Poems; February #1

2/9/17

why am I
obligated to find
my
self
why was it
hidden
from me
to
begin

2/18/17

Among hollowing bones
calcifying
Pulling tendons in
foreshortening paths
foreshadowed by the past
I search for a common thread
Made of edible gold

In tenuous suspension
of infinite potential
Realities
I trace constellation lines
between stars
that could be galaxies

I believe
I live
wherever it is
that arteries
become veins
Furthest point from the heart
where blood
finds fulfillment
In transformation
and exchange

I seek existence and action
in the capillaries
outermost branches
Where I may deliver the breath
giving color to flesh

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A Poem a Day 2016: Summary

One year, three-hundred-some-odd poems (I missed a lot of days), and an incalculable amount of inspiration later, I can say my “A Poem a Day” project is a success which has opened up new avenues of creativity and profoundly changed the way I see life, the world, the human experience.

But I’m not done. There are so many more unpublished poems from this past year that I want to share with everyone: and so I will be revisiting and refining this body of work in the coming months. There is so much more poetry and creative writing I’m eager to create and explore: and so I will continue writing, everyday. There are so many more possibilities of matching poetry with photography and other mediums and seeing how they dance: and so I will try to let the artist in me run about unfettered.

Many thanks to all who have read my work, any of it. And special thanks to those who have given me comments – I always appreciate honest reactions and feedback.

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Week 51; A Poem a Day

12/17/16

Everything left
In the light
Will fade
Driftwood will fade
Plastics will fade and break down
Into smaller plastic
Rivers and lakes will fade
Rise & rain
Power lines will fade
The United States of America will fade
Rainbow colored yard signs will fade
Paved streets beginning such a rich black
Gold and white will fade
To gray
Everything in the light
Tends towards gray
Ornaments of cloth
Wax dough
String styrofoam
May fade more slowly
May be preserved
For a few more years
Packed in the attic
In loose fitting boxes
Red algae blooms will fade
Plowed soil overturned earth will fade
Hair feather
Scale shell
Everything fades
Exposed in light
We underestimated the sun
Revered its strength
Praised its benefit
Misunderstood its neutrality
Did our best to profane
Its light
Now everything we have made
Will fade
Though we hold it in the dark
The light will reach it
And it will fade

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Week 50; A Poem a Day

12/11/16

Balance, friend.
Still crucial.
Still vital.
Not a static state.
Balance is the action
Of constant adjustment,
Corrections, counter-weighting.
As the terrain changes,
So must your footfalls.
As the situation changes,
So must your choices.
You will never know
Perfect Balance.
Because Perfect Balance
Is a paradoxymoron.
So seek balance, friend,
In the rapid pulse flexing
Of muscle reflexes.
Seek it in the miraculous
Daily chance offerings;
The chances to give of yourself
And receive the gifts of others.
Seek balance,
But never grasp it.

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Week 49; A Poem a Day

12/4/16

I used to believe
In the power of powers

Then it came to me
As it comes to you
That revolution
Is a game of tiny shifts
Inspired by courageous acts

Most players will never look upon
The victory
They’d most longed for
Which doesn’t seem fair

It’s not a level playing field
It isn’t fair

But we give what we can
To nudge the movement
Another degree
While our heroes
Give what they cannot
And so they steer the course
Of history

We celebrate each small win
Because
The game never ends

You see
We reside on the promised land
But we have yet to fulfill
The promise of life

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Week 48; A Poem a Day

11/30/16

Leave me here
You go follow your emotions

I’ll stay and dwell in my thoughts
There are enough of them
To cover me
A rapidly shifting river
Of fog of doubt
And cumulonimbus of clarity
Leave me here
You go pursue what feels right
I’ll stay and feel sorry for myself
And dream of what would’ve been
If I’d been brash and brazen
If I’d taken, respectfully, carelessly,
The cup that had been offered me
I pass it on as I contemplate
The origins of my thirst

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