Daily Poems for 2025

Rockets

Rockets

Rockets

Rockets

Rockets

The Rocket Mob goons 
came calling,
thrusters tapping
on the bodega counter.

“Nice gravity well
you got here.
Sure would be a shame
if something
happened
to it.”

Engines revved,
and the desperate victims
paid
all they could
to keep from being
boosted.

32/365


Rockets

The AI rendered the poem as a pair of astronauts at a corner store with encroaching flames and smoke.