Write a poem about a spider. This poem should not rhyme.

You always joked at your own expense: fat, ugly, high school dropout. We Never questioned your self-debasement, your children, who would Never Believe you’d lie, leading us astray, you, who we trusted just had to Know Everything—you taught us the world, what it looked like…

Original line is from Howl, by Carl Ginsberg: “who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish” I cannot tell you how or who creates poetry out of the scribbled, mush-mashed ramblings told by all….

I see you, trios of service industry stars, you’re just waking up now, and your females hiding in their Jackie-O glasses, and your males, oh, you – look at you in someone’s grandpa’s sweater. and bespectacled and lean as Tom Joad…you remember buying Grapes of…

When we took on the world it was just us two Hard to believe we’d trod so many roads Hard to believe that our paths have now diverged We had the perfect journey to believe in It started with sunlight so bright in lights of…

my kid’s kid is a goat, the yogurt eating, head butting, Lord of the pasture; is gently teaching my child to be a shepherd; I observe my child shall put another’s needs before her own generously, and not leave the other to desire or want

Outliers chasing Outsider fire dragons Mostly vague ideas Slapping and snapping Their consciousness Between tokes and smokes An exclusive club Open to all who dare to Enter darkness No dress codes or haircuts Allowed in this club; only High fives are given Or kisses and…

The prompt for hour eight is to write a golden shovel. Not familiar with the form? That is not surprising, it was created in 2010 by the poet Terrance Hayes in his poem The Golden Shovel. It is pretty simple though. First you take a…

My baby girl, full of Grace strong, beautiful, radiant. Seeing past the pain until it overwhelms and engulfs once more. My baby girl, full of Grace, trying to breathe trying to calm until she can rest, but not progress. My baby girl, full of Grace…

Except that stores are still open and people still shop in them, nothing looks like the end of the line. Aldi’s isn’t the Algonquin, but it would prove – to the alien beings waiting their turn – that we were more than consumers. As the…