I have not been doing NaPoWriMo because I haven’t had time. But this lack of poems is giving me a kind of malaise. So here’s one off-the-cuff. It KILLS me not to revise. But if I don’t begin writing poems again, I shall go mad, so sacrifices have to be made.
I have no time to write this poem
but I am jealous
of the poets who have written every day this month.
I drink in their words as one parched
for every stolen sip
There is (and I have no time to start this line with something other than “there is”)
a weight in my belly
that comes from words not thought.
the weight of the sun
I am hiding myself from.
(And I have no time not to end a sentence with a preposition)
Even more than words run away with me,
it is the meanings of things,
the Universe I long for
in these pilfered glances
A poem may not make
but it does take water/fire/thieves/ paradox
and make them