Dig Ed's poetry

Ed's had some poems published online recently at a site called Four and Twenty (referring to the site's requirement that the poetry be four lines or less and have fewer than 20 words). He's has a poem in their July journal (available for pdf download) and has also had a poem selected to be featured as the poem of the week August 4th .

Go read and enjoy.

Day 29

Hike Coo
April 29, 2009

step slow and steady
across the uneven trail;
the chasm is steep

let the birdsong guide
you skyward, from earth and rock
to tree limb and sun

do not follow the
path too narrowly; you
might miss the journey

Heart. Wink.

birthday gifts
april 28, 2009

i will take the smell
of raindamp concrete
on an april afternoon
and tuck it in your pocket
to carry you through
the driest days of summer.

i will bottle the
essence of lightning,
and dab it daintily
behind each of your ears;
your perfume will draw
honeybees and butterflies.

and when i string
a necklace the color
of young leaves against
thunderclouds, i will
kiss the nape of your neck
as i seal the clasp.

Day 27

fretful
april 27, 2009

my guitar stands
in her black case,
mummified

tonight

my fingers fret
the low tones of
obligation

Day 26

5:36 am
April 26, 2009

This moment,
this dreamwashed
moment,
is precious;
it will never
come this way
again, and it is
already slipping past.

Day 27, by Wrigley

A week later: different weather, similar theme.

The Rain and Plants
April 27, 2009

When the rain falls down,
the plants "juicy" up the water
and are very excited.
An occasional car passes by
and sprays up mists of water
for the plants to suck up.
Oh, yes. Oh, yes.
Everything is at peace in the world
when the rain falls down.

Day 21, By Wrigley

Sorry this is out of order. Don't know how I missed it.

When the Leaves Rustle
April 21, 2009

Oh, oh!
When the leaves rustle
in the warm evening breeze
everything seems at peace.
The birds tweet to announce
the evening and the setting of the sun.
On the warm summer evening
with the bugs crawling
and the birds tweeting
to announce the evening
and the setting of the sun,
oh, oh!
It's all at peace
when the leaves rustle
in the warm evening breeze.

Day 25

I don't know if this poem has the opposite theme of yesterday's or the same. Huh.

To Teach
April 25, 2009

To teach
is to live
in constant
amazement
at the
wisdom
and infinity
of youth.

Day 24, by Wrigley

I Wonder What it Would be Like
April 24, 2009

I wonder what it would be like
to be a story,
Just sitting there in the air,
waiting to be told.
I just wonder,
wonder,
what it would be like
to be a story.

Day 24 - Back in the Groove!

So They Closed the School Today
April 24, 2009

They closed the school today,
so instead of attending PE
the kids rode their bikes
to the top of the hill
or skateboarded across
a parking lot; they played
basketball in the park
instead of the gym.

They closed the school today,
so instead of practicing math
the kids counted their coins
and ran for the border.
Instead of sitting through English
they read menus at fast food joints
and magazines about 4x4’s.
They read Twilight. Again.

They closed the school today,
so instead of learning social skills
the kids squabbled with their siblings,
and had dinner with their parents.
They spent an hour by themselves,
feeling the earth spin on its axis,
watching clouds scroll across the sky,
and wondering where they will find
the time to learn to be.

Day 23

After 52 consecutive April days (hey, I'm an English teacher), I failed to write a poem today.

It was a nice day anyways.

Just Playin' Around With Sounds

Merry Ex-Mess
April 22, 2009

Vexed. Hexed.
Perplexed.

I failed the test
when the subtext
sunk my text.
Without context,
you can’t expect
to guess
the extent
of this mess.
You must accept,
without pretext,
I’m doing my best.

I suspect
it will all reset
with a little rest.
Yes,
I guess,
a little rest
will ease my stress.

Day 21

ready
april 21, 2009

with nimble fingers
and wide eyes,
gently unwrap
each new moment,
cherish it an
open palm,
and let time
whisk it away,
leaving your
fingers eager and
your eyes wide,
ready.

