If it's late in the day, it still counts a today's poem. Just because I'm not early to bed, early to rise, I don't want to hear any belly aching.
Here's my poem:
CHALK
Air whistling through skylight.
Today is nominal, restaurants remain
closed. I painted the sign to represent
the direction your car should go. My taxes
represent a year of holes filled with sand,
beaches dug up and replaced with cheaper
beaches. My house lives there on the coast,
not the one I own but the one that should
be mine. I read a book about someone doing well.
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2 comments:
i like this one
I like this one too--the last line is muted, but resonant.
And you'll notice I post all my drafts at "11:59 PM" on the day. Damn straight, late counts. = )
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