For me the point of participating in something like NaPoWriMo and Art Every Day Month (November) is that in order to meet the dailiness of it, sometimes you just have to put out what you’ve done, whether it’s good, bad or indifferent.

The lesson is that something you shrug at yourself will hit someone else as exactly what they’ve been waiting for, something that lifts their day.  I don’t know how that works, but I do know that is *does* work because I have personally received so many private and public comments about blogs  where I thought:  well, I did it, onward.  You just never know what you’re being a conduit for.

The first poem today is from an early morning dream that was pretty much in full memory when I woke this morning.  It’s my “well, ok, there it is” poem for the day.  The 2nd one (yes! two in one morning!) took off after I private messaged a girl friend on FaceBook.  I know I’m getting in my groove when I start to find poems just like that!

In My Dream I Drop

In my dream I drop to my knees,
drop to the ground, roll into a ball
of tears and grief.  The person with me
has no face, leans in to console, straightens,
gazes across the field where I lie, stricken,
a field from my childhood days on the
Eastern Shore of Maryland, transported
to someplace unnamed in Florida, a place
meant for a month’s vacation but after a week
I am packing to leave, a week’s accumulation
enough for a lifetime – no place to put it all –
the giant ceramic giraffe – how will I ever move it
without breaking apart?  I awake, the dream still
unrolling in my head – I need no analyst for this one,
find myself grateful for small gifts, lift my pen
to pour out today’s poem.

A String of Ordinary

I’d like a string of ordinary –
the rising-and-setting-of-sun,
seagull-laughing-at-inside-jokes,
grass-growing and grapes-ripening,
clock-ticking, clothes-washing,
dinner-cooking, work happening
ordinary – unobtrusive and comfortable
as a warm comforter on a cold cold night.