Writing Everyday


You know the sap
in trees is content
to wait the Winter, but
“Practice every day” you say


(But yesterday I slept all day
so it doesn’t count.)

So is poetry like going to the gym:
a necessary ping of time passing?

I’d like to think it’s more like a video game—
you need not play every day
but when you do, feel free to get obsessed:

forget to take your mental shower
stuff your soul on Cool Ranch Doritos and Mountain Dew
until you pursue your corporeal
non-thought to the end of its maze…

And writing the end of the poem is the boss level—
don’t forget to save your ammo…