#1122
My best-ever fortune cookie contained a variant
of Feynman’s maxim:
“The work will teach you how to do it.”
<|>
*not yet noon on New Year’s Day,
the new words search begins croakingly,
then stumble upon a philosophical notional,
celebrating messy processes, equating to outcome,
robbing me of my lazy-all-in-NY Day-no-work-ethics
many a-poem writ, more half-baked, on shelf resting,
but the pointillist theoretical, paint by point, insists:
a clean year is a clean canvas deserving, so wade
in the water of frozen creeks silencing gurgles,
catch and release, a natural new work now!
an admonishment most personal, for the
production of poems has dimmed, excuses,
plentiful but it seemed my harshest critic, MM&I,^
never provide an editor’s sign off, these pieces of me,
pass their date of expiration, & will then, my own passing*
***the work teaches how
but never guaranteeing good enough***
1/1/22 4:46PM
^Me, Myself, & I
Jan 4, 2022
Jan 4, 2022 at 12:57 PM UTC
meet me on common ground,
with a feather & tool of shade in hand
while the birds sync in parallel mind.
let the universe whisper
sweet nothings between our skin.
let the brown flesh merge
like water and land.
may our bodies be a field
of poppies as we dream of once again...
Feb 14, 2021
Feb 14, 2021 at 12:28 AM UTC