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a voice crying out in the postmodern wilderness

Those Days Are Gone

I did something a little different for this one. This poem actually started as spoken word and thereafter was written. That’s not my usual m.o. but poetry has special power when spoken and this just kind of came out.

Anyway, here is a video of a reading (and below is the poem in word format, slightly edited as you’ll notice):

Those Days Are Gone

Those days are gone
lazy Saturdays

Pitter patter pulls you
from the pillow

What you didn’t know
was a blanket

Those days are gone

Now you roll around 
in responsibility:

mortgages, wiping
humans and counters

You will never again 
rest easy — don’t bother

Actually, check that —
days will come

Days will come when
you lie in a quiet home

No pitter patter or 
demands

More order and less
orders

Stay in bed all day and 
no one would care

You’ll rue those days
on your soft bed

Wish for sleeplessness and
less you time

Those days are gone
some day —

the worn thin ones and 
their quiet predecessors

Time is not remote-controlled
and we cannot adjust it 

All days are gone
except this one.

I Hoped to Burn This Lent

Dear Keychain Multitool