Category: Poem-A-Day 2013

my once-a-day

getting out of her car on Magnolia Street
sitting on the new/old sofa at Mama Mocha’s
walking past me with friends in Starbucks
at the table next to mine in Amsterdam
two barstools down at The Hound
laughing with a friend in The Gnu’s Room
on the sun-covered Thatch Concourse
coming down the aisle at Kroger

she’ll be played in the film by Michelle Monaghan
and of course John Cusack will play me

why are you laughing?

7 February 2013
Auburn AL

/ / /

I see a particular woman in Auburn nearly every day. It’s a small town, so there are many people I see often, but not like this person. I see her so close to “every single day” that I notice if a day goes by without running into her. I finally introduced myself the other day, so I can at least greet her by name when we pass. Having just seen her this morning, and inspired by a good question and a good phrase from a friend, I wrote this poem. There’s no more to the story than that. Honest. The photo is by Jamieson Pryor.

skylight, revisited

I awoke
to the rain
on the skylight

and though
this isn’t perfect

it’s more
than enough
for a Thursday
morning

7 February 2013
Auburn, AL

/ / /

The poem that closes my forthcoming book is called “skylight” and it’s very sad. So today I tried to capture a more contented view of that same set of conditions.

From My new apartment

townhouses

there’s a country music DJ
who never expected
to be here this long
he wishes he had a house
so he could spread out

a young couple:
he studies rocks
she teaches Irish dance
to mostly willing children

next door to me, a painter
exposing her watercolor heart
and a guitarist who,
with a little whiskey and a cold,
can sound just like Tom Waits

up the little gravel driveway
in an almost-tower
on the third floor
another artist is making
herky-jerky videos of a dancer

next to her is a guy
whom none of us has met
but we’ve seen the boxes
piled inside his door

the architect who
built this little village
is still here, wearing overalls
making small adjustments

so is his wife, the life
of our continuous party
always ready with
a smile and a hug

and then there’s me
writing in my notebook
listening to my new birds sing
enjoying the last rays
of the afternoon sun

3 February 2013
Auburn, AL

From My new apartment

gifts from friends

the Buddhist prayer flags in my atrium
the lentil and mushroom soup warming my stomach
Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots by the Flaming Lips
the moon seen from the rooftop

most days I miss the bridges and tunnels
but then I remember the flags and the soup
and the music and the moon
and I think I might stay here a while

28 January 2013
Auburn, AL

consequences

it wasn’t until
the bucket hit the water

that I spotted the spider
I hadn’t meant to drown

27 January 2013
Forest Ecology Preserve
Auburn, AL

touching bottom

I was six, maybe seven
we were all in the pool
at my friend Adam’s house
on a summer afternoon
at that age we mostly stayed
out of the deep end
but I got the urge to explore
I guess I was treading water
when my arms got tired
and I started to slip lower
just like that
I was looking up at the
fuzzy sun through a
rapidly thickening layer
of chlorinated water
my feet touched bottom
I must have stayed there
for an hour, maybe two
not needing to breathe
not really afraid
just accepting
I feel like I should
remember panicking
but it’s a peaceful memory
just the water and my
small body beneath it

/ / /

the way I heard it afterward
Adam’s dad realized
I was missing
and jumped into the pool
to pull me up from the bottom
I was fine, of course
well, as fine as anyone can be
who misses a chance like that

26 January 2013
Auburn, AL