Poetry Goal 2020: to read a poem* every day.
. . .
My own disappearance
followed a cloud
that found me
sitting in a garden.
Tunnels reproduce the patterns of arteries.
There’s a worm in the heart
that’s feeding on its allowance.
+ . . .
My job is to extract your soul and usher it
along to where today we find, north of north,
a strip of sand wide as wide, a branch of river,
leaf deep. Nothing surrounds or meets us here.
My pleasure—your contentment, your acceptance
of eternity, here—that I have chosen right by you.
*Or more. I’m not tracking, I’m just reading. I’m not limiting this experience to one poem a day – that is only the minimum.
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