Saturday… isn’t it?

by jhon baker

Getting late now and I will not post tomorrow I think. Going to take Sundays off from this blog/ journal and concentrate on hunting down inspira – bring my 30.06 and enough rope to tie it to the hood of my F-150.

This is another poem that was edited to eliminate two names of living persons who need not be attached to it for it to work and stand. Actually, I think the names took from it it’s meter and force.

poem in divisions

I must remember
tomorrow to
wash the sheets.
I must remember that
the starts above Broadway
are only imagined.

fire hydrants sit
by the street
waiting for disaster;
the mailman hangs out
waiting for conversation.
we take eleven photographs
from off the balcony.

the newspaper arrives
most days
while not arriving today.
the garbage truck comes
only once a week,
usually on time.

J. A. – I am with
you in prison
where your takers
keep watch while
the cell mates remind
you of your betrayal
to skin color.
in two days
F. will be driving up
and I’ve no fresh fruit
to offer or
tea to drink.

watching two insects
crawl on the screen
toward the holes
left for, or by them,
and overhearing a separate
apartment dweller sigh,
      “it ought not to have
      “been that way, but
      “it was.”

I must remember
to shower and
drink coffee before
going to work.
I must remember that
my clothes are
still on the floor from
last night.

I must remember
tomorrow to
wash the sheets.
I must remember that
the starts above Broadway
are only imagined.

– I wrote this

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