Sundays in October
On Sundays in October we find
a particular form of surrender.
We surrender to the cold blowing
of the leaves, the wind dragging
its extra burden through the street.
We give in to the heavy, grey clouds
and the early darkness, and the weight
of full, cold raindrops. We fall
into our houses, our eyelids half-lifted,
half pulled down against it all.
We fall into our warm lit spaces and let
October cover us at dusk like a blanket.
So the purpose of this blog is to be a space to practice creativity. I am currently using it as a place to record a single, unedited poem for each day in 2019. While I attempt to write everyday, I may not actually post daily. Instead, I will post poems as they are completed, but one for everyday of the year. Not sure I can make it, but we'll see. It's fun to try regardless :)
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Poem: January 21, 2026
Forecast Just suggest the possibility of snow on the horizon, and I become truly useless. The storm’s three days away and on a weekend, but ...
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Maintaining Some people won’t straighten their desks at the end of the day, but I do, most days, and I sweep the floor as well, ten to tw...
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To Sleep I think I’m looking forward. Who can say what’s going on? I sleep well enough. I’m comfortable, but I wake up from dreams that seem...
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Allegory of the Cave You open the door, and an alien is standing there, probably backlit, as those guys usually are– big head, long, pointy...
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