#it's 1800 poems that's a lot of poems i'm not going through to figure out where i lost count at this point
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1836.
greeted home tonight by fireworks above the pines, the whine of bottlerockets and somewhere the yapping of a small dog deeply unhappy the borderline between one year and the next nothing more than a few hours of darkness and the same streets waiting to find you in the morning
#365#poetry#what's funny is that i swear to you that i have been writing one poem a day now for a number of years#i don't feel like doing division but there are years and there's a number it's definitely more than one#but i know damn well that if i did the math it would not at all divide nicely into a good number of years#like it's off by some strange number of poems#and i could dig and dig and never tell you how it happened#it's 1800 poems that's a lot of poems i'm not going through to figure out where i lost count at this point#but yeah i do think about that sometimes actually
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