Dear Friends,
Some of us need breakfast, and others need bread. This is my bread: three pages, every morning, to unleash the beast. I’ve been writing poetry since before I could speak in complete sentences. But sometimes, I will try to complete sentences.
Here is the first edition of my daily bread, from my mouth to yours. Yum! Doesn’t vulnerability make you hungry too?
Munch
I am nervous
To walk into a year
With no street signs
All I see are all alibis.
Of people dead
Of this line
Of work
It’s been spoken
(By therapists)
To be my Achilles heel
“Billionaires aren’t made
Spinning the wheel”
Please god
Help me find
Something
Real
Am I made of steel?
Because they lied!
Those producers already
Sold their stock.
But I don’t lie
(Well I try not to)
And God has right-sized me
But I can’t go through
With another can of Coke
I don’t want to be Sam
Though I’ve dug into my heels
As best as I can
I am now not my mothers
Daughter
I am now lost at the wheel
In these words
Again
But I married my father.
In bright covered
Teel
I must be asleep at the
Wheel
Or maybe I was?
If I brighten up my mind
It works every time
How can I tell you lies
When I’m on the other
Side
You can’t even hear me.
It’s too loud with light
I still do
Memoir
It’s how I know
To grow
Asleep at the wheel
To twist a steel wrench.
Can I just put down
The damn
Bow?
I am sad to admit
I want to use my bow
And arrow
To persecute
The Innocent
I’m dark again
Still
I will stop myself
This is for real, Sam.
