Poetry Machine
Turned my phone into a poetry machine, but found a problem: the poems came out too clean. Then turned my fingers into typing digits, but found a problem: the letters were too rigid. Then I turned my mind into a tabula rasa, but found a problem: it smelled that smoky kielbasa. Then I turned early evenings into ethereal moments, but found a problem: they lacked a certain permanence. Now I'm left with baby nap mornings, and haven't found a problem yet: better get my fingers pouring.
Imperfect
There are many ways to be imperfect. Shampoo In your eyes is one. Shampoo in your baby's eyes is two. Running out of shampoo is three. There are many ways to be imperfect. Driving too fast is one. Driving while using your phone is two. Almost hitting walking humans is three. There are many ways to be imperfect. Not knowing how to settle yourself is one. Settling for too much is two. Wandering around in the desert is three. There are many ways to be imperfect. Forgetting about your nose hairs is one. Forgetting about your toenails is two. Forgetting about what you love is three. There are many ways to be imperfect. Worrying about having to be perfect is one. Getting comfortable with being too imperfect is two. Imagining there ever was such a thing as perfection is three. What is it that compels us to seek freedom from mistakes? What is it that drains our joy, when joy is in the messy mysteries?
Or, Two Poems About Writing Poetry and Imperfection
Poetry Machine
Turned my phone
Into a poetry machine
But found a problem:
Poems came out too clean
Turned my fingers
Into typing digits
But found a problem:
Letters were too rigid
Turned my mind
Into a tabula rasa
But found a problem:
Smelled that smoky kielbasa
Turned early evenings
Into ethereal moments
But found a problem:
They lacked a permanence.
Now I'm left with
Baby nap mornings
Haven't found a problem yet:
Better find my fingers pouring.
Imperfect
There are many ways to be imperfect.
Shampoo In your eyes is one.
Shampoo in your baby's eyes is two.
Running out of shampoo is three.
There are many ways to be imperfect.
Driving too fast is one.
Driving while using your phone is two.
Almost hitting walking humans is three.
There are many ways to be imperfect.
Not knowing how to settle yourself is one.
Settling for too much is two.
Wandering around in the desert is three.
There are many ways to be imperfect.
Forgetting about your nose hairs is one.
Forgetting about your toenails is two.
Forgetting about what you love is three.
There are many ways to be imperfect.
Worrying about having to be perfect is one.
Getting comfortable with being too imperfect is two.
Imagining there ever was such a thing as perfection is three.
What is it that compels us to seek
Freedom from mistakes?
What is it that drains our joy
When joy is in the messy mysteries?