Hour 4: One Long Leg

One Long Leg

The podiatrist looked at me
Standing in my bare feet
But otherwise dressed, and said
“You’ve one leg longer than the other.”

Standing in my bare feet
I stood amazed that he
Could tell from just looking
That I was imperfect

“You’ve one leg longer than the other.”
And one breast that hangs lower
One foot with a bent-in toe
One brain with misfiring neurons

We are all of us imperfect
Standing in our bare feet
Or standing clothed, but solo
Trying to project perfection

Hour 3: hanging the lights

hanging the lights

shivering in the snow
I hold one end
of a long string of
multi-colored lights
a queue of gems
they reach from me
to my brother
standing on the ladder

the cold doesn’t
seem to bother him
nor the height
nor the precariousness
as he reaches out
along the eves
and hooks the lights
on timeworn nails

he likes the doing of it
the job, the task
but seems not to care
for the result
I like the effect
of the house lit up
on a cold winter’s night

the laborer and the poet
we construct
a Christmas vision

Hour 2: axiomatic

axiomatic (adjective)

it is true
I said it was true
what other proof
do you need?
just look
you can see for yourself
how true it is

I read on
the internet
someone told a story
in which this exact thing
I told you it was true.

Hour 1: Earth, Wind, Fire, and Water

Earth, Wind, Fire, and Water

We huddle, shivering, in the tent
Not the vacation we had planned
The wood was wet, the fire spent
The earth as sodden as quicksand
The rain pounds on, it will not relent
Beneath the tent the rivulets fan
The wind blows on in wild lament
It shakes the tent like a giant hand
My vacation days are all misspent
In this sodden, cruel wasteland
Camp again? I will not consent
Our next trip must include broadband


Trial Run 2


Wet, it washes me
Tinkling, it hits the roof
Fresh, the scent of moist earth


A trial run

I plan to cut and paste my work from word documents, and I want to see how that might go, make sure I know what I’m doing. So here is a test run with a poem I wrote this weekend. As a bit of introduction, I took my parents to visit the Holocaust Museum this past week, and out of that this poem arose.


Aktion T4


In October of 1939

Hitler instructed doctors and hospitals

to murder

the mentally challenged

the physically handicapped

those incurably sick

all those considered lebensunwertes Leben – “unworthy of life”

At first, they were just to be denied medical care and nourishment

to die slowly of neglect

Later, patients were injected, or gassed

to make the process quicker

By the end of 1941

93,521 hospital beds had been emptied by the policy


There were several suggested reasons for the program:

It reduced suffering, therefore it was compassionate

It cut costs

It eliminated pressure on the welfare budget

– Hitler was making Germany great again


Dear Mr. Trump –

Your health care bill is so slow

killing the undesirables by denial of medical care

And, besides, some weak or low energy people

might slip through

A program like this bigly guy’s (he was huge, let me tell you!)

would be much more cost effective

Think of the savings!

And how compassionate

when these people, uncomfortable to look at

are finally gone from your sight?

I suggest you call your program

Action Trump4


First timer

Hi, my name is Donna.

This is my first marathon. Not just poetry, I mean, I think it is my first marathon of any type. We may have had a fund-raising dance marathon in high school, but if I remember right, everyone just signed up for one hour. So it was like a team effort. Not like stay-awake-all-night-crafting-something-sensible sort of thing.

I’m thinking:

In the darkest hours / When the brain is surely fried / Can one write haiku?


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