66 Day Poetry Habit, American Sentence, Misc Poetry, Poetry

Poetic Fatigue Syndrome

The line tires me
but the great, gray
scratchy pens perk
like scalding coffee.

(Day 22 of my 66 Day Poetry Habit. Tired today, hence the doldrums poem. Not bad, just yawn and zzz. I’d rather a nap, but I promised myself, at the very least, an American Sentence to keep the streak alive. Here she is. Today’s American Sentence keeping the streak alive. Now… yawn and zzz.)

66 Day Poetry Habit, American Sentence, Misc Poetry, Poetry

Second Best Hair

Second Best Hair

Still keeps your head warm

And your lover’s fingers busy.


(Day 18 of my 66 Day Poetry Habit. This one is an “American sentence,” 17 syllables. Definitely not a home run, but enough to keep my streak alive and that’s what I’m all about on through the 67th day! Onward and forward.)

66 Day Poetry Habit, Misc Poetry, Poetry

Little Trees Do

Dragging the little tree’s
Corpse behind me a
Diatribe to the heatwaves
Rising from the cement

It’s not you, little tree
Doing what little trees do
Maybe even trying to
Shade the porch in
Your little tree ugly
Intrusive volunteer way.

It’s not you little tree
It’s the gardener
Who let you grow
Lets the rose bushes
Grow too
Evil arms that reach and
Grab in the walk

Blind to anything
But mow and go—
Especially go.

(Day 9 of my 66 Day Poetry Habit)