This is me pretending that I had updated as much as I promised this year so far. In my writing, I've been working with a new program I finally downloaded on a friend's recommendation, Writemonkey. Basically, it gets rid of all distractions on your screen.
It does nothing for turning off your television though.
So here we go, my first poem using it.
After the date, you walk home.
The street is cold, wind mid-fall
and the leaves cluster by curbs,
curl into tires and skate by startled
cats. The city is empty, cardboard brick
desolation with staring botoxed eyes
from the corner of apartments. Projects.
Two streets away, and a bicycle passes,
dark face behind the headlamp, pavement
whispering chain rattle. Orange flash and
gone, the grunt of curb jumped, a sympathetic
the alley is there
to your right. A recognizable house, sunlight
on ocean's surface, waves hello, and a grayblack
thing drops onto a trash can, looks at you,
waking you to step in.
The wind is up, suckling at this thin capillary,
leads first, shoes follow and
while it's dark, it isn't the night of your childhood,
the winter camping emptiness,
the understair dark, instead
alive with your motion, the bricks against
your left hand and the stuttering
kicks of garbage underneath. You edge to the
middle and you're halfway home.