Day 1

Slipped by like any other day-

long of work, easy evening with the dogs

on the sofa-

T.V. shows

so memorable I can’t recall what

they were or who they starred-

My wife reminded me

“Today is the day”

I brushed it off like light snow,

sure day two could be the turning storm.

Day 2

I thought about day one

in the shower and on

the drive to work.

I mulled my thoughts with

clove and cinnamon and orange

drank my own Kool-Aid wine-

Dribbled out how day one felt

more like day zero, the day

before a beginning-

the day to find the wellspring

contemplate origins

marvel at the masterpieces and

failures sure to come.

Day zero is a place to start, too.

Day 3


Penne. Pesto.

Pasta. Perform.

Smile. Smile. Smile.

Sleep and write


Day 4

I told my wife,

who is diligent and loving

with her own muse,

I would write the words today.

Get them on paper,

that was the plan.

Day Four did not go according to plan.

Day 5


Five inky rings of golden Christmas words

The desolation of smoggy mind

I reminded my wife

Sometimes you write poop

to get to the gold

You sift through the silt to find the flakes

And I knew

If I really do want this chance

to harness the flimsy word flotsam

flowing through my showers and

swimming backwards through my brain


is the moment to grab them

to play with them while they’re still malleable,

hammer something​ out,

before they completely dissolve

into the nether-verse of never verse