Notebook, One Day Before My Birthday

I write poetry each morning,
Check off another step toward death
Just the way Shakespeare said

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Fall down in the leaves
When there are leaves
Fall in snow
When there’s snow

**

C’mon boyo
Stop playing
Throw your whole body
Onto the page

**

Pretend you’re Anaximander
Nothing holds up the earth

**

Picking up fallen apples for the horses.
My nation is dying. Ice comes to the pond.

Neruda: and I went my own way, deciphering….

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by skuusisto