Thanksgiving creeps up
fast, like a turkey farmer
wielding a sharp axe.
November
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Thanksgiving creeps up
fast, like a turkey farmer
wielding a sharp axe.
Hadn’t realized the
thermostat had to be set.
Freezing at 60.
Brought in the ficus
tree. Fallen leaves fly about.
Wind whispers, “snowfall.”
I’m not here. I’m lost
in Varanasi. A world
Luke Storm opened wide.
Site Meter tells me
my words are read in countries
I’ll never visit.
If everybody
blogged, we could not go to war
knowing each other.
Random strangers in-
tersect with few words, then sep-
arate like pulled threads.
props to kevin for this one
Many haikus wait
to be culled from your poems
Thin slivers of you.
Who’d have thought? One name
mentioned in my blog would blow
page views through the roof.
props to writeitoutplease for this one
Dayglo yellow green
drink attempts to co-opt our
freedom with caffeine.