April 11, 2012

NaMoPoWriMo, Again

While I haven't been writing a poem-a-day, or writing from prompts, the spirit, like pheromones in the room, have encouraged me to, if not at least to write (what I do anyways), but to publish the pitiful drafts this month.  Here's one from last Friday.  Another "first I do this, then I do that" poem.


Tom Whalen is sitting on a bench on Broadway
with his dog, & I sit down next to him.
I tell him I have met his daughter & his wife
but have never met him.  He doesn’t answer.

It’s Friday, both “Good” & “First”, so folks
are walking around looking at “Art.”  I talk
to Chris about Buddhism, photos, water & wine.

Uptown, on Lark St., “The Heart was Made
to Be Broken” is for sale at the UAG, & I
meet Lacy growing into her beauty as I watch.

There are babies in backpacks & twitching men
in wheelchairs & beat-off art on the top floor
of the Romaine Brooks Gallery on Hudson Ave.

Tom doesn’t tell me what he knows, but I
suspect his silence is only sculptural. 

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