Day 20

Callus
April 20, 2009

a little bump
on the middle finger
of my left hand

hard and dry

from the
daily press
of poetry,
paper grades,
and shopping lists.

and all four
fingertips
of my right hand,

thick and flat

from the
daily press
of metal strings
of an off-key
guitar.

what relief, then,
that the chambers
of my heart
remain tender,
vulnerable,
and true,

from the
daily press
of you.

Day 17

Writer’s Block Blues
April 17, 2009

A block ain’t nothin’ but the word you cannot find.
No, a block ain’t nothin’ but the word you cannot find.
You can search with hounds and flashlights, but that word done left your mind.

A block ain’t nothin’ but cinder holdin’ up a wheel.
You know a block ain’t nothin’ but cinder holdin’ up a wheel.
You put four blocks together, baby, I got a heart you cannot steal.

A block ain’t nothin’ but six letters and six squares.
That ol’ alphabet block ain’t nothin’ but six letters and six squares.
And if you won’t spell my name with those letters, baby, who cares?

A block ain’t nothin’ but a spot in a city,
No, a block ain’t nothing but a spot in this lonely ol’ city,
And if we can’t find that spot together, baby, what a pity.

A block ain’t nothin’ but the word you cannot find,
Like I told you, a block ain’t nothin’ but the words I cannot find,
And since you done left me, baby, all my words been left behind.

Yeah, since you done left me, baby, all my words have been left behind.

Day 19

Between Meant and Meaning
April 19, 2009

The poem I meant to write
had perfect rhyme and perfect meter,
her form as solid as
ancient architecture,
a monument crafted
to withstand the shifting
sands of taste and temperament.

The poem I meant to write
drew her music from the stars:
lovelier than a Grecian urn,
finer than a leaf of grass,
more dependable than a red wheelbarrow.

The poem I meant to write
would have wrighted heroic ships
in heroic couplets,
righted unrequited love in ironic couples,
and read from right to left
just to be experimental.

Such big dreams
for such a little poem,
such lofty ambitions
for a scrap of verse;
so much uncharted
territory between
meant and meaning.

Day 18

before saturday starts
april 18, 2009

in sixty minutes,
the world will
wake up;
the sun will climb,
the fog, burn off;
birds will begin
their songs.

in sixty minutes,
saturday will start;
people will walk
their dogs, or climb
aboard their bikes,
or stand in line
for breakfast.

and in sixty minutes,
this empty street
will fill with cars,
pedestrians,
the chatter of
neighbors and the
jangle of music
in backyards.

in sixty minutes,
the second hand
will sweep away
this silence,
so i’ll listen
to the morning
while I can.

Day 16

Getting to Work
April 16, 2009

The clock in the kitchen
is two minutes ahead of the
one on the wall
and five minutes behind
the digital on my dashboard.

The porch thermometer
reads four degrees cooler
than the bank on 39th
and three degrees warmer
than the pawnshop on 82nd.

The gas gauge hasn’t worked
in years, so I try to keep
my karma running smoothly:
one eye on the low fuel light
and both fingers crossed.

It’s seventeen miles from my
driveway to the school
parking lot; the shortcut:
two miles shorter, ten minutes longer,
a thousand leaves lovelier.

I always arrive on time,
whatever time I happen to arrive.
My secret, you see, is not
to be accurate, it’s to know
precisely how inaccurate I am.

Day 15

This Work We Do
April 15, 2009

This work we do is Holy:
etching words into air,
sketching the outlines
of moments in amber,
wrapping our days
in the ribbon of verse.

What greater Gift
can we give?

By Wrigley, Day 20

Wish Wish Wish
April 20, 2009

I wish that wish
that everyone found
the wish to fly
or sink into the ground.
I wish that wish
that everyone found
to have a pet to do a thing
I wish that wish
that everyone is sharing.