I hosted my first online open mic earlier tonight for Living Poetry. I think it went reasonably well. We had ten readers which is bigger than some in-person open mics I’ve attended. I read Nineteen Crows, Our Nocturne and Tiger King.

Let’s write a tired poem.

End of Day

The clock is about to roll over
like my Honda’s odometer
and I still haven’t written
tonight’s poem.

Some nights the words flow
like a babbling brook.
On others they’re only found
halfway down a glass of red.

But after a long day at the office,
they’re stuck like the last dregs
of ketchup and I lack the knife
and the stamina to scrape them out.

It’s nearly midnight.
Just post what you got.