Poems are everywhere, free for the taking. Yet they are worth so much. I was reminded of this the other day, when an Every Day Poems subscriber contacted me to say, “I love this poem. It awakens places and people in me. Not yet discovered. Waiting.”
For those who participated in our 99¢ Writing Project, the biggest cost seemed to be time, permission to be curious, and a willingness to write about humble things. The poems were wonderful, and I had the darndest time choosing one for feature.
Now they come at four dimes
and four pennies apiece
in neat sheets, like pages
out of a history volume boasting
of our own, our own brush strokes
and space probes and man around the globe.
They come like syncopated
rhythms of modern bards’ music,
lively bits of conversation
between strings and brass brought
from a mix of New Orleans and Africa
and isles nearby, improvised and styled.
They come like a billboard
listing simple steps saying
how to save the earth and go green.
They come separated by wavy lines
to simulate the old perforations,
like a monument remembering
the way they used to be.
They always come in Love.
I’ve received them that way
and that is how I send them,
a letter on paper, ink from a pen
guided by my own hand
All RAP Participants
Monica’s Priceless Correspondence
Violet’s Regular Please (will also be featured in Every Day Poems )
Megan’s 99¢ x 17 (in which she buys something dear to my heart )
Sandra’s Ode to Yogurt (in which she continues an inside Twitter joke about being cultured, and makes me laugh)
Heather’s 99¢ Poem (in which she makes me catch my breath)