Our Daily Shower
Give us this day our daily tabula rasa,
I ask, having shat and shaved
and about to step into the shower.
Wipe the slate clean,
give us a second chance,
a third, a fourth, a tenth, a millionth.
Give us a fresh start.
Our Daily Haunt
Give us this day our daily ghost,
or maybe it's only a memory assault,
a guerrilla attack from the irreversible past,
our old friend regret clogging up the gutters,
forcing a disturbance up the pipes.
It’s as if I’m summoning tigers from the air
and watching them disappear again,
beings from nowhere accusing me
of coming up short, missing the mark.
Our Daily Meaning
“Give us this day our daily word.”
From the backseat
a voice speaks.
“Daddy, what's desolate?”
I know intuitively
by now. But
how to explain it with other words?
If you have any thoughts about these poems, J.C. Rammelkamp would
be pleased to hear them