“An Unrehearsed Poem” by M received this evening in a swap at the Swap-O-Matic at Ample Hills Creamery.

I’m fascinated by this project’s purpose and social commentary, and even found myself weighing the options of what I wanted to take through the lens of what it would say about and mean to me. (If I take the dollar bill in door 12 and leave something of less monetary value, is that uncool? If I take a honeycomb-shaped bead, will I enjoy it as much as someone who makes hemp necklaces? If I take the gaudy tshirt, will defacing it into a rag feel ethical?) I wanted to just give, because it felt excessive to take (especially when I was so unsure), but to give I had to take (aka swap) since all of the doors were full (I wonder, are they usually?), and since I wanted to participate, I went for the swap and left a lucky penny (with label). I also learned in reading the poem aloud to my friend that it was authored by Max, the creme de la creme ice cream scooper with a knack for poetry and conversation.

I support this project and I support good ice cream. Go check both out.

I like the man-smell of a hardware store:
odors of old leather,
fresh cut lumber, oiled machines,
limey smell of plaster and new paint.

I like the men who come to hardware stores,
men with calloused hands
in dirty jeans and sweaty shirts,
men who work.

I remember times we came together
for shingles and to re-roof the shed,
cement for the outdoor barbecue,
bricks for the patio.

Now I come alone and pause a moment
just inside the door.
Almost I see you there
beyond the ray of dust motes in the aisle.

So strong the sense of deja vu
I have to catch my breath
As if these old familiar smells
could bring you back from death.

An untitled, unattributed poem hanging in the back of Moody’s Hardware Store in Montgomery, Alabama. The poem and story of Moody’s was really a gem to stumble upon, because Boston Hardware in Uncasville, Connecticut was our family’s pride for more than 40 years.

It’s amazing what gifts small-scale blogs by everyday folks like us can bring in unexpected ways.

I wrote a poem (?)

Don’t know if any of you faithful readers remember way back earlier this summer when a friend was looking for other friends to write a poem, but I finally did it. And I kind of like it. So, I now (with extreme trepidation) share it with you.

Untitled (right?)

i don’t know exactly what a poem is
how is this any different from just jotting myself a note
or writing a super simple paragraph?


i love how people are everywhere and build my world
whether i know it or not
and that friends are people in it, who do even more
they inspire, excite, engage, challenge, humor, and support me
whether they know it or not.
so in this really hypersensitive yet unaware world
where unintentional insincerity poses as sincerity
and gchats can be started and x-ed out so easily but define relationships
and charity abounds but effective solutions are elusive
and incredibly crafted products come at a price often unknown in its entirety
i stay grounded by faith in the relationships i may know or not know
that i have
and all that is bound and shaped by them.

i think poems let me ramble without necessary punctuation! so that’s excellent

Help me write a poem. Nifty cause.

A very dear friend of mine had a super unique idea to collect poems from her friends for her 25th birthday. We were given free reign; it can be “your favorite, an original, something silly or sweet, meaningful or obscene – whatever you feel”. I like it, especially because we’re thousands of miles away and it’s a great way to feel connected, but I just don’t know what to do with it.

I’d like help. Send me your suggestions of something to write, and I may just turn it into a poem, or combine it with other suggestions and make a meta poem. This has potential. Reblog/retweet/link to your people if possible…. if this can grow with your help, I (and ultimately my pal) will be quite content.