Ink Tea Stone Leaf

This July, I’m going to write a short poem (or a long one, who knows?) every day. I’ll post them once a week until the month is over. That pretty much explains it, I think.

July 1st, 2026

"Now listen," said Morris,
"you came at me like,
'gimme all the money in your wallet,'
and listen, all I'm sayin' is,
if you end on a trochee,
the rhythm, well the victim, see,
you leave 'em waitin for—"
but Benny shoved the pistol into Morrie's face and growled,
"I told you, gimme all the money now!"

July 2nd, 2026

I paint the table in maroon,
and I imagine it is now
Minoan, Mediterranean,
something ancient,
something more than 
what it was before maroon.

July 3rd, 2026

At the park, I wonder at the many ways of water,
floating, flowing,
flooding the soil,
filling up the limbs of trees
and flying on the wings of birds—
life is all expression of the many ways of water.