The poet, near collapse

Tired and writing…

as exhaustion negates duties

neither civic or literary

in the world that caused me to become

women crafting aforementioned lines.

Schedule

Return cards

                call bank

                                get  new books

                               

                                                Write novel

                                                Write 2 poems

                                                Play catch up in third project

                                                Write a music review

Plan paratransit

Talk to girl

Practice kindness

Wheelchair stall: Lobby bathroom Harrisburg Hilton

Day 3 of Robert Lee Brewer's PAD chapbook contest

Hyperventilation, anaphylaxis

automatic  tightening of airways…

Imaging self  here in this poorly designed,

supposedly wheelchair accessible toilet

in this hometown hotel.

Falling here,

bought about by toxic mix of

poor decisions in moment of panic,

poor assistant hiring choices,

and legs muscles made all the more poor

by years in poor power chair seating system

has cost me  12 months and counting

of life as I knew it.

When I go home for Christmas

I must confront this place,

forcing trembling legs to rise

even an inch here with chair

and more reliable assistant

right behind me just might

defeat the demons that keep

my healed leg from holding me.

 

Another Writing Poem

Animals occupy thoughts…

From pit bulls, to dolphins, orcas

(a word a wished was pluralized orcae).

I plot origin stories…

escapes…

perhaps a Star Trek style energize,

although I’ll find another word

as I imagine future Earth where oceans

mean freedom for Sapiens

and are therefore forbidden.

This weird little tale grows and grows,

requires research, might be something

worth saving after November.

Tomorrow involves traveling to Amherst

to buy Legos and visit their library

Returning wrongly purchased cards to Family Dollar

(How hard is it to follow instructions?)

And, of course, made plans to write, write, write

until Monday dawns.

Glutton for Punishment

This is my first 30 poems in 30 days entry.   Still seeking donors.  Have rewards. 

I bicker…                 

I write…

I read…

            Decide to turn dolphins

            into my new book's abolitionists.

           

            Plan plot twists

                        to reach 50,000

                                    while wrangling other writers

toward the same goal.

Research sea mammals

at Barnes & Noble.

feeling like an indie bookstore

patriot turned bloody back

especially after buying a Christmas card.

            Forgive as card is a random act of kindness

            en route to a boy the medical industrial complex

            deems inches from death.

                        Hope personal defiance of such predictions

is transferable via postal service.

Pray the angels pay attention to wishes

sent to strangers in the mail.

Come home.
Write poem.
Add words to Nanowrimo novel.
Don’t even press a single key
in pursuit of November chapbook challenge victory.

Know that each day in November
will begin behind the eight ball.