Day 139 – Grey Hours

Grey hours love me
like dead flowers
untragic reminders
of function and purpose

They are my estate,
my inevitable sickness
and cure;
they are children I bear

They sit and watch,
attached to ceilings and walls,
they whisper
or sometimes they sing
indecipherable words I
wish I could play;
try to teach me things
I wish I could learn

All I’ve learned
is that these things
do happen

There’s nothing
but to wait

Grey hours love me
like dead flowers
forgotten ’til the
next bouquet


Day 4 – Six Hours

If it takes you
six hours
to start a poem

you don’t want to write
that poem.


write another poem
and let that dog
come back later
if he wants to.