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Days 77-83: Many Opportunities Lost

So I was traveling and then I got back, which means that this moment is the first I’ve had in almost a week to think about, much lest post to, this blog. My apologies.

There were great words missed, but since I missed them AND this week’s Idol prompt (which I quite liked), I’m not going to beat myself up about it. Besides: I got to make a video today. That was fun. 

The upshot of it all is that I’m back, I suppose, and I haven’t forgotten to blog; I just haven’t had the time. Perhaps tomorrow…

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Day 73: makes me happy

the gentle sway
of train cars
as I sit and sip
a cup of hot coffee

the just-right fit
of those jeans that
you used to wear
and can wear again

unexpected wifi
that you don’t really
use because
the person
you’ve just spent
7 days with
is still first-day
dear to you

uniformed workers
meeting over
cards and coffees
to pass the miles

the small cosmos
of this cafe
car, all of
us hurtling across
dark landscapes
trying to find
home.

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Day 63: Where I work

I’m home now. Jackson-home, not New Iberia-home. I’m on my couch in my jammies, feet tucked under my cozy flannel blanket, laptop in my lap. I’m working–checking email, looking at materials for tomorrow’s classes, flipping through an essay collection that came while I was away. I’m trying to get my mind off of all the things that can occupy it on a long, lonely interstate drive: family troubles, work stresses, questions about my future.

I’m struggling against sleep, truth be told. I’m exhausted from all of it, the work that often happens on this couch, under this blanket. This is why I work on the couch. It’s a soft place to land when the hard edges of the day need smoothing.

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Day 61: Button(ed Up)

a draft

Button Button
Who’s got the
Switch that the witch
Used to stitch
Up his legs till they
Itched and he
Cried cause they lied
‘Bout the boy and
Half-tried just to
Blame him
And claim him
And shame him
To pieces.

The nieces
And nephews
And cousins
All sighed
Because everyone knows
That the witch isn’t blind
She just plays that for
You and for me
So that we
Can feel slick
When we flicker
All candlestick quicker.

We don’t feel
The burn till
The lock tumbler turns
And we look through
The bars to the sky
That’s not ours.