"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Wednesday, April 1, 2015


Day One: A poem of negation.

It is not waiting for you on your doorstep
when you wake in the morning - there is
no morning dew struggling fruitlessly
to break through its plastic wrapping
and attack its soft, erodible exterior.

Nor is it in the mail, on its way to you
as we speak. There is no ship date, nor
an estimated day of arrival - no box truck
carries it carefully within its worn belly.

It does not settle in with you at night
under your blankets. It does not wait
for you to finish brushing your teeth
before it turns out every light in the house.

It does not turn off the lights. It shatters them,
takes them one by one from their homes
and smashes them down on plywood floors.

It does not care what you've spent. It does
not understand how hard you've tried. It
hides itself away, a hermit from those who
would love to find it the most. But it is not
merciless. It is only unreasonably selective.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Unknown Mortal Orchestra, So Good At Being In Trouble

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