365 Poems in 2018: Week 10

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I started off this week feeling ill; it seems I hadn't quite shaken whatever bug I had last week. In that sense, the week seemed to start off slow and meandered on in much the same way. We also had a nor'easter this past Wednesday. And so, week ten of 2018 was defined by Ibuprofen and ice. Not the greatest, if you ask me, but also not the worst. I got some good poems out of it, so I can't complain all that much.

I hope that you enjoy A Year in Poetry 2018: Week Ten!

SHADOWS | March 5

We are shadows on the wall,
pushed and pulled by thin slivers of light sneaking in through broken blinds
back-bending from those silver beams, those gold rays, slipping between them
to the dark places – the safe spaces -
where we can

BOOKS | March 6

I will stack
books on
books and
build a house
of paper;

I will make
cities out of
and dust jackets,

with streets
paved with
ink – that
we can walk

on sidewalks
lined with
origami benches
where we might
stop and

and I can
show you
all the places
I’ve been,
the people
I’ve met
the things
I’ve seen

and at last
share them
with you

NOR'EASTER | March 7

Frozen fingertips –

from catching snow in
cupped hands,
throwing it back to the sky

to create a storm
all my own.


wine glasses
stained –

time stands still
in low light,
in bar buzz
in the low din
of TV muffled
glass clinked
bottle dropped

lost in
where we were,
where we could be
what yesterday
might have been,

or what tomorrow
still could be.


Can we change
into suns?

Orbit their
radiance –

make a solar system
all our own,

with firefly stars
drawing circles
in the sky.


A clock stuck-

2:00AM; 3:00AM
3:00AM; 2:00AM

in medicated daze
the numbers all
look the same,

00 00 00 00
00 00 00 00

I think I’m missing time

COFFEE POTS | March 11

Spill coffee pots
on all my mornings,

caffeinate these daydreams,

or wake me with
your honey-sweet tea

and send me into hazy afternoons,
and purple-sky evenings.