2 Days Until 24 in 24

Some inquisitive readers have emailed about the rules of the challenge. Since there’s nothing at stake – there are no bloody rules! However, this is how I’m approaching the task: starting at 9AM CST on 3/25/22, I will post a poem written sometime the hour preceding. Then, at the top of every hour for the twenty-four hours, I will post a poem written sometime the hour preceding. I don’t plan to write three or four and then use WordPress’s scheduler. Just a poem an hour every hour for twenty-four hours.

I do hope some of you play along, too!

Another question someone asked is “Why?” I have no good reason for this – no charity nor cause. It’s simply a way to channel hypergraphic energy and experiment with sleep deprivation to see what results. That’s it. Simple, silly fun. Write hard.

2 Days Until 24 in 24

Haiku for Instagram Poetry

What the fucking fuck?

These are just aphorisms!

There’s no literary devices at all and completely banal observations like “I have a heart. Before you, it beat like a normal heart does according to science,” and look hey if you dig on it – that ain’t no thang but a chicken wang – you keep on reading and loving it and enjoy but got-damn! I don’t get it. You give me an Insta Poet writing this zzzzzzzzzz and I will provide you the name of writer you can read who shows (not tells!) what it means to express something hard/tragic/magic/beautiful using artful language, rather than pedestrian sentences enjambed for no good reason. I mean, not even any imagery, like the most basic of poetic devices – literally, “You were my dog, but I am cat person #poetryisnotdead.” Not yet, but you’re doing a bang-up job of killing it, motherfuckers!

Tears fall. Toilets flush.

(Sorry you had to bear witness to my breakdown. And look, I know from bad poetry. I’m the guy who wrote an entire book of sonnets about your mom and composed an ode to a miniature version of Milli Vanilli hiding out in my underwear drawer, but yesterday I clicked on an article about Instagram poets to follow for Poetry Day and I wish I hadn’t. Can someone explain the appeal?)

Haiku for Instagram Poetry

This Love Tonight

I don’t wanna call it a night.
I don’t wanna call it a day.
I just want this forever,
what we got here tonight.
This love, this love, this love.
Thank god, we got this love tonight.

Someday, it will be different.
I guarantee, just wait and see.
I’ll be old and you’ll be bored.
But I won’t wanna take it back.
No, I won’t wanna take it back.

So let’s stay here forever.
Let’s do it all over again and again.
Let’s feel each other tremble.
Let’s dissolve imagined boundaries.
Let’s build countless, hidden empires
over and over again and again.

Let’s become twin gods together.

Let’s find that silent space
where there are no words to share,
grow intertwined like trees
that only fire can rage through.
I will deny you nothing ever.
Ever.

Everything about you 
fits where I am hollow.
Oh god, I swear I’m flying
despite the weakness in my knees.

This Love Tonight

The Hunt

Let me know 
what you think
about my new
video game idea:

It’s a 4-D action/adventure, socio-politico, platformer
set in a randomly-iterated universe using a believable physics engine.

You play
as a butterfly
who wants to retire
to its plush room
every night, and spend
those nights
in deep thought
about how
to make its room
more cozy.

The room has a library
and dungeons and
a swimming pool
filled with bumblebees.

Every morning
the player decides
what the butterfly needs
to say
to face
the day.

After the player chooses
the morning affirmation,
the player
molds the world
into magical items
to sell
at the witch market.

I call the game The Hunt because
as play progresses
the player
comes to realize
that the grim reaper
is chasing a bounty
on the butterfly’s
tiny, antennaed head.

The player
will never
discover
who placed
the bounty.

The Hunt has one mode:
Player vs. Death.

The butterfly
has many powers
that impact
the game universe
so
the player
must hold
out hope
for excitement
and adventure
and mystery
and surprise
and terror,
always terror.
The Hunt

Proprioception

I'm out my mind!
I'm out of my head!
I'm out of my life!
What a scene, this dream!

I wanna show you!
I wanna be your friend!
Wanna be that one that can be!

No,
that’s not really what I meant to say…

I just wanna ask…
I wanna go out on a limb…
Can we pose together?

I mean, can I get a yoga date?
Please, please can I get a yoga date?

Damn, all I wanna
Is to share a few asanas,
So can I get a yoga date with you?

I'm out of my mind!
I'm out of my head!
I need a yoke
to something greater in this lifetime!

It's like the magic of the wind
being so flexible.
You were expecting a rhyme here
Like “gurusexual”?

Nah, I just wanna yoga date with you.
Yeah, I just wanna stretch next to you.
For real, I wanna bend right next to you.
Oh, how I wanna wanna,
Sa-sav-asana next to you.
I just wanna yoga date with you.


Proprioception

Country Lament #223,804

You were the hungry one.

You were the ornery one;

the haunted one that survived…

the only one I ever loved.

You were the hopeful one. 

You were the faithful one;

the sacred one I waited for…

the only, only one.

Now I know without you

how the slow days go so lonely.

Now I know without you

 how lonely days go slow.

Now I know how isolation

spreads everywhere like cancer.

Now I know how it feels to be

some fruit left on the vine…

long past picking time.

You were the precious one 

I can’t let go of.

You were the cautious one 

I couldn’t fool.

You left me lifetimes

to remember, darling.

Now I’m living lifetimes

of over-ripe regret.

Country Lament #223,804

Death In Anger

This is a song about a universe who was a parent

It worked all day and night for its children

It only got what it paid for

It was the kind of universe

That never asked for anything

It was the kind of universe who had no time alone

It said its time was up

“All of me is spreading out and wasting here”

It told us everything

It told us too much

We turned it into a mechanism 

We forgot it is an organism

It gave its life to a life of crime

It will die in anger

We will say it was a leader

It was the kind of universe

You’d never wanna be without

It will die in cold, slow anger

Only a few of us ever saw it with its hair down

Death In Anger

To Banish By Illumination

For little selves in agonies,
the world takes time to realize
what dreams may come.
If we saw this moment at every moment
we might learn to welcome missing the smile on memory's face.
We'd dive into a pool of pink lemonade,
in this moment at every moment,
like fools, we'd try to drive to the moon.
I'd tell you I love you.

In a world without past,
and no predictive dashboards,
after a long and dirty search,
we found fresh seawater and a sandy beach
where we could sit and sigh together.
My feathered arms trembled as they held you,
next to an ocean breezing deep;
thrilled by brushing up against another’s wings,
things fragile and made for turbulence.
To Banish By Illumination