Automaton (1999)

This is the sort of doggerel that results from a cold evening curled up in a comfy throw, with a cup of tea and an artificial intelligence textbook.

The very best and brightest minds
    With care they study our behavior
Searching out each taste and whim
    Eager, plotting every flavor

Uncovering what makes us tick
    The minute gears that rub and grind
Inching ever closer to
    Idealized, artificial minds

Intelligent, to serve our needs
    Mass-produced, because we can
Machine, now soul, created by
    The hand of soulless man

Sunday Night Bedtime (1998)

This is something that I wrote about my boys back in 1998, when John was two years old and Matthew was one. It's hard to believe they were ever that little.

I hear the sound of gentle snoring
    From the bedroom down the hall
And see the shapes of little fingers
    Casting shadows on the wall

Blankets cover little bodies
    Warm and sleeping in their beds
Preparing for adventures known
    To little dreams in little heads