Jody Azzouni


Nothing New

Origfinally published in Portland Review 56:1 Spring/Summer, 2009.
Added 8/10/2020
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Nothing New

Poem | Jody's Notes


Each dawn is somber,

not in itself, but by virtue

of repetition, its tight fit

in a temporal band of clones.

You would think it couldn’t go on

this way, that everything would

yawn to a stop, but it doesn’t—

pink, then yellow, then black and

over and over again like

a factory. Most things

strike me dumb like flowers

and insects, but I yell

each morning when this happens,

coin new words just to show

I’m different. I yell and

yell again before the echo

has a chance to fade. Anything

at all as long as I haven’t said

it before.