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TGR, Gutenberg, Rubric

March 2015



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TGR, Gutenberg, Rubric

April PAD -- Day 6

Today's prompt involves recording all the details of your day and generating a poem from that material. To make the poem interesting, you probably do NOT want to just list out everything from the beginning of the day to the end. But then again, you could prove me wrong on that--list poems can be very effective and engaging when done right.

Yeah. Well, this weekend was a bit of a fog. You know the kind where doing the same thing for hours was punctuated by a trip to get a cup of coffee. Editing the damn plan of record for a new product line. Let's see.


Slept in, but seven o'clock still came too early.
Coffee and comics punctuated with a breeze through the five-star Sudoku.
Then to work.
I am one with the computer--a ninja editor.
I will turn this marketing blather to meaningful English.
There is no verb form of advantage.
Nor of incentive.
In English we don't capitalize every noun.

Let's take a break and have some fun at Home Depot!
We need to get the house ready to sell!
Decking at $1.39 a linear foot. Maybe I should do a stone patio instead.
Why are we making our house a better place to live in order to sell it
when we didn't do it to live in it?
Little tiff.

Back to work while the darling wife sleeps off the rigors of "Designing to Sell."
Why is every sentence an entire paragraph long?
Can't I put a period in here someplace?

"Life is a Cabaret old chum. Come to the Cabaret!"
Speed shop or we won't have food for breakfast.
Back to work while family gracefully retires to bed.
Did I already edit this chapter?
It sounds exactly like chapter fourteen.
How long is this document? Thirty-six chapters?

Too tired to work, too wound up to sleep.
1983 action/sexploitation movie.
All these ex-Playboy bunnies are as old as I am now!
Barely an eye-open for the grim look of determination
on a naked spy killing her lover.
Too sad to stay awake.
One o'clock and I crawl -- cold and tired -- into bed.
Two o'clock before I close my eyes.



great poem