When looking for a poem to publish, but tendency is to look backwards to last year or even a couple years ago. I’m not sure if it’s because the new ones are too fresh or if age makes the other ones seems that much better.
This week, I’m forcing myself to stay current instead of heading down to the wine cellar for something of a different vintage. Today’s poem was written less than two weeks ago and has only had a cursory editing pass so far.
noonafternoon victim of my success, victor of my failures: suffering about, panicked, twisted into straight lines marking out borders not honored by international courts. thoughts crease my shirt & wrinkles iron my brain clean, waiting for a simple hymn of peace, of love, of something other than whatever this is.