Sunday, in our culture, is a day of rest.  It is the Protestant appropriation of the Sabbath, and as such has often come into conflict with the ever-growing Humanism that is the natural child of Protestantism.  The Sabbath was instituted by God to inform Man of his need for physical rest and inward reflection.  For me, Sunday is the beginning of the workweek, the day when I have to stick my nose back in the books; it is the end of my week-end.
 What I have tried to synthesize here is the dichotomy that exists between those two ideas.  The self-improvement side of this project is informed by my return to labour, while the self-expression side is coloured by my need to explore the means and ends of language: what it is, what it does, and how I use it.  My use of the title phrase is deliberate because it has a socially marked meaning. It comments on how long work is, but also on how lasting spiritual gratification can be.

I never completely understand what I’ve written until the ink is dry.  I enjoy writing when inspired.   Usually inspiration takes the form of a particularly salient concept condensed into a pithy group of words---my grain of sand. In the process of writing, I feel a lot like Wordsworth’s Eolian Harp; I am played by my emotions and subconscious, merely and instrument to effect their translation.
 Unfortunately, this style dominates in every type of writing I undertake, resulting sometimes in inflated pieces of chicanery instead of academic prose.  When I learned about Poetry.com’s daily poetry contest I undertook to use it as a tool to discipline my writing skills somewhat. I have tried to maintain what I believe to be the most aesthetic feature of my other poetry, imagery, but to distill the essence of the poem into as few words as possible.  (The contest requires poems submitted to be twenty “words”  or less in length.) In addition, the subject material for each poem is largely dictated by the selection made available each day, although some words appear more often than others . Usually there are about 200 “words” to choose from.  In reproducing the poems here I have tried to be faithful to the way in which the poems were submitted.

01 February 2000

friday We heavenists crossed elsewhere
the tingling interference beyond touch
reward
 
 
 
 

02 February 2000

a cairn birthing silky moss
I laugh
it remotely
threatening to bury Ed
 
 
 
 

04 February 2000

 sunday
my head is
 leaking
talked
found
we are
Human
 
 
 
 

05 February 2000

monday
to think
a laugh so delicious
I will be
alive again for years
 
 
 
 

06 February 2000

singing
day's dreams
far into the night
Till the cliffs
awaken
laugh at my
onslaught
 
 
 
 

07 February 2000

we are
bloated
between childhoods

remember
to cut punctures
in the oceans of ourselves
 
 
 
 

08 February 2000

painted love

I meant to
declare my contempt
For the legions
of spirits so adorned
When
I am
 
 
 
 
 

09 February 2000

whispered memories of Wanting
I may be
someone yet
 
 
 
 
 

Reject

sitting cross-legged
on the carpet
Thinking soft thoughts
softly feeling
soft
how hard it is
without you here
 
 
 
 

10 February 2000

breathe>
  surely I am
    better than
 nothing
   that *Lie* is old

    ex-hale
 
 
 
 

Reject

~sipping~
coffee like Wine
your smile
traverses
*Light* more like smoke
 
 
 
 

11 February 2000

certain streams flow biting
through the mind
then desire rosined by will
comes gelid
 
 
 
 

12 February 2000

if But cathedral
a bed
and altar
of skin
this
soul consumed
tongue of fire
 
 
 
 
 

13 February 2000

sea meadow lingers on in Afternoon
rocking creaking
While summer dust sighs
Yawning stretching
to end rippling play
 
 
 
 

14 February 2000

donquixote Bees
 play at challenging
  my bouquet windmill
 
 
 
 

15 February 2000

these fingers hold Aspirations
plaited into sinew
melody woven into muscle

but hesitations found desire
 stony
 
 
 
 

16 February 2000

week-ends with Ash
were nice laughing in love
or picked apart
 
 
 
 

17 February 2000

Nous Les dans las mains sans trembler
Pour vous parfum vitale De las mains
 
 
 
 

18 February 2000

summer's warmth dressed trees
are frozen
sunshine's bright Stripping rays

delicious breezes warm in leaving
 
 
 
 

19 February 2000

To wait
staying awake
patiently sane seems best
 I thought to no One In particular
 
 
 
 

21 February 2000

Her rare symbols of poetry
iridescent and Fragile
as yellow and magenta
sky sculpture
 
 
 
 

22 February 2000

disturbing gift of
nature embroidered desire
spent on magenta
wings
exquisitely spreading
On the grass
 
 
 
 

23 February 2000

because next to you
angels dreams are fallen
what missignificance
understand
understand
strength is contagious
 
 
 
 

24 February 2000

woke to sudden chill
grasped by certain knowledge
of ending
 
 
 
 

25 February 2000

sitting this near
grace
and not dancing
makes God laugh

embrace wisdom
 
 
 
 

26 February 2000

heaven waits
patiently Still
lest It interfere
with Your changes of
planets And stars InTo rain
 
 
 
 

27 February 2000

night shrinks
leaves my soul
pinned
Prometheus Like
fire Consumed
ravens Food
 
 
 
 

28 February 2000

years pass
and still
your laugh
draws This
heart
To love
 
 
 
 

29 February 2000

New pages
lie open to my grandchildren
their notes will
pontificate on
mended roses