April 7, 2016

 

No matter what

I’ll end up short.

Not enough love

Emitted I’m told

 

A mom can never

Find the balance.

I’m too much

Or too little

Everyday.

 

This is Poem #55 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

 

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April 5, 2016

 

A child is born blank

And sponge-like;

Accepts both the toxic

And pure water offered.

 

Thirst is satiated

By the unlikeliest

Of sources – a man,

Sleeping, ragged on the street,

 

A mother’s grimace,

Dad’s failure to be home

For dinner on time. Ever

 

The absorbed information

Rippling and the television’s

Static above all.

 

This is Poem #54 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

 

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map below, and write from there.

 

Crypto Map 1

The back page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

April 3, 2016

 

We wait and do not wait

For our children to live

Their own lives. Avoid

 

Feeling abandoned. He

Lived so close, but now

Has another mother

To replace me and my

Guilt. And she says

 

“I cannot wait

To move out. This

Is why.”  Once,

 

I was pregnant and scared.

I imagined someday,

 

This being inside of my body

Will want to travel

Far away from it. I

 

Did not believe today

Would come and now

It has;  I grieve

For what I never

Wanted and then lost.

 

This is Poem #53 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

bigfoot

Mark an X where

You have seen the unbelievable.

Who will be convinced

Your mythic animal is real?

 

I once saw a panther

slink across a New Hampshire

Highway, but Fish & Game

Say I never did.

 

Big Foot hides in the brush

Of the Maine Coast.

He watches us swim,

Fly kites, swat flies.

 

Donning his Bermuda shorts

And sunhat, carrying

An extra-large beach towel,

 

He hides in the shadows

In the safest parts of

The map, watching

From his hermit

Existence on

The largest coastal shore.

 

This is Poem #52 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

 

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map below, and write from there.

 

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

 

 

 

fileWRK2RVIP

Sometimes the pinning down,

Theory proven, evidence

Collected hypothesis –

 

Now truth –

Destroys something

Mythical. Like

Love. When I learned

 

That it was simply

A chemical surge

To my brain –

 

Not the intense

Interference by

The gods –

 

That made me wait

By the phone, troll

Your hotel room,

Open myself to you –

 

Runs in my stockings,

Panties on your

Bathroom floor,

No thoughts of a condom

 

I lost something

Else. We all did.

 

Do not prove what

Does not need

Verification. Leave

Some magic

As just that.

 

This is Poem #51 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map below, and write from there.

 

 

 

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Keep silent. Do not

Draw attention.

We are on this earth

These short years –

 

Cycles of birth,

Peek, decay.

The flowers will

Wilt around you

And so will all

You have loved.

 

Double-doors replaced

With ugly fuel efficient

Models. The Tilton 500

Torn up and into

A chain hotel. Even

The drive-in will go –

Unable to afford the digital

Revolution. So we

 

Pay our tickets, and spin

On this ride, year

after year,

after year.

We pedal, and merry-go-round.

 

Eventually, jumping

Or pushed. The dirge

Plays on. Dance slowly.

But, dance.

 

This is Poem #50 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

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The news would have you

Believe that shark attacks

Are devastating

The human race –

 

Shredding our limbs,

Bloodying the ocean waters

With their appetites

And pointy teeth, but

 

Statistical data

Proves otherwise.

The number two

Animal killer of

Humans is humans.

 

The savagery of a large dog,

The venomous bite of a snake,

Are threats, I suppose, but

 

Nothing compared

To the angry young

Man with a semi

 

Automatic rifle

And a great white

Ego to sooth.

 

This is Poem #49 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

bigfoot_20lodge_20sign.0

So, Big Foot walks

Up to you in a bar –

Says, “First, I’m real.”

 

You sip your beer,

Trying to be nonchalant,

Keeping your amazement

Under wraps. “Second,”

 

He says, “Climate

Change is real. Just

Ask my cousin, the Yeti.”

 

You imagine the melting

Ice cave – the slop

on the kitchen floor –

 

The rising sea

Levels drowning

Miami, Hawaii,

 

Odiorne State Park.

Big Foot, it seems,

Was here the whole

time and laughing.

 

But, no more. “What

Do you choose to believe

In and who

informs your choice?”

 

This is Poem #48 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map above, and write from there.

 

 

Procrastination harms. It

Eats away at you

The whole time you are not

Doing. The novel draft

 

waiting in a locked drawer –

thick and in need of revision –

The appointment

Calls to make – schedule

the doctor, the dentist,

the student loan payment. (I do not like

 

to use the phone, she said.)

Of course, I know

The doing is easier

Than the not.  Guilt

Eats you

Like a sandwich.

 

But I cannot open

The wounds to bleed.

 

This is Poem #47 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state. Some should’ve most likely never left the book, but here they are.

Real-Dino

The dinosaur bones

Are fake, they say. Nothing

Lived before the timer

Started at 6,000 years

 

Ago. If a Pterodactyl 

Shows up in 1860

Wearing a navy or grey cap,

 

What madness sparks?

The world is divided –

The Civil War – oxymoron

To end all oxymorons –

Has never ended, really.

 

Nothing was solved

by the the deaths of thousands

On fields where

Reenactments are played.

How close are we to a

Half-revolt again?

 

North rebels against

South. Makes a flag

Of tolerance and acceptance,

To convey disdain

At the Confederacy.

 

What colors convey peaceful

War to bring unity? What

Ancient beast needs

to fly above – giant

Wings flapping

And blocking

Out the sun?

 

This is Poem #46 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

 

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map below, and write from there.

Crypto Map 1

The back page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

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