your yesterdays


muddy my forevers,
wet river footprints
on the kitchen floor

of the house we’ll never buy.
we argue
over the absolute value

of nothing, the hollows
it leaves under your eyes
when we open the front

door and the world
comes in with the rain.
someone asked me once

why i write
poetry, and i didn’t have
a ready answer,

but after
so much of argument, i
think it’s to believe,

still, in
love, in all its
hot swollen

nothings that creep
like poison

just under the skin,
its falling headfirst
over and  over and

over, somer-
saults into river shadow,
into, again, nothing,

the absolute value of which
is still up
for discussion.

18 thoughts on “your yesterdays

  1. No one ever asks me why I write poetry. They ask why I continue writing poetry. I liked this very much – somewhat wry, somewhat happy. Good to see you back on the horse.

  2. we argue
    over the absolute value

    of nothing…ha, i like your play in that…and your reason for poetry as well…its writing..and i can control that…i can make my tfantasy tangible at least on the page…hey and value is all that we make of it, right?

  3. especially loved this piece: arguing over the absolute value of nothing… great idea in itself and – simultaneously – such a clear statement of a specific human situation. Yup: great write.


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