Poem of the Day 02.09.09

trying not to write a poem

i go online
in this modern world
intent not to write a poem
checking my blog roll
looking at places where basho rested
in old japan
i learn that i missed
bill burrough’s birthday yesterday
due to all day meetings
and the cold.
i am not trying to write
a poem here, you see,
but instead am wondering
when it is too early
to have a drink of red wine.
i don’t want to get drunk
just have a little something
to take off the edge
to warm the stomach
and hands and feet.
ah, this winter has been
so miserable and long
that i checked the branches
on the small oak trees
lining bay ridge parkway
trying to find one single bud
but there were none.
and this is not a poem
even though it is written
and laid out like one.
i might even read it to you sometime
if you can catch me in the right mood
maybe when the weather is nice
and the wine is flowing
and there is some green for us to share.
i will read you this
and you will think it’s a poem
even though it is not.
and hopefully after that we’ll sit quietly
and let whatever music that exists
between us play on and on
like a favorite symphony
or radio song you just want to hear
one more time.