Nat'l Poetry Month Day 4: Sides

Oh! There
you are
Or have been
Whole time
Hold
Time
Now
Holding time
Time and space
Run down
Run for us
Charging straight for us
Charging
Charge! Oh
Where did we go?
Surfaces
Service us
Preclude our landing
More
Fanning
More
Standing?
No more than standing
No
More than standing
Standing to push pedals
Peddling
Pedaling
Pushing petals
Pushing standing
On corners Oh!
Little coroners
Steal your watch

Deep in puddles
As you
Sleep in puddles
Keep
Keep me
In your rubble
Still

Nat'l Poetry Month Day 3: Compressed Air

My air has been
flavored
I've never even
been
In possession of
air
before
So I'm not sure how I know this
And how do
I know
It is you

In order to carry my
Air harpoon
My arms were always full out to
here
Air was the one thing I
Knew I could never
Lose I could never
Use I could never
Choose when I received it
You
What was that?AnywaywhatwasIsaying
Concealed air harpoon -
Spent it all on that -
Then lived in the sea -
Then drowned all my guests -
Then I chased bubbles
Until I ran
Out of
Air.

When I heard your
name
My hidden air
harpoon
Went off in my
Pants
Before
I even tried to use it
That is how
I know
It is you

Nat'l Poetry Month Day 2: Happiness in One Hell of a Semi-Qualitative Enumeration

Happiness in One Hell of a Semi-Qualitative Enumeration*

Forward progress
Always walking backwards
Hide your selfless
Like kale chips from party guests
See your tight-wound dream self?
It's hanging from your dream shelf

Think less, be more
Be your own vacation
Glance left, peer right,
Outsource your frustration
Ventilate your pain
In a beneficial way
Like regulations published for your health
Don't pollute
What you can not have your self

Unwind, rewind
Counting your mornings with chalk
Yoga, Spinning
Wade ten years of TED Talks
The vending machine found
In your destination town
Accepts you only in a certain range
Accepts acceptance in
Only exact change


*Inspired by this and this.  It reads well in the rhythm of the verse and bridge of "The Music of the Night" from Phantom of the Opera**.  You can read it with or without the absurdly melodramatic growl-whisper used in this production, which was far more effectively employed by Jack Skellington in "Nightmare Before Xmas" and Your Uncle in "That Time You Were Groped Behind the Shed on Memorial Day".

**I'll probably never get to kick Andrew Lloyd Weber in the nuts, but I think this is a small step in the right direction.

National Poetry Writing Month, Day 1: Moving Everyday

I am
depositing everything
I am
into a hole
Why?
To watch it pile up?
Then descend it like stairs
To explore?
And, surely, just as
(My latest offering)
I lean in to look
(wraps around)
I learn
(my ankle)
it has no bottom so I
Fell

Being whole
As a hole
I suddenly am empty

Not stomach emptiness, though
I've once tried
Crafting it
Like the perfect dish
Ingredients
Measurements, timed
Heat
Though, eventually, 
even I must
Eat

Not sports zen emptiness, though
It was something elusive and
Magical when I was young, like
Skipping stones
Except as soon as you think about
Water deflection
It dies and sinks, so
I stop watching before it sinks
And throw another

Not even self emptiness
Just emptiness of these things, being
Drunk on years,
I carry

And every day
You and I discover more
To donate to the hole
In exchange for a little emptiness
Until it leaves behind something
So light it can't be tossed
So large it can't be lost
Leaving only what
We are