Like September 18

If I were to write a book of poems

one for every day  titles could be

dates like September 18 and while the poems

don’t have to describe the day necessarily

(maybe Netanyahu didn’t win.  We are driving

to the pot store.  Late this afternoon I’ll

take another piano lesson.  We are still in the country

and these last days this one too inconceivable

and I don’t know the words for this light. Though I try)

I could, if I wanted, describe this day

or make one up (we will drive to the Adirondacks

because it is beautiful and then,

maybe we will climb.)

Esther Cohen
Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me. I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.

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