The Office

By on Aug 20, 2023 in Poetry

Office window looking out on garden

The context of this room with its
one window, desk and bookshelves,
cheap art, is suddenly stifling.
The beautifully parallel horizontal blue lines
on white legal, and me staring left to right,

knowing that the ink when it meets
the resistance of the page
will feel introverted, compressed,
not at liberty to jump, the two skinny,
vertical red lines to get past the margin.

Perhaps a better milieu, a hill looking out
on an open field of poppies or high corn,
sitting under an oak stretching toward the sun,
acorns falling, and white clouds,
moving steadily across blue velvet.

Or the deck of a ship at night,
the middle of the ocean, stars,
sparkling white dots on endless,
black night, above grey waves,
moving infinitely to the horizon.

More unconstrained, maybe even large,
flowing font, or freewheeling cursive,
but still and all, miniscule,
meaningless, same block,
same as in the office.


Craig thinks of poetry as hobo art. He loves storytelling and the aesthetics of the paper and pen. He was nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize, and has a book of poetry, Roomful of Navels. After a writing hiatus, he was recently published in Decadent Review, New World Writing, Skinny, Neologism and has work forthcoming in Ginosko, Your Impossible Voice, Quail Bell, The Globe Review, Unlikely Stories and The Light Ekphrastic.