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Here are collected many of my poems, which are typically about my friends. I have no particular talent other than a love of jokes, rhyme, and wordplay, but it’d be a shame if we left all the poetry to real poets.

Poems for Friendship Villagers

Half a dozen friends of mine live in a group house called Friendship Village. The first time I hung out with them as a group, I wrote a Chinese poem for them all to express my gratitude at meeting such lovely new friends (I’ll add that poem at some point).

About a year later, after a joyous night of homemade pizza at Friendship Village, I decided to write poems for each of them. A week later my project was complete. I hand-wrote the poems on cards, and delivered them at Ian’s going-away party on 2019-06-13.


Sneaking round the house at night
The prankster man comes giggling
Laughing to himself with all
Ten fingers splayed and wiggling

Reaching into every cranny
(Not a man for strictures)
You won't see him come or go
But you will find his pictures


Guaranteed to brighten up my day-J
Hugs me when I go off on my way-J
Emits every color except gray-J
Friendship Village saint? I vote for AJ


To me you come off as the coolest housemate
Can it be true that you're the illest villager?
Skate on home, then rouse up that guitar rumpus
"Cool" is too weak: from now on you're a chillager


Wholesome winter scenes on
Christmas cards.
How? How does
Someone come to wield such
Skill at arts?
Long, hard work
And a smile for all the
No other
Way to learn to paint such
Winter sights.


A cottage on a hill
A flower patch
A tree of fruit
A mound of herbs
A bunch of beans
A pile of plerp
A bag of blegg
A tin of twomp
A sack of snoob
And a sign out front, big-lettered:


I tried and tried, but couldn’t come up with a poem for Fedora. Instead, I made for her a bite-size videogame called Fedoradventure, which you can play online.

A Gift for Gadi

While traveling with a group, our guide was an amicable man named Gadi. When the group played Secret Santa and I received his name as my beneficiary, I decided to write him a poem.

Please excuse any awkwardness in the pseudo-literary Chinese. The gift was completed in a hurry, for a non-Chinese-speaking audience, so I judged rhyming more important than phrase construction.

Gift for Gadi, Original

Gadi Gadi Gadi


Gift for Gadi, Rough English Translation

Gadi Gadi Gadi
Captain of our team.
His style is way fresh,
This Chiller Supreme.

Of eminent talents
And big-bearded too,
He teaches all people
His everyday cool.

Poems for Hayley

Hayley, AKA “Blue” or “Bloo,” was my roommate (or “shmoom-mate”) from September 2018 to September 2019. I started composing poems shortly before I moved in with her, and soon found that life in close quarters provided many poetic inspirations.

My favorite of all are “The Goodbye Poem” and “Hayley and her boy toy”, so I’ve placed those first.

  1. The Goodbye Poem

    I was delighted that you called me mellow
    I'm certain that you count as mellow too
    I testify to you that this Max fellow
    Will just as certainly be missing Bloo
    Our shmoomery is done but not forgotten
    When thinking of me please don't hang your head
    We shan't forget each other 'til we're rotten
    No need to eulogize before we're dead
    If by some chance to SoCal comes a Hayley
    In Snoop's hometown you know you have a pal
    Transmitting good cheer to you on the daily
    What's left to say? You rule! Go get 'em, gal!
  2. Hayley and her boy toy
    In the night they giggle
    Fingers go exploring
    Interlocked they wiggle
    Fingertip on her hip
    Tracing out a squiggle
    This is love, no doubting
    Not even a niggle
    The sky is bloo
    The sun in sky
    The lazy wind
    It pet my eye
    The bird go zoom
    As it soar by
    Today life good
    No need for cry
  4. Her name is Bloo
    She is my shmoom
    She like hermit
    In her bedroom
    I make chore noise
    She start to ree
    But catch herself
    And then thank me 💕
  5. The shmoom bring boy
    The boy make nice
    She kiss him once
    He kiss her twice
    The feel of ex
    Arise in brain
    "Why do I make
    Myself feel pain?"
  6. With Morgan to
    The mall go she
    On hunt for duds is my shmoomie
    I caught my bus
    Now catch this luck
    I hope your quest has zero suck
  7. Nasty cold is sure to flee
    From the vitamin named C
    Nine-nine-nine plus one mg
    Thank you, shmoomie named Hayley

Ryan Quest Win Poem

Those who win at Ryan Quest get to see a special poem! What are you waiting for?

Two Thirds of a Sonnet for Chase

Written just before 23h00 on 2019-10-13, in response to something nice that new friend Chase said to me. This is “two thirds” of a sonnet because a real sonnet needs a third ABAB verse.

Has it occurred to you that you deserve
To be called not just chill, but chill supreme?
I have a softness in my heart for those
Who follow through - who realize the dream

Of living in a world where effort's fruits
Are by most sincere comments justly met
Much thanks, for 'tis upon my horn you toot
Exchanging digits was a winning bet

A sonnet, or two thirds of one, for thee
With gratitude from You-Know-Who and me

Poem for Cameron and Felix

Written late at night on 2019-10-11, after getting to know these two fellows at a meetup. If you join the second and third lines in each stanza, the meter becomes iambic quadrameter (save for the line beginning “Knowledge”, which is hard to read as an iamb.)

Tonight I've met a pair of men
Whom I hope I may
Call new friends

Two buds, pointed at PhDs
Knowledge sets both their
Means and ends

Two dudes, united by one car
Stick-shift - they're off! in
Homeward flight

Let's meet again, cognition crew
To pass another
Pleasant night

After The Farewell Lunch

Shortly before moving away from Portland, I got the chance to have a farewell lunch with Professor Hyong Rhew, one of just three or four people whom I call “my most beloved teachers.” Also present was my long-time friend Chris Stasse, whom I similarly call one of “my most beloved friends.”

This poem commemorates the mischievious post-prandial activities of that day, 2019-08-20. I believe this is the first poem I’ve written for Chris; it probably won’t be the last.


Island Vacation Poem

With step-fam'ly
And Sis and Dad
A week on an
Island was had

From the main house
By gravel road
Ten seconds' walk
Reached my abode

This hermitage
Was now to be
For one week my

I dreamt I would
Accomplish much
While living in
This monkish hutch

By day there'd be
And on each night
A writing spree

But I fell ill
Just one day in
I could not hike
Nor could I swim

Though I was sick
I could still write
I dripped out words
Most every night

Healthy at last
My poetry
Will fix this week
In memory