You cannot be the cause of the problem
and seek reward for being its solution.

this orange turd will never soar…

fools know not how to solve
moon dust equations — Elites!, they cry.
these misguided “patriots” cannot exclaim
both joy & hatred, community & vitriol.

it does not compute!!

how do they think we’ll ever get
to where it is we want to go? have they
given any thought, any consideration
to our happily ever after?

People!!

It has to be a collective ‘our’,
a collective ‘ever after’.

Why can’t — or won’t — they see that?

Serrated leaves of brethren black-cherry trees
wave to me outside our sunroom windows.
Empty wire-mesh feeders sway
in the muggy almost-autumn breeze.

Sluglike, I cross to the mailbox,
COVID-gloves in hand.
Wasted effort: Political flyers
for a candidate I’d never, ever vote for.

Didn’t I read somewhere
that September’s segue to fall
dictates longer sleeves,
cooler nights, solid shoes?

My sugar-self craves a hot cuppa chai
but not when The Weather Channel
tells me what I already know — we’re dying here
in this ninety-degree muck, reprieve not yet our due.

Predictably, others will soon
protest winter’s snowfall, her howling winds,
those frigid blasts of icy, northern air.

                       But I won’t…

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve picked up a book or two on Blackout Poetry at Barnes & Noble or other bookstores but always figured it just wasn’t my thing.

Until now…

Unable to sleep in the wee hours of the morning, I got out of bed, tore out a page from a book I’m currently altering for collage art and created my very first Blackout Poem. It was fun! I’ll definitely try this again. 🙂