Thoughts of Nothing

In the dead of night

when my eyes are heavy

yet open,

I think–

not as Descartes

or as anxious philosophers,

nor the poets or painters

with brushstrokes

of black and black

upon the conscience’s easel.

I think of thinking

in a roundabout way,

a simple machine whirring

within every muscle

of the brain,

trying to compute itself

without ever computing it.



The list of chores grows longer

and the work is adding on,

each day seems like a chance until

I find that it is gone.

I understand they must be done,

that is my sole intention–

but is is was when I see you

and lose that comprehension








Speaking of housecleaning, I forgot to post the “inspiration” for the two poems on the “Where They’ve Been” post. There are a lot of versions of the song on YouTube. I remember hearing Joni James singing it when I was younger. So here’s that version:




And for kicks and giggles, I found an actual compilation of some of the Looney Tunes cartoons that used the “bomb” gag. Here’s that:


The Ailment and the Remedy

I always thought that it would be easy

to run out of words

to convey a single theme,

a single idea,

a single person from

the endless crowds.

I thought it would be easy

and I thought that I’d forget you.

I thought a lot

but it was nothing at all

while the subjects spoke freely

without my help.

I thought it would be easy to stop

yet I can’t seem to separate

the pen from the paper

even when–or even especially when–

I want to.

Good or bad, come what may . . .

I write


Where They’ve Been

I knew that I loved you–

no question of when . . .

like when you were dancing

with words through your pen,

when the paper lit up

like flames with no fire,

when the smokeless smoke rose

yet even higher,

when the clouds formed above

through smoke and through haze,

when the words came back down

completely unfazed,

when I saw them dancing

back home once again,

and you looked happy

when beaming your grin . . .

I knew that I loved you–

no question of when–

even though they’re just words

you know where they’ve been






I’m posting this here because both were inspired by the same song. I usually write specific inspirations in the tags but if I’ll give non-existent points fo you if you can guess it.

Hint 1: it’s an older song.

Hint 2: it destroyed a few pianos on the Looney Tunes 😄



Forty dollars of quarters–

held tight and warmed

by the grip

of unsteady hands–

sure goes fast at the payphone,

those miles and miles

between us

seeming more and more

with the dollar-fifty apologies

at every stop and depot.

Here’s another dollar-fifty,

another six quarters,

the cupronickel warmer

than the cold shoulder

back home.


The Unspoken Agreement

I have never seen

a rabbit lying down–

not in the wild, anyway.

When they’re caged

and domesticated,

they’ll take a load off, sure,

either trusting whoever has them

or from sheer desperation.

Their eyes are like marbles

that don’t tell much

even if you were to look

long enough.

Why would you? Why would I?

I sit out on the porch

most nights

to unwind from the day.

These days I see rabbits

out there, lying in the grass,

eyes in my direction

but bodies still planted

on the ground.

I should probably chase them away

yet, yet . . .

I have never seen

so many rabbits lying down







Hey y’all. I didn’t plan on posting today but I’m literally just watching rabbits in the yard right now (it might be a slow night, lol.)

And now for a shameless plug:

If you haven’t already done so, feel free to check out the Unnecessary Podcast. My good friend Clint (also co-contributor on this site) hosts it (and I tag along to make an ass of myself 😉) We’re going to incorporate some poetry at some point so if you would like to read something on there (pre-recorded or otherwise) or have something read (likely by Clint), feel free to drop a line on the contact page or send me an email at cdanders91@gmail.com .

Hope y’all have a more exciting Friday night than me and these long-earred fiends😄 God bless! –the real C. D.


No One, P.O. Box: Somewhere

The box’s flag was now put down

so I rushed to get the mail,

I did not expect anything

since that’s all that came, no fail.

It was too soon and still I thought

there might be something in there

for I had mailed a letter to

No One

P.O. Box: Somewhere

To my surprise there was a note

there in that box most empty,

a letter–no return address–

with angry words aplenty.

“Do not reply, you callous fool,

rip this up like you agreed.

You will know it when you’re here

so don’t ruin it for me.”

That’s all he wrote within the note

but the story won’t end there,

I’ll write to future me again:

No One

P.O. Box: Somewhere


Forever Young

Just another song

with another story

that I try to forget,

a song I’ve heard

a thousand times before

and a thousand times


but sometimes

I hear him sing

those words again,

when they sneak through

the FM waves,

and I smile at

the fading memories

I have of you