did you guys see the poem from a couple of days ago in poetry dot org’s daily poem it was so good and a treat to read
#100
It was a wondrous day with splendid company.
Old friends but fresh rushes of feelings, turns of conversation,
And the laughter?
Hers.
Rich, bubbling, pure.
Like mustard meadowlarks singing for mountains streams.
His.
Grounded, unexpected, revitalizing.
The rough stream of sounds a lake makes under the watch of a persistent moon.
And of course, mine.
Not much of note, but if I were to speculate,
A little kitten leaping up the scales of an out of tune piano.
we had harmonized together.
Every hour was full of sweet humor and compassions.
When I had slipped into something less than,
His hand was at my slumped shoulder, thin fingers spinning shapes into my sleeve.
When it happened again and I felt at a loss,
She hurried beside me to help roll up my sleeves.
I'd like to believe I had been there for them in the smallest of ways.
There was surprise hugs from behind and comments of sentiment,
Shared sandwiches and the sweetest of silences.
A trio like us made me think of
Mundane mornings, nights out and exploring, of-
I pulled away.
It's a wondrous friendship we shared.
In a way, their company was wondrous and fearful tucked in a bundle.
I had hoped to keep relishing in their laughter for a long time.
I’ve had other wonderful days,
And yet
A four page comic about drawing, drawn for the Portland Public Library's newest exhibit, "Why We Make Comics: Reflections on Storytelling".
If you live in Portland ME, you can see this comic, as well as three others drawn by Isabella Rotman, Caroline Hu, and Liz Prince, on display from October 6th to December 31 at the library!
you think you are something less real than you are by Wendy Xu
blistered fingertips scratch against constricting linen
i lay in a bed of moss
underneath my grandmothers afghan
and woke surrounded in mold
the clay beneath
tugs, tearing open old gashes
revealing layers of decay
interlocking rigid muscle tissue
every motion scattering spores
i find myself coughing, clenching
crawling through the colonies
for
i am not
your
host
i am only
flesh
and
blood
and yet
that flesh is powdered in mildew
that blood is blooming
i will not yield
i swear
i will taste fresh air
alongside a mushroom omelette
without an inkling of a sour memory
but i fear
i am
rotting
when i leave this tight fit of an exoskeleton
i wonder what will be found from those times
when something was lost to the tide
rather than gathered and disposed of
there are some things
you just cannot rid the world of
corn cob husks
used-up push-pop tabs
empty of disinfection tablets
all the library books i could never return
paperbacks so worn down
with indentations and water damage
you can barely decipher the original text
neon orange, made to eat
inside-out wrappers, forgotten sweets
saved for never, piano sheets
shucking
prying
always denying
hoarding away contrabands
collecting what’s left for the next finding in the sand-
but even hermit crabs
in their ever adapting, tenacious habits
leave behind something worth remembering
Housekeepers and Janitors Need Praise As Unsung but Very Much Important
Please don’t take your pets for granted. Even if you’re frustrated that your dog has been barking all day or your bird has been screaming for attention, remember you are all they have in this world. Give your fish that extra water change. Give your dog or cat that tummy rub they’ve been begging for. Chop up some fresh fruit as a treat for your rodents or reptiles. Just spend some time with them. Be compassionate to your animals. They are living creatures that are alive simply because you wish them to be. They may only be a small part in your life, but to them, you are their everything.
Richard Hugo, Essay on Poetic Theory: The Triggering Town