Tomorrow

​Sometime tomorrow, less than twenty-four hours from now, I will summons together a poem representing the 365th day of this long poem-a-day episode. I remember starting in the middle of the month out of fear that the crazy idea would slip away from me if I had to sit on it and wait another half month to officially begin. I remember the sensing that the ease of those first few weeks would not last, knowing the coming desert of ideas and energy would test me. I remember think: Half a year’s good enough, isn’t it? I remember wondering if even a single poem from the entire experience would be a good poem. I remember sometime along the way losing some self-judgement and better realizing that what I considered good, and good for me, usually didn’t have to match up to anyone else’s vision. I remember hearing my own voice, clearer and clearer, losing it, then hearing it again, over and over. I remember leaning on others to get through this.  
 
One Last Thought:
 
I don’t know if I’m able
to turn off this new habit.
What was once a clumsy chore
is a mostly working limb now
only I can see, reaching out
from the body,
                        like an alien
sensory organ only something
as alien as poetry could have
nourished from nothing:
 
Combining sight and smell
and a portion of spirit, empty
elements when alone, curious
and jetting out away from the self
when comingled, conjoined,
newly fabled creatures,
one hearing the other’s babble
about other worlds interpreted.