Waking Up

Prompt: Armpit jocularity

There is something in this air

after waking up, the earth yawns

the sun becomes warm again

and a certain a certain smell emanates

from the armpits of the world

as it rolls over and gets out of bed.

March 23

Sticker Shock

Prompt: Sticker shock

Putting a suspiciously succulent fruit into your mouth,

don’t be surprised to find the label still there.

Which farm? What grade?

Spit the paper and adhesive out,

or be more careful next time.

March 22

The Situation

Prompt: The situation

The situation becomes more complicated each time it’s explained:

Calling for the help of others is no use.

Like flies in a spider’s web, our movements are anxious and strained,

desperation only luring victims to the communal noose.

March 21

Demon

Prompt: The Demon in the System


I've heard a demon is not inherently evil,
it's conjured, brought to our world to follow someone's commands.
I've also heard that demons don't exist
but don't tell that to my aunt,
as she spins faster and faster
disappearing in the smoky air,
mouth frothing and frantic,
transforming the air around her to ether,
fingers gently touching

March 20

The Spirit

One last visit,
chance to make it worthwhile
there it goes again,
moving slowly
crouched as an old man in arthritis,
waiting in line for his pay check
from the amusement park.

The spirit feels different from other things:
It doesn't feel the way that I used to.
It doesn't seem to care about what you think.

If it had a face, a body,
it would turn to me and shrug
fading like music
or poetry of the sweetest kind.

March 19

Family Disconnections

Prompt: Belittle the colossus

When Jason arrives, much to his chagrin,

his evil uncle strives to kill the handsome kin.

With one sandal left along the river’s route

the scandal was now on the other foot,

as when uncle was cooked into a stew,

he was disemboweled by his family, too.

It seems those closest to us hurt us most;

they linger on our minds as haunted ghosts.

March 19

General Sherman

Prompt: No compassion

Raking their bodies across the earth,

salting the wounds,

stiff upper lips.

Some believed it necessary,

some were crazy,

some smelled of tobacco dip.

From the massive sequoia tree,

to the sprightliest bug,

stuck in paws of compassionless grip.

March 18

Checkered Reality

Prompt: Checkered Reality

At the end of Junior Year of high school, I tried to paint a single chess piece on a checkerboard on half of a canvas. I had a lot of fun painting the board, but when I showed my teacher the lonely piece, he didn’t understand what I was trying to do. He didn’t understand my checkered reality. At the time I was suspicious that he just couldn’t understand my artistic vision. But then I realized that the best of visions, when poorly presented, are worth little.

Somewhere, the half finished painting is sitting squashed between two other mostly finished paintings. I suppose I could dig it out from beneath a pile of dust, but I would much rather begin it again than continue where I had left off.

March 17

The Happiest Man

Prompt: Funereal birthday party

A television program foretold

the day that he would die.

He no longer celebrates getting old;

He drinks to death the first of each July.

If death is as significant as birth,

why shouldn’t he enjoy the years

until he leaves his body on the earth?

His happiness is somehow more sincere

than those who fret and moan,

“Maybe today is the day.”

His body holds no fearful bones,

has no more hurtful words to say.

March 16

Dew Drops

Prompt: On the cusp of freedom

In the still world

before the true sun is up

dew collects on a petal

until one too many arrive.

Each individual weight couldn’t be more than an insect

but together they slowly drag upon the petal

rotating the axis, changing something

one drop falls, the petal

springs back

closer to freedom until the next one forms

in the still world

March 15

Days and Days Spent the Same Way

Prompt: Farce

mock mock

when the alarm clock

wakes up

and the mask is put on

mock mock

home, way back

there was an old fashioned one

in the kitchen like an old tv

mock mock

and another day lacked

smiling and shaking

hands, where they belong

mock mock

when the day is black

going to sleep

and waiting for the clock

March 14

Reflection

Prompt: Reflection

I turn to be an older me

within the mirror on the door.

I yearn to see my body free

from vanity forever more.

March 13

Thirsty and Searching

Prompt: "I have sailed down mighty rivers." -Shelley

I have followed the trails to once mighty rivers,

seen the ways their currents pulled,

stood upon the banks that they delivered to.

I have walked along side them.

The path quickly turns,

and you can see that I want

my writing to be the clear stream

you discover mid-hike, thirsty and searching,

in your ascent to the summit.

It will be quiet but forceful,

never yielding, always moving:

It is safe to drink from.

