Today is a good day, the Mavs won even without Luka to tie the series against the Jazz 1 : 1, birds are happy, the spiral looks up, these are my trees and here is my poem.
Prompt 19: “Today’s challenge is to write a poem that starts with a command. It could be as uncomplicated as ‘Look,’ as plaintive as ‘Come back,’ or as silly as ‘Don’t you even think about putting that hot sauce in your hair.’“
What is poetry See, this poem starts here. There is no other time. It knows no other than first me, then you, and now this. Look how it peeks at all there was because each poem has a history, tactile memory, the treasure chest of the senses. It doesn’t exist in the vacuum. It has travelled. Watch where it goes from here. The poem decides how it shall end. It is tempted to spiral downwards with the devil and lose, upwards with the angels and lie. A small bit of what was, a big bit of what is, a small bit of what is coming. Have you noticed? This poetry, so much like life.
The last day in my NaPoWriMo history
As if the happiest door saw for the first time three years made into one – notice how fresh improvement was done with the mouth or is it cheek? Here is the entirety again, now decidedly murky.
“The limits of my language mean the limits of my world,” said he. Now the limits of my world are the limits of my home. “Hell is other people,” said he. Now hell is still other people, even more so. I was always picking this and that, a stone, a shell, a leaf. None in the last two months. My camera does all the picking. I touch nothing.
2021: Male gaze
Goodbye then, unknown man on the internet, one in a billion, I never loved you but I had to kill you, you and your male gaze, no matter that I know men will gaze just like lions will gazelle. Or in the words you quoted and will be the last I ever see: “Everybody is left where they made a wrong turn.” (Read all.)
This day in my blogging history