Detroit to Los Angeles to San Francisco, and back to Detroit. Writer; Irresponsible linguist. Poet; apprehensive towards convention. Reverent of lineage. Teacher. Student. Backseat DJ. Passionate about tech. Passionate about people. Grammatically correct (ish). A dreamer. A builder. Storyteller.
Day 3- Find the nearest book (of any kind). Turn to page 8. Use the first ten full words on the page in a poem. You may use them in any order, anywhere in the poem.
Rebellions, Perversities, and Main Events (Page 8, Murray Kempton)
"enjoying the changes that he thought Duke Ellington childish, having perhaps"
I hope to never lose childish.
Snowballs that know only honest thought.
From first flake until serenades into holy.
They are entirely what they are made of, and what we throw them at.
Now 20 years since tooth-fairies were forgotten,
He looks at her tired feet, the shoes she is walking away from, and wishes to never leave winter.
His mind spins full of moments, and other things too large to hold in hands that are more cracked than lifelined
or perhaps to small to keep from passing through the space between between leak-free days and insolvent gaps in his capacity to tether himself to a thermostat.
Sub-zero temperatures keep glaciers intact,
From having no recourse but to pour out of wounds January keeps hidden.
From behind blank stares and forced smiles.
From beneath feet tip-toeing around frost-covered furnaces.
He could be a pianist.
She is a frozen piano. Longing to be made into melody.
Mixed ivory frozen in lockstep such that even the warmest chords freeze and fall from the air.
Crash to the ground like planes unable to deice fast enough for their wings to fly them to the sun.
Duke Ellington cannot be the only harbinger of enjoying humanity
when it’s too cold for key changes.
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