Zack Moy

poet programmer

Calling out from the mighty Pacific at 52-hertz
is a whale. The loneliest, they say.

Read more…

Sunlight is often too shy a friend.
I only bump into her when I’m about to run
inside a brick building, late for a meeting.
Maybe she’s just avoiding me.

Read more…

Cast away your memories,
Push them deep below the sea.
Towards the surface floats debris,
Through a conduit and strait,
After shoring, reminisces. Does the sea forget? Merely does it tease?
Nothing reaches the abysses, For what sinks will wait,
Only rising once more...

The rain drops and departs from its brethren & dives without hesitation: it knows
The end of its plummet is the same as the beginning is the same as all the emblems
Of every season in each of these moments lived and relived, reticent and accepting.

These men are all smiles. They fashion thrift-store hats
on their bald heads and long scarves around their necks,

Read more…

I can’t trust the spring
of love from a flower shop that sells
such beautiful blooms of affection,
fated only to wilt in half-full vases.

Read more…

I walk onto the dance floor and it begins.
The DJ spins and starts the heart of night life.
As fast as the music’s going
my world’s growing faster and colder
I just wish it would slow down enough to stop sound
but before I...

Read more…