First thing on waking –
note deterioration of eyesight.
Blurry vision – good!
Might be day for soft focus poem.
But forces contemplation of death.
Bummed out, but could be good too.
Mistakenly pick up dirty sock
instead of clean.
Sniff to confirm.
Lock in theme of disgust.
Race midget from ferry to bus.
Cardio for the day – done!
Work interfering horribly with poetry.
Sit in SBUX and scratch out ideas.
The muse found standing in line –
she’s beautiful, luminous,
but sexually frustrated. No, no. Delete.
Evening walk with dog by the river,
scanning the rocks for washed up body parts.
Light on the water, the city,
she’s beautiful, luminous.
Try to channel Wordsworth.
Wordsworth didn’t have to pick up dog poop
in little plastic bags.
Running out of time
to post April Poem-A-Day!
watch insects fighting on YouTube.
Read Wikipedia about
Crimean War, again.
Mother Superior turns out the lights
in the living room
and goes to bed.
Sit in the dark,
Bitter my lament.