journey toward winter solstice, lost light, weak orb only wins in the morning, by early afternoon the disappearing begins, darkness, a time to hide, in a book, a bed, by a window looking at snowflakes falling, the white ground rising to meet wind and swaying pine trees, howling silence, nature’s portrait of death, the end of something, and now i understand january 1st, i used to always wonder, why not call september the beginning like in judaism? but i get it, the minutes added each day, climbing back into the sun, waiting for spring to heal the earth, but for now we rest.
Cold Water Swimming & Coyotes
swimming centers me, fallen japanese maple leaves sink in water, nestle between my toes, stick to shoulders, i am a leaf magnet, like the man feeding pigeons in central park, the tree likes me, i think, gifts from above, cold water thoughts, staring at stars, nameless constellations, pump arms and legs harder, keep the heart moving blood to numb fingers, i have a rock on pool’s ledge for coyotes, but i would never throw anything, maybe splash or yell, coyotes won’t visit, worries disappear, this is a good night.
Birthday at Kokkari
Fame Addiction
actors, politicians, craving limelight, accolades, the ones who never got enough as children- love, affection, reassurance, the stage is beset with their desperate desire to be cherished, by strangers, friends, anyone, everyone, and often that void can’t be filled, the sly stallone sadness from an abusive father, demi moore & her alcoholic parents, peripatetic, moving her from place to place, bill clinton with stepdad roger, alcoholism and abuse all around his arkansas childhood, so they grab the mic, stare into cameras, give endless speeches, while the spotlight is on, the past is gone, but darkness always returns, they run, but they can never hide.
Being Marianne Moore
pretending to be someone else, they say it’s exhausting, but i guess that all depends, i’m ruling out hunter s. thompson with all that hell’s angels gonzo-journaling, and not raymond carver, chain-smoking to avoid the booze, and i could do without hemingway’s dangerous summer, slurring bullfights with blotchy skin, nay to virginia woolf’s last walk into the river ouse, and maybe the worst, sherwood anderson’s demise by toothpick swallowed, no doubt a martini taking slow revenge, none of the above, but maybe marianne moore, humor-filled poet of the common & uncommon, lover of athletics, teacher at the carlisle indian school, i do these things which i do, which please no one but myself, & to wear a cape and tricorn hat, well, that’s where it’s at!
Why I Don’t Submit To Poetry Journals
i don’t get it, the poetry publishing thing, true, people definitely do read the new yorker, but does anyone really read radon journal? it’s a whole rigamarole, sending out poems with a bio, trying to figure out if the editors are interested, hoping for approval and acceptance, who cares? truly, many people know mary oliver or maya angelou, but do they know li-young lee? he’s an amazing poet, nobody knows him, nobody cares, the word obscure should follow almost anyone who names themself a poet, hi, i’m daniel, (obscure) poet, i watched a video posted in august with an inspiring poet from virginia, she read, she spoke about her life/work, it’s november, the video has like 17 views, obscure, anyway, the point, for me, is to write and self-publish, i need no approval, i think, this is an interesting piece, copy/paste/publish/done.
Sky Trees Earth
Hudson & November Trees
Moody Blues & An Old Flame
i wonder where you are, i wonder if you think about me, once upon a time in your wildest dreams, moody blues 1986, he sent her the song on a cassette in the mail, like a message in a bottle, old & scraped, washed up, on her shore, no one listens to the moody blues anymore, she replied on a postcard, but thanks, 10 years had passed, he never wrote her again
How To Stop Aging
embalm right now, easy answer, but that involves not living anymore, so try again, wake up slowly, whisper, i’m young, i’m young, i’m young, buy a lighted mirror, they take away three years, get a tiktok account, do all the dances, upload your favorites, tell people you are 27, lie, pluck out gray hairs, then dye, continually dye, never let them see your roots, use facial cream in the morning, use facial cream in the evening, never go out in the sun, smile all the time, frowning is for wrinklers, constantly talk about olivia rodrigo, never talk about justin bieber, he failed, he’s old, botox is required, sleep in silk, it keeps your skin timeless, do cardio, then sauna, infrared, never ski, the cold makes lines in your face, never wear glasses, never drink, but if you must, one white claw with a college student, marry someone twenty years younger than you, wear the brands that they wear, ideally only lululemon, don’t forget vinyasa yoga, anything else is for the elderly, drink water, lots of water, drive a jeep wrangler, play your music loud, post everything on instagram, that way you have proof.
Daniel W. Polk 