Park Poetry

Recently, I wrote a column on Fierce and Nerdy examining how a deadline will help work get completed.  Following that pondering, I decided to give myself a project, which is just an extended deadline, of going outside and writing one short poem every day, for at least the next month. Hopefully a few of them will be funny.

After working on a memoir and now a piece of novel length fiction, I miss writing poems. I miss the concise and precise language. So in the interest of concisity (which apparently isn't a word even though Noam Chomsky uses it a LOT), here is my first poem.

The Orange Hand

I used to walk, even
when the hand said
"Don't"

because

that collection of orange light
bulbs couldn't tell me
what to do

But now - I stop

regardless of empty
streets or anxious
companions

because

It's nice to have
permission to stay
still