Writing? I guess.

I have never, and I mean NEVER, done the thing where you say to the kids you're teaching, "I'm going to do the writing with you this semester."

But lo and behold! yesterday, I heard myself say these very words to the students in the room. 

That's thirteen poems, maybe I can write thirteen poems in fifteen or so weeks? 

I did say on my "GOALS 2014" page that I created with my very own hands, digitally, so, you know, digital hands, where were we? right: I did say on my GOALS 2014 page that I would

so, you know. I guess I'm writing a poem, after I leave you here--you, ghostly reader, whom I sense only from your comments and your Facebook "likes" and your, you know, page hits--after I leave you here, a poem with 

Guy holding two cigarettes in his hand in the elevator, one for him, one for his girlfriend
Every story a ghost story
Murmurous
Cannot use EVER
2 of my less brooding poems
Did my faith exile me or did I exile myself from my faith? What does exile mean? Who are the exiles?

in it, maybe, but definitely

a piece of fruit or vegetable; a window, door, portal; a machine or mechanical device; a famous person, real or fictional (not the 20^th c.); an exotic place; something from science—theory, principle, name, or idea; a means of transportation; a part of the body; an item, saying, event, etc. from another culture; an idea from philosophy or religion or belief system.

because that is the assignment. So I guess I am going to go write a poem. Right...now.