I had a notion a while ago that my goal for the year would be to write one good poem.
The wife writes lots of them, but I think too much and mine get all warped and tangled up. Here's my first try at keeping it simple.
Grey Morning
make coffee &
put the baby back to sleep
check the orders, pack the books
birdsong in the yard
ignore the knocking on the door
look in on my sleepers
gather up a book & pipe
smoke & read on the deck
in the cool sea air
bluejays fight in the tree
listening to the birds
things are changing
I think lines six and seven are my favorites. And the title, itself, is quite poetic. :)
ReplyDeleteAgreed: "my sleepers" = cool image tangling the people with what they're wearing and cozy blankets.
ReplyDeleteThe last line inspires: What "things"? Winter to spring? The mood, straight to stoned? Ah, mutability.
I'm such a sucker for a poem.
On another note: Reading Wallace here. Read the essay on him and am now reading the excerpt of the book he left unfinished having, mind you, never read anything but having read his graduation speech I think you pointed me to.