066/100 • NEW YORK
A river of clouds
flows across the horizon —
same view, changing sky.
Not a salad
065/100 • NEW YORK
Salted caramel,
chocolate, pistachio:
gelato for lunch.
Folding laundry
064/100 • NEW YORK
Arms, legs together —
bend in half, and half again,
into careful stacks.
Late night skyline
063/100 • NEW YORK
A velvet drape, pierced
with many small rectangles
to let the light through.
Garbage in, garbage out
062/100 • NEW YORK
Today’s ideas
become our future archives —
choose inputs wisely.
Sweaty Saturday
061/100 • NEW YORK
Sunset is a mercy —
closing the curtain on a
hot and humid day.
Evening walk
060/100 • NEW YORK
From the overpass:
stacked layers of buildings, and
a valley of lights.
Loose ends
059/100 • NEW YORK
Pull a single thread,
and watch it all unravel —
hopelessly tangled.
Manhattanhenge
058/100 • NEW YORK
Sunset strikes a match —
the canyons between buildings
glow with summer fire.
It’s cosmic
057/100 • NEW YORK
Another full moon
brings a chance to shake things up;
don’t try to fight it.
Unwitting rebel
056/100 • NEW YORK
Sentence case letters
and punctuation — they make
haiku purists frown.
Late-night traffic
055/100 • NEW YORK
Honking at midnight:
a cause for alarm elsewhere,
but this is New York.
The studio
054/100 • NEW YORK
Art is work, and yet
it doesn’t feel like labor —
when you do it right.
Repeals
053/100 • NEW YORK
It’s no use fighting
an ancient source of power
like women, like fire.
Inspired by Maeve Higgins’ NYT essay about the women of Ireland.
Leveling up
052/100 • NEW YORK
Micro-miracle:
a single human chooses
to do something good.
Poetic snarl
051/100 • NEW YORK
Underestimate
me at your own risk — don’t say
I didn’t warn you.
Loose change
050/100 • NEW YORK
Poetry machine:
for a quarter and a turn,
a handful of words.
Brave noise
049/100 • NEW YORK
Dare to say something
that matters — whisper, sing, shout;
Leave silence behind.
Sharpening
048/100 • NEW YORK
Get to the point:
sharpen your letters, your words,
and your sentences.
Murray Hill mystery
047/100 • NEW YORK
On a morning walk,
I pass by the wolf door and
wonder what’s inside.