Tag Archives: Poetry

Fern

There is a fern perched on the windowsill in a white pot,
next to a bowl of pennies and it looks as calm as I’d like to feel next to an ATM.

*

My idealistic young friends have grown up and away.
There’s a song we used to play while driving upstate
We’d say “I never want to not be here.”

The June that we were seventeen, my friend confessed to me
“He gave me money for plan B, I don’t need it,”
She treated us to pancakes the morning after instead.
We laughed and swore never to do this again.

She does not feel she deserves her BFA.
“Bachelor of NOTHING, BA in BOYS IN MY BED,
My mom works her ass off so I can be wasted in this cab.”

Is this moment romance? Candle lit with guilt?
We used to just date whoever worked at the pizza shop.

*

I ran the red light in front of
Asbury Park High School and the policeman
didn’t really mind. Driving and writing a poem on
my iPhone beside New Jersey Transit’s North Jersey coast line.
That was today.

Today was lucky, catatonic, surrounded by
Carefully selected props and noises to embellish
The feeling I’m reaching for and missing.

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It should come with a map

It should come with a map
at birth, alongside
the certificate that records
breath and name.
The map would be
baby’s first fine art,
and outline the
aesthetic and precision
of chance.
It would warn
of dead-ends. Left turns
feel safer.
It would hang above a basinet,
someday rest in a dorm room drawer.

The gift of this map
would set free
the tumultuous years
the mapless ones
spend learning cartography
for themselves.

The map, be it on
tapestry or scroll,
would shake us free,
so our fibers can collect
more useful lessons.

While learning cartography
My greatest fear has become traveling in circles.

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Haiku for A Lazy Day

Waiting until two
P.M. to brush ones teeth is
post-grad-limbo-life.

Dinner shifts prove to
Fill my wallet but not my
soul. I get tired.

Perhaps if I got
dressed, more could be accomplished.
But, relaxation.

It’s not as if I
don’t have work tonight, I do.
It starts at 4:30.

Showers are for the
hour just before I must
be somewhere pressing.

Lunch today was cool-
Salad with avocado.
Good tastes all around.

(response haiku from my friend Pip…
Okay now I want
avocado too. Thanks Kate
My fridge is empty.)

At first, humans seem
so permanent. All that stays
is what we create.

(response haiku from my friend Pip after discussing how ridiculous haiku can be…
Haiku are silly
But we need them. In the end,
all is vanity.)

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