Between me and David, due Fridaysish.
There once was a boredom-filled girl
who thought she'd give poems a whirl.
But she'd nothing to write
that seemed not uptight
and kept her from wanting to hurl.
Yesterday's, for last week:
The soft clock ticks
The distant dogs bark
The mist drifts
The horses stamp
The moon hangs,
the lake shines,
the tall grass
and I sleep,
Thing I made while pretending I was writing a poem, and the reason I couldn't write a poem** (because I can't write about the same thing twice in a row. That's even more loserish and more of a cop-out than writing a bad limerick):
*Approach name taken from the great Jonathan Coulton, writer of such golden hits as the "Portal" theme (The Cake Is A Lie), Chiron Beta Prime, Re: Your Brains, and The Future Soon. (Hear all these for free--before buying!--at Joco's store.)
**Edit: apparently I can't think in logical progressions at 3 in the morning. Really, I already knew that, but it's a lot easier to remember before 1 AM. Anyway the reason I couldn't think of anything to write was not, obviously, the graph. Rather, the graph was the product of A) my new obsession with graph jam, and B) my not being able to think of anything (other than being awake at 3 AM) to write about. The reason I couldn't think of anything I deemed acceptable was, as you have probably already realized, the fact that I had already written quite recently another poem about being awake at 3 in the morning.