March 12

Precipitation

Prompt: Falling from the sky


When the water starts falling from the sky
she opens her mouth to drink.
Crowds around her continue to move
but she does not hesitate to collect as much of the world as possible.
Only so much directly enters her body:
drops collect in her hair, glistening,
soak into her clothes,
the corners of her notebooks curl, excited.
No one could take it all in at once
and she knows this,
raising her body upwards
drinking in the sky.

March 11

Brochure

Prompt: Interdisciplinary bedlam


Broaden that perspective for only
a couple hundred dollars
more!
Be the change
you want to see!
Studying humanities will get you
nowhere but does anyone like
science?
Why not give up?

here is the answer:
UNDER OUR PROGRAM,
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After our courses, nothing matters

March 10

The Young Writer

Prompt: Writing everything down


When he started, he couldn't stop.
He wrote everything down.
Words that people gave him,
interactions from books and movies,
stories of the girl who couldn't keep her pants up,
the neighbor who cheated on his wife and left town.
He wrote down things that disgusted him,
enticed him, made him curious,
he sat in his bed on mornings when he hated himself,
didn't talk to friends at dinner,
read good books so he could steal ideas,
forgot to call his family,
and he wrote everything down.

His fingers, working to hold a pencil,
grew tired or unresponsive.
His eyes, gentle wanderers,
were heavy, pulling his head down toward the earth.
He knew people very well:
What about them was unavoidable,
their undesirable characteristics,
their fatal flaws.
He wrote about them, moved their bodies,
watched them fail time after time
inside the worlds that he mirrored from ours.
He wrote everything down,
scenes emerging and dissipating.
He read the best and wrote the best.
When someone stopped to listen, he spoke.
What sounds escaped his mouth -
of lofty towers and enlightenment.

That was not what he meant.
He bottled their reactions,
thought of Joyce, thought of Salinger, of every high-school tortured soul
who felt their wings, still wet from metamorphosis,
still stunted by the weight of gravity's authority,
dulled from the humidity of society.
He wrote this down.

March 9

Confession

Prompt: Why You Should Not Marry Me


How could I give my life to something
I have loved for so long?
I've seen you in all the right places,
in show windows
television commercials
billboards off Mystic Parkway
all the familiar cafes and rendezvous.
How could it be anything but love?
And if it is, I can't risk losing that
by taking such a big chance
on something so important

March 8

Relative Potential

Prompt: Relative Potential


Relative to you - I suppose I don't have much potential
yet setting the bar lower, we find that
I can do so much more - but not just me
Together there is something to be done,
wonders to be accomplished,
connections to be felt.

Relative to me - We share something,
don't take my word for it. Take my word
to new places, just as I take yours.
We can do so much more.

March 7

Fatherhood

Prompt: Fatherhood


If I could imagine what it's like to hold you:
I want to learn to garden
Do I understand what I must do?
If I knew the hours I must sacrifice,
analyzing and worrying,
giving blind trust,
the cost of food, expense of waste,
I would not do it.
But I do not understand these things.

March 6

The Painting Hanging Out In The Living Room

Prompt: Painting Again


I feel it, I perceive differently
How can a picture that has not changed
still be a reflection of myself?
I still see the same depths and flaws
and it's difficult to conceptualize
but I find a new part of myself every time I return.
Well the only difference is the series
of smudgy finger prints on the glass
evidence for my physical life
while the rest of me lives inside

March 5

Doting

Prompt: Dote


The foolish fingers touched her face:
Spoiled, impulsive, too eager.
Pinched the cheeks,
let the foul perfume linger.
Yet some connection was far deeper
between the two
than would be apparent.
Some gurgling wheels,
like chain smokers perpetually coughing,
continue to perpetuate.
The girl will take her place.

March 4

Short Distance to the Well

Prompt: A friend becomes something less.


We used to drive that short distance to the well
when Papa took the car and went far away.
I walked much further than I ever had felt
to get to the same place,
empty bucket swinging by side,
rubbing against my leg.
That same source, which we drank from until
we noticed it was running out.
Less water every day.
We needed a new well.

March 3

Monkey

Prompt: A Monkey Song


In a distant jungle,
one monkey throws his voice in search of companions.
When none return his call,
he stops.

Another monkey, believing he is also alone,
does not stop when he receives no reply.
His song grows in the widening night,
even as his fur chills,
his eyes water,
he knows someone is listening.

March 2

Silently

Prompt:
"My God is dark and like a clump
of a hundred roots drinking silently."


Silently, I enter the earth.
Each day more deeply,
searching and growing.
Once I am secure, I will return to the surface,
ready for the embrace of a loving world.

March 1