reproachful at the window panes

till an uneasy truce is laid to rest

away from doors, sprawled on cool marble  

close to dawn, when the sweet smell of earth

rises with savage coconut trees

around dense clouds, and the occasional sky

flashing, breaking, sleep away from sheets

thankful, smiles, parched for the sound of water

and in the silence between night and day, 

snow falls

fire drill

all this paralysis
from computational theory
I never studied
but practice without
a license
inside closed walls
a short fat witch
cackling over my laptop
more clothes than I can wear
ghosts of books that flutter past
heavy and light
monuments and friezes
the games and sites
lighter, but just as permanent
as a coldly blinking router
watching as I galvanize
with no tearful goodbyes
for its wavering devotion
return in vague disappointment
to see everyones still here
and everythings still still