Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Day Ten

It became a game
to walk out at any random hour,
and end up across the dirty river
facing the rumps of office towers and facades.

Stringy, blue threads plucked from fish,
ditched on the pavement by
predators intent on a quick meal
but disturbed by unsuspecting intruders.
My dead black boots urging against the
suck and pucker of the foul mud. 

(one of my own)

Day Twelve

Suspicion is 
the bane of friendship;
is the signature 
of incompetence;
a heavy armour,
the new religion.

(write a replacement poem using sentences in Google search)

Day Nine

There is something 
about you. stupid, 
unfinished sympathy 
on a green day 
holiday mambo.

(poem from titles in a random playlist)

Day Eight

Everybody is getting divorced.
Disconnected, parcelling out all of
their junk in common, and sorting
custody of the dog; that’s easy, it goes to the her.

Everything sliced through the middle,
already imagined in slow ruminations and
mental notes throughout the previous year.
Let’s just get through Christmas, and the New Year,
and make a clean break of it before tax time.

Friends marshall all the hind-sights they can muster and say,
well I saw this coming when she lost the weight,
and I knew he was up to something with that new car,
but you can guarantee none of them saw anything
as they hunker over plates and wonder if they’re next.

(re-write a famous poem. It's not a rewrite but it does riff on Ferlinghetti's People Getting Divorced)

Day Six

Brick building 
snow and cars,
trees and window glass.
Ice footprints, mud.
Train tracks and noise.

(look out your window and write a list of nouns)

Monday, April 7, 2014

Day Seven

Soft glow
over your smooth,
flat face into
full brightness.
You unlock and
divulge all of my being.
The world is in you.

(write a love poem to an inanimate object: iPhone)