November 6, 2016

We pretend it is okay;
That every year is not hotter
Than the last, and that everyone
Within our borders has enough

To eat if they are willing
To work for it. Inside
The meta-cortex grey matter
Of our brains, however,

Everyone knows this is false.
We rant around a backyard
Fire, burning brush and bridges;
Wondering what Tuesday

Will mount - a hill to climb
Or a cavern to descend.

This is Poem #195 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.