20201210.0430

The voices ring across the concrete slabs
Laughing together, which would be good
Save for the words of hate
Harsh discordant brass against sweet reeds
And I wonder if I ought to be their drummer

20201209.0430

I took the day
I often do
But I could not
Go with you
And so I did not
Carry through
Again, and so
Again I rue
The day I took
And away threw

20201208.0430

There is no pill that Morpheus provides
To take me into better rest or
To let me wake fully
I lumber thus
Far from abed
With eyes sagging shut that
Never fully opened

20201207.0430

The hinges creak
No oil to ease them
And no way to replace them
Matching the old hardware costing
More than a wallet will hold

20201206.0430

Once again
They take away the new bouquets
Each time a new arrangement of bright young blooms
But I only need the one blossom
Growing more vibrant as the days pass
Roots still deepening and no dead leaves yet choking the stem

20201205.0430

The floor needs sweeping every day
To clear the dust and dirt away;
The hand must ever push the broom,
Though weary, if ever the room
Will be found fit to dwell therein.
In this, my sweeping, I begin.

20201204.0430

The wind may stir the waves
But the sea remains in place
Letting the disturbances pass
Soon forgotten
I
However
Am landlocked

20201203.0430

Being taffy might be nice
Pulled but on one hook
Put back again after
And if cut into pieces
Welcome in each
For its sweetness

20201202.0430

I have attempted to water it
Sought to feed it
And, yes, fertilized it, too
But its roots never did go deep enough
Even if its green offshoot is growing well
And its own green is sickly enough
The color of a monster's eyes

20201201.0430

Sounding like a sailors' chorus
But neither agreement nor acknowledgement
Instead a self-assertion
Markedly different if sounding the same
And sounding depths the others don't
Perhaps no return from thence should be