to the new year, with love
ringing in the new year with another substandard work of art
At the beginning of each year, for the last several years, I write a poem commemorating the changing of the calendar. I don’t make resolutions, I write silly rhymes about my hopes and fears for the next twelve months.
The first time I did it, the pages remained taped on my refrigerator door for about four years, per my wife’s request. I seriously doubt this year’s edition, accompanied by my drawing of the scariest painting I’ve seen, will receive such high honors, but one can dream! Despite my lack of confidence, I’ll still be submitting my work to the committee that oversees the freezer door.
Happy New Year, friends. Let’s make it a good one.
to the new year, with love
leave a part of me unbroken
so that the diggers and dusters
have to do less work
leave me near the surface
so that when the lightning strikes
it'll go through less dirt
better yet, you could leave me alone
in a basket by the river
or on a child-sized throne
you're not saturn
and i'm not your son
no one's gonna make you eat that stone
no gnashing of teeth
no swallowing me whole
sitting your stomach would make me queasy
and i'm not oedipus and you're not my dad freud says we can take it easy no need for the big man bygones are bygones you can stop by for a cup of tea there's time to make amends i'm not yet the old man who's been dragged out to sea i didn't put a coin inside the slot machine i never tried to get my fill you can keep your secrets keep your schedule tight and i'll exchange all my big bills it's okay if you don't understand me when i ask for my sheets to stay clean forget me for a while later we can compare notes and maybe you'll see what i mean i'll stop clinching my fists so tightly if you don't push, i won't shove i'll hang the clocks back on the wall and we can stop going in circles to the new year, with love