Day 30
there are stories of stick men
walking out of the river
groaning for a proper smoke
and a nice cup of tea
Day 31
these days are a razed museum
waiting for the water to wash them away
Day 32
this floating world
such a thin skin
what lasts rips through
and bleeds
Day 33
aye, do not dream of spring
do
not
Day 34
the calendar
lost in a current of hours
Day 35
delay delay
the body delays
I am learning
to listen
Day 36
this season
is all rain and phlegm
Category Archives: Days
Days 2025: Winter (27-29)
Day 27
there are balmy days, even when it’s cold outside
pay attention to the behavior of water fowl
and the reflections in the water, the choppy or not waves;
the painter I never was still looks to the colors of winter sunsets
in anticipation of slight color shifts telling me
when real spring is arriving
Day 28
in these hours of flux and whinge
as the sickly dark nursery rhymes
sing and the moon goes down for a nap
we scan the horizon for evidence
of a lengthening day — only to find
we’ve not yet reached Ground Hog’s Day
and we’re looking for the Ascension
Day 29
an old man drinking decaf in the morning
dreaming of mountains
of silence: scraping minutes
out of rusty watches
Days 2025: Winter (23-26)
Day 23
suppose these days are icicles:
someday we will melt we will evaporate
into a river of apocalypses, singing songs
from some lost decade or another.
let us pretend, if only for this moment
this dream is a flood 41 days long
and on the other side, there is a distant shoreline
resplendent with possibility.
Day 24
yesterday’s thin ice patches that floated on the river
have vanished today. practice then
the transubstantiative life of water
finding new breath in a flurry of forms
responding to the air
as to a lover’s hands on the skin
Day 25
then: these quiet moments, given short shrift on calendars
with the dogs, that ungrateful cat, and you
that make up all of my eternities
Day 26
morning on the wharf — a quiet mass
in a sanctuary of steel and wood, surrounded
by grey and black remainders of the last snow
the air just warm enough to lie
that we are not still far from the summer sun