24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
2022 is my sixth year participating in the Poetry Marathon. As usual, I plan to do the half-marathon—because sleep. The current incarnation of my more-or-less official bio goes like this: According to his phone’s auto-complete function, Kevin J. O’Conner ‘is a poet who is not sure what he does, but doesn’t have any other way to make sure he has a more appropriate experience with his own story.’ This is not far from the truth. To date, Kevin has published twelve full-length poetry collections; his latest is 2019's WISHES SOMETIMES HAVE CONSEQUENCES. His poems have also appeared in The 143 Project, The CDC Poetry Project, Raven Chronicles, Spindrift, Passionfruit, The Poetry Marathon Anthology (2016, 2017, 2019), and Voices That Matter. He used to live by a creek near Seattle, but now he lives in the City of Subdued Excitement. These days, a pronounced case of something resembling writer's block has Kevin focusing more on creating improvised sounds (which may or may not be music) using a variety of electronic instruments. The titles of the resulting pieces are closer to poetry than he otherwise gets. Consequently, this year's marathon should be a good chance to shake out the cobwebs a bit. https://ordinaryaveragethoughts.com/ * * * * * * * * * * Now on with the countdown!
Wednesday afternoon
walking the few blocks down the hill
with a dollar in my pocket
past the Presbyterian church
and neighboring houses
through the vacant lot
to get to the shortcut
Sliding down the dirt embankment
to the parking lot on Rainier Avenue
I make sure I have my dollar
(plus five cents for tax)
then walk up to the window
‘Four hamburgers, please’
(5 August 2017)
Stop
Close your eyes
and go to sleep
When you
close your eyes
do you dream?
Try not to
close your eyes
without dreaming
Now
close your eyes
What do you see?
(5 August 2017)
I’m not sure how I feel
about eternity now
As an escape, it’s flawed
because you can never come back
As a feeling, it’s frustrating
because sometimes you just want to get on with it
And what sort of eternity
are we talking about?
Is it forever and ever
or change is a constant?
Is there a difference?
Because I may need to bring a change of clothing
As for the timing
wouldn’t eternity now negate everything that came before?
I don’t know if I can go along with that
I have things to do
(5 August 2017)
At 150,000 miles
the sun appeared
a reddish dot
against an indistinct grey sky
its color a clever cover
for the furnace within
Bleary-eyed
and a bit numb
I drift through my morning routine
thinking of as little as possible
because I know what happens
when I start thinking
I tried to photograph the scene
but the sun literally paled
photographs, like memories
capture only so much
losing the rest
to what we wanted them to be
The morning air
is cool to the touch
I know that feeling too well
that’s what happens
when the hand is withdrawn
leaving the desire behind
(5 August 2017)
Smoke fans out from the fire
travelling hundreds of miles
in search of its own demise
But it cannot escape the heat
however far it flees from the flames
the sun will still have its way
Clouds provide no relief
it has been 49 days since last rainfall
the sky is empty
Or is it a case of misplaced irony—
Trapped between sky and earth
mitigating otherwise oppressive heat
wishing for rain…
(5 August 2017)
Greetings and Salutations! I have again signed up for the insanity that is The Poetry Marathon (okay, half the insanity, since I’m planning to do the 12-hour version—so help me, I like sleep); this is my introduction.
(more…)
Yesterday, I participated in my first poetry marathon. Well, technically the half marathon. Twelve new poems in twelve hours. This morning, I’m very tired.
The whole exercise was deceptively difficult—not that I thought it would be so easy, but when I sit down with my big sketchbook to write, I often will write three or four poems at a time, taking maybe twenty minutes or so. That’s what I was thinking would happen when I signed up.
The way it actually worked was (more…)
For my last official poem of the day, I followed the prompt.
Don’t panic
You may feel that there’s not a minute to spare
but the moon is not bound by your constraints
If you cannot hear her whispers at midnight
do not be alarmed
she has not deserted you
She will not reveal herself before you’re ready
The wait may be agonizing
but she will not appear before you a moment sooner
not until the lake is ripe to receive her
Then her reflected glory will be your reward
only then will you understand
The emblem on her breastbone serves a purpose
this will not be revealed
Simply accept that she is here for you
and act accordingly
(13 August 2016)
Where is there left to go
when you’re neither neither nor nor?
When you’re not allowed a name
only a label?
When you’re defined by what you (don’t) have
instead of who you are?
When confronted by the fact of your existence
they’d rather you disappear?
When they can’t see beyond the situation
to recognize where you were before?
When you scream out loud
only for them to pretend you’re not there?
Where is there left to go
when you’re neither neither nor nor?
(13 August 2016)
A found/blackout poem of sorts—I went through a book about film posters and underlined certain phrases, then added my own bit at the end.
Critical decision
It is often said that
this is the former summarizing the latter
In the former situation,
I tend to judge the relationship
right down to natural instinct
To the extent
the end of the story came into being
in a totally different light
I spoke to impulse and reaction
a stress on chronology
as if this inclination
is not a field beset by exceptions
Seriously, though:
Where do you want to go for dinner?
(13 August 2016)