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December 10, 2016

Those of us with memories
Are horrified. We know the old adage;
Those who don't, repeat.

Pride is not a trait desired.
Hang it up with arrogance,
But both are claiming they'll

Run things soon. Hide.
What sort of leader wants
To take away a child's

Only hot meal of the day?

This is Poem #216 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.

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. 

Digging for Sanity Post 9/11

 

Pre-Bush, in the days

of Clinton, when

the economy was good

and terrorism

 

was still

something that happened

somewhere else, government

cheese was plenty

 

and given

generously by those

who could to those

who needed.

 

Then –  the toxic epidemic

of mediated selfishness

pushed back the man-made

construct of hope

for us all. The real

 

promise of America:

safety nets and ladders

in all states.

 

 

This is Poem #14 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.

 

I appreciate your feedback as these poems are not “finished” yet, and I intend to go back into many of them in the future.

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