Day 112 – We Can Read

Our playthings aren’t much
to play with;
instead our room’s filled
with books

but we can read
and that’s all we need

we don’t have what money can buy
but we can fly


Day 84 – Where the Cattails Grow

Where will you be tomorrow
if the feeling finds you out,
discovers you’ve been on the run
for too long?

Will you be running back
to where the cattails grow,
to the falling snow,
to your quietest moments
wrapped up and
thrown into the sea?

Will you give my best
when you get there,
to the places I can’t go;

will you be there tomorrow
where the cattails grow?

Day 42 – Poet’s Paradise

on the road to Poet’s Paradise
are seeds watered and seeds destroyed,
a disheveled garden the resulting price
for walking in circles, underemployed

for the road to Poet’s Paradise
is a metaphor, nothing more-
a method of madness to excise
our inward demons waging war

on sanity; a garden is a lovely way
to depict a thing far less fixed-
a turmoil we suffer to suitably convey
“my emotions on this subject are mixed.”

Year 2: Day 136 – The Monster

He and I gave birth to a monster,
a fire-breathing beast that we named when we were young,
a fruit which at once has poisoned and has healed.

I have tried to tame it
and I have tried to kill it;
I have prayed that it would be sated
to hibernate and leave me be
but it will not heed my efforts-
it remains.

Yet I have grown a hundred ways
trying to resist it,
it has added strength each time it knocked me down,
and would my heart have any grain at all
had it not been opened
and clawed apart
and sewn back up?

We made a monster
and I deserve its lashes.
I’ve no other way to live and be at peace.
If a monster we conceived was made immortal
then perhaps the monster made was meant to live.