Tuesday, November 1, 2011



To begin the eleventh month
with a poem on procrastination
some 13 days after the fact,
November's poetry roll booty call
expressed in prime numbers
and how I'm late —always running
late for a very important date
but I was distracted by a murmuration
of starlings which led to a long blog
that spanned the bridge of time itself
like a black river of birds in the sky
followed by the poem nearly lost
but somehow, amidst all these fragments
something was saved.
Perhaps the flutter of birdwings 
in an abandoned house,
that thump against the glass—
a fallen bird, or a poem 
frightened to death before its begun.
I'll get to it eventually
but for now, this will have to do.


Robert Lee Brewer: Write a procrastination poem, or as I like to call it a “I’ll get to it tomorrow” poem. Or…
Write a proactive poem, or the old “I’ll get to it today” poem.

Molly Fisk: Nov 1 prompt: Always running late...

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