20 Lines A Day

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If I had married a poet
he would sing me to sleep with simile,
march into morning with metaphor,
brew the coffee, set the table,

a woven placemat for him,
a green one with lilies for me.
The white porcelain teapot, steaming

with water for my cup, two sugars, a slice of lemon,
and his strong coffee, black, no sweetness
except for the flavor of him
across the table.

We look, see much more,
speak, don’t speak.
The air is charged.
But,

he is not a poet.
He listens to my words,
understands my simile, my metaphor.
We have combined

our differences.
He is morning. I am night,
I the moon and he the sun
who has become my poet.


1 Comment

Like a Simile, Not Similar

Like a river
         not a stream
Like an Illusion
         not a dream
Like a car
         not boat or plane
Like going crazy
         but not insane

Like a wanderer
         never home
Like a hermit
         always alone
Like a mute
         never heard
Like a clown
         always absurd

Like knowing
         all that's messed up here
But having to speak
         to a deafened ear
Like doing all
         receiving none
And sweating
         just to get it done

Like having bosses
         so confused
When things get tough
         they think they're used
Like being blamed
         by everyone
For things
         you haven't even done

Like trying so hard
         you just can't sleep
With no reward
         you have to weep
Like going back
         time and again
And hoping that
         this all will end

But likenesses
         they aren't what's real
The truth
         is what they will conceal
I hope you see
         and most will claim
It's all just part
         of playing the game


Other Side Of Distance 7

For simplicity sake

strangers prefer

simile in telling

troubles

or furthermore

cliché over coffee orders

in the queue.

* * *

Perhaps

if this were like that

it would seem

less a lie

when hyperbole

begins its hail

* * *

Maybe instead for sake of ease

people like

the sense of familiarity

in one foreign with another

domestic.

* * *

At any rate, this was all to say

that those few minutes were like a blister.

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