(24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30)

Thus concludes a month of absolutely abhorrent and unpublishable poetry. Well, actually, to be strictly honest, I met my goal. I wrote an average of one scribble per day. My guiding principle has been 'fits and starts', and I had quite a bit of both.

Writing obligatory makes me more and more nauseous each time I do this, so I'm not sure if I'll continue in the future. But for now, anyway, here's the obligatory first FIRST super raw and ugly drafts of poems with none of the discrimination or selective quality filters I'd normally put on what leaves the notebook. Please don't take this as a measure of my work (but maybe, maybe, a measure of my play?).

(24)Lazy Haiku

Last day of April,

and seven poems behind.

It's time for haikus!

25. Faithful

an instant and resounding crack

envelops all of it--

bone and muscle, blood and fat,

leaves nothing but the smell

of someone else's fire

in my nostrils

in my ears,

the echo of a nameless god

calling,

“this is my body”

and though I know that it was not for me,

i am ready to be broken. 

(for a priest of Baal in the Elijah story)

(26)Day 6

Dear Mom and Dad: I am settling into li

fe here fairly well. Today I received my r

oom assignment; I've been placed in o

ne of those flats which loses an inch ea

ch year. Of course, I am not complainin

g. They do say that the Reduction Com

mittee has marvelous plans for all of the

extra space which will be collected, and

several years from now I will not even n

eed the extension cord which was furni

shed with the room. Which reminds m

e, the furnishings are all a pleasant colo

r which they call, “Deep Mist.” I suspect

this has something to do with the simil

arity to the weather outside. I have fou

nd it quite synergizing to sit in my cha

ir and look out the window; everything

is in line. Which reminds me, how are t

hings back home? Has there been any

improvement with the situation? Pleas

e write back to me soon, Love, Ariadne

(27)Day 13

Dear Mom and Dad, All is well h

ere. I am fulfilling all of my oblig

ations. Making friends has prove

d as difficult as ever. Three days

ago, I met Mrs. Brunstmeyer fro

m the flat above when her cat k

nocked a flower pot from her pa

tio onto mine. Fortunately the f

urnishings also included a small

grey broom, so I was able to sw

eep up and return the pieces to

her. I asked whether she had a p

ermit to grow flowers, but I sup

pose it is like you said, many pe

ople take curiosity for rudeness

and I do not think we are friend

s now. However, I console myse

lf in watching the grey mist thr

ough my window; it is so peace

ful. I really hope all is well at ho

me. Faithfully yours, Ariadne.

(28)New

Mankind stands thigh-high

in God's boots,

trying to walk with grace like Daddy does.

We try to insist on our own legitimacy

and it's cute,

really,

how we try for humble

and then stumble into self-denial

how we try for grace and land

at amnesia

how we try for making all things new

and fall for making all new things.

But it's lovely

how we show so little desire

to try on boots our size.

(29)Hide Not

It is musical how a spring could

tune the world to wonder

but many (who) imagine differently

turn out troubled

some thoughts born in sky will fall

all that is new will start stumbling

(30)Ode to a Lost Journal

I left you

at the Church.

I suppose it was poetic.

I was surprised to find you missing.

I'd taken all the proper precautions

and still you were inevitably gone.

It's amazing how unable I became

to write in any other medium.

It is amazing how fast

I resigned myself

to your absence.