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September 11, 2016

Everything crashed down that morning.
It is difficult to believe
Those are real humans
Tumbling from those towers

And not just little plastic
Dolls on our TVs. We watched
It all fold in on itself
On screens blaring the tragedy.

Cameron wondered why
The Power Rangers were no where
to be found when he got home
From second grade and reading

Harry Potter. Not knowing
Nothing would ever be
As it was before; we
Could only hold each other

In the shadow of flightless
Skies and changing lives,
And click to HGTV, the only channel
Not streaming the demolition.

This is Poem #164 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. 

July 25, 2016

They do not often use styrofoam 
Anymore, so they put
A cardboard ring around
To save your fingers from 
The scalding. 

       Do you take it black?
       A little sugar? One
       Lump or two?

Stopping at Starbucks
Equals normalcy -
Getting it back -
After planes hit
Towers or boys
Shoot up elementary 
Schools. The day you

Ask the barista, "Please, please,
please, let me get
What I want
This time. "


This is Poem #129 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.

June 29, 2016

Panic! At The Disco has 

A whole new rhythm now –

 

When alarm at such venues

Is warranted. Security

 

Tighter than your leather  

Pants, Brendon, or at Logan

 

Confetti guns and fake

Smoke, once harmless-

 

Seeming, really, now stir,

Even just a little, our

 

Own anxiety – is real.

 

Would you have chosen

This name after Pulse

 

And after Paris? You

Grumble when asked

 

The origins of your name,

But all know great care

Goes into the selection. 

 

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This is Poem #107 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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