Dear Saturday, I seem to be unusually nitpicky this morning. Love, Kevin (31 October 2020)
Tag: October 2020
Dear Friday…
Dear Friday, Sorry—I got distracted. We still have the evening, though. Love, Kevin (30 October 2020)
Week 4/Day 5. 17 words (a poem)
This is my fifth poem of week four of the online retreat. The New York Times crossword puzzle lives to humiliate me It starts me out easy on Monday morning lulling me into a sense of complacency by Friday, I can barely get a word in cross-wise My seven-week stretch of successful Mondays curries no [...]
Week 4/Day 4. The Rotten (a poem)
This is my fourth poem of week four of the online retreat. Anymore, the subject believes his own press and assumes his once radical stance justifies the new orthodoxy The rotted past meets the rotting present the rotten join hands and breathe deep Plastic cups litter the grounds a puddle of purple forms beneath the [...]
Dear Thursday…
Dear Thursday, You’re trying to fool me. You can’t fool me. Love, Kevin (29 October 2020)
Dear Wednesday…
Dear Wednesday, I’m going to need to do some tidying, I see. Love, Kevin (28 October 2020)
Week 4/Day 3. Dynasties (a poem)
This is my third poem of week four of the online retreat. 1 Trumpet breasted kings tear flesh Purple mouth beaks taste eye fruit rich dark scarlet. orange coronal. potent. The year, solitary, disconsolate down to the garden well peeling death drips great red burrows 2 A mother kneeling Dark, golden scents open, green grasses [...]
Week 4/Day 2. Room (a poem)
The second poem of the fourth week of the online retreat. This is my room now— my furniture my art on the walls my TV in the corner my rugs on the floor Some reminders remain— the old dining room table the clock on the wall the lamps by the window the world’s ugliest shag [...]
Dear Tuesday…
Dear Tuesday, Who’s going to fall asleep first, me or my computer? Love, Kevin (27 October 2020)
Week 4/Day 1. Rhomboid (a poem)
The first poem of the fourth week of the online retreat. It’s always one side— or the other The pull the twist the twinge the strain the sprain the spasm the sharp prick of the universe’s voodoo doll A blade held immobile without provocation or recompense All I did was inhale (26 October 2020) Wishes [...]