Poem a Day 2026

i want to write a poem to fuck up all the other poems all the times i tried to make a sour sponge clean all the times i tried to prove my levitation when i really wanted to watch tv and rub aggravating dirt in concentric circles deep into my pours

i want to write the punches that keep coming in the movies when the fists keeps bashing you think it’s going to stop but the fists keep bashing the bones and how do they even keep going the scene gets wetter and from within the turtleneck weave only sound and cuts of light but they give a good enough idea

the poem in the dip of the hills behind your parent's village where i first saw my old face but the golden grass lit up my eyes looking into themselves and i knew back at the patio you were realizing you didn't love me like you thought you did

and the poem in my basement apartment, and the poem in the mansions, and the poem in the ball of my foot, and the poem in the sediment of urine and the clots of blood and what freckles say and how the bugs feel about new skin when they first land 

and the alarm set to sound like a gong who did that when the view is 

construction

i wonder what i would think and what i would write if I wasn't always forgetting the poems that land my cheek hugging up the mountain because i saw something on my phone that told me what was happening to me and for that moment it felt wiser than air 

my poor pours 

the kind of skin that asks to die a young fairy or a rotting windfall 

apple

i want to write a poem that mashes the apples almost as good as time 

so they sour the grass and turn to 

wine