Hour Eleven – 2020

you are light


a moonshadow


Source: A reverse erasure culled out from the song lyrics of Moonshadow by Cat Stevens.

Hour Nine – 2020

Image taken from the prompt for Hour 8.

Tyger Is a Millenial

William Blake pulls out his phone
and texts the Romantics on WhatsApp.

He wants to show them the first draft
of his new poem, one that will be
recited by rote for years to come.

He isn’t aware of this at the time
as he goes about placing the right emojis
to transcreate his vision.

The tiger looks far from fearful
with no dread hand and no dread feet.
As meek as a lamb, Blake keys in

the other emojis, adjusts line breaks,
moves a few of them around, checks
for repetition, and hits send.

Wordsworth workshops Blake’s poem
by suggesting less in-your-face emojis.

Coleridge is late to the party
and texts back about being rudely
awoken from a dream

that remains open-ended till date.

Hour Five – 2020

fractal wrongness

winter’s crooked knife
is hope:

days [nearly green]
grow sad
in rude ignorance

my heart remains
a book of decay;

your bright eyes
stain a cold sun
at sorrow’s end

Hour Four – 2020

Recipe for Pretending That Everything’s Fine


– Mask (metaphorical or literal)
– 5 ounces of inappropriate laughter
– 2 cups of mitigated anxiety
– 1 bowl of feigned interest
– ¾ tablespoon of awareness


– Keep mask on at all times, except while showering and sleeping.

– Sprinkle an ounce of inappropriate laughter every time you begin a conversation. No more than five a day.

– Mix all of the mitigated anxiety into the bowl of feigned interest and stir until you get a composite of pretence in its purest form. Dust ¾ tablespoon of awareness for good luck.

– Serves 3-6 people a day, preferably at room temperature.

– Repeat the above steps on an as-needed basis.

Hour Three – 2020

Synectics: a list poem

Courage is a clock that runs without batteries.
Brilliance is assorted candy placed on the centre-table in your livingroom.
Despair is a dust bunny lodged in your throat.
Fear is dark chocolate with a hint of rum.
Curiosity is an unpeeled orange in a blue bowl.
Anger is an arrow that misses the eye of the fish.
Worry is the air that you and I breathe.
An idea is the bone that clicks into place when you rotate your head.
Insanity is a leaking waterbed.
Belief is the sand in your shoes you keep emptying.
Music is a balloon that never pops.
Disquiet is a pencil stub in the thrall of inspiration.
Wit is a paper with my name on it.

Note: I wrote this poem in response to a prompt where we are asked to combine an abstract noun with a concrete noun to produce interesting, disparate images. The term synectics, from the Greek word “synectikos,” means “bringing different things into unified connection.”