A poem a day in April from Rutgers English PhD students and friends.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Poem for the days gone.

I was absent and I’m sorry.  
My poems were absent and – they're not.
They really don’t give a shit
about the where and the when.

About timeliness and regularity,
they are ambivalent as hell.
They wouldn’t get off the couch
if Hillary were running for president.

I told my tardiness to a friend.
My tardiness: it did not end.
Still I thought the poems might come –
from guilt or boredom or curiosity.

I told my friend, I am weary of poems.
I prefer not to use words
at all. Prefer to
sit with them in silence: hear them.

Oh for a poem that is not mine;
for words I can follow and
leave myself behind. They are always
mine and not mine. There’s no
getting away.

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