saturday

the garden needs tending. And the soul needs rest. Saturday is torn from other pages. I wrote this draft as part of National Poetry Writing Month. I hope to collect these works for a mixed media/writing piece I am working on entitled Love Letters to My Brother in Prison. 

friday

jubilant friday lingers on the lips and tongues, bitter and sweet drinks offering fun, freedom, forgetting. Friday music hovers over minds clouded with rushed desires, cramming life into too short hours. Frenetic Friday drives us mad with yearning. I wrote this draft as part of National Poetry Writing Month. I hope to collect these works…

thursday

Thursday is false. Thursday drowns in unrealized desires. Thursday the glass is neither half empty, nor half full. The glass simply is. Thursday rots into humus, nourishing nothing. Nothing is left. I wrote this draft as part of National Poetry Writing Month. I hope to collect these works for a mixed media/writing piece I am…

wednesday

this fulcrum of servitude balances precariously , as a week can dip in either direction.  Wednesday thunder songs are the loudest: flashes of brilliance and rain that promise growth. Wednesday romance is the strongest: not built on frivolity or neediness. Wednesday love is enduring, straddled evenly on both sides. Wednesday is the point we say:…

tuesday

Concentrate: try to think of a way to make Tuesday special. There is none. ———– Thinking of songs mentioning Tuesday. The Moody Blues and The Blue Nile sum up Tuesday: moody and blue. Tuesday is a timed impasse that cannot be walked around, only endured. ———– Yet tuesday hovers like mist obscuring hills. You cannot…

monday

gray clouds mist on monday morning commuters crawling on gray roadways. A new work week holds no promise, only repetition. Each day festers into the next. I wrote this draft this morning as part of National Poetry Writing Month. I hope to collect these works for a mixed writing media piece I am working on…