Notes of the Day XI-XV [Poetry]

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XI. The little boy in the shark fin hat Stalks through the shelves at the library Hunting for stories instead of minnows And gulping down trivia whole. XII. Tamara cries when you bring her a brownie, A corner piece, just like she likes them, Because she thought nobody ever noticed. XIII. The old man at the copy machine Bellows and curses the staff as incompetent. He just doesn’t want to say He’s alone in world that’s no longer his own. XIV. People are scared of beauty Because it means God is real. So they ignore the flute player in the more »

Notes of the Day VI-X [Poetry]

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VI. What do we do with an entire life? What a vast ocean of time In which to do nothing. And what a glorious revelation To know that nothing is at the core Of all our ambitions. VII. The voice of God Is in the creaking wicker Of a porch swing swaying in the wind With no one sitting on it. Is there anything more inviting? Is there anything more lonely? VIII. The raindrops play on my window pane And gossip about the old days. One was a river, another the sea, And one once played as a tear. IX. more »

Notes of the Day I-V [poetry]

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[Notes of the Day are short poems or a few poetic lines, kept together in a single ongoing poetry document.] I. The most real things are the most unseen, they swirl and eddy in little small laughs, for anyone who has seen leaves swirl in a courtyard will never say the wind is not real. II. The leaves are green again. Funny how, in winter, one forgets what the color green looks like, and in the summer, the skeletal silhouettes of nude branches are nothing but fading dreams. III. Day by day, the sunflower sprouts, and turns toward the sun more »