Life Immense

A dad chews
Staring past trees
Long slow bites

Kids explore
Beyond the picnic table
Volleying questions

He sits and chews
They call and laugh
A soundless loop

-T. Weeks

I was born inside
This thing I cannot see

Under me earth crinkles
I twirl my turret
The way harmless things do
Jiggle my heavy cannon
Playful and silly

Laughter goes to dust
Slow motion eternity
Calm as calamity
No one else is playing

I know what I am
Expressions say it all

I roll on
Relief pools in my tracks

-T. Weeks

On the wall
In this bathroom
There’s an ashtray
Wouldn’t be so weird
If I wasn’t on an airplane
How old is this thing?
Wikipedia says…
At least 30 years!?
Oh god
We’re all going to die

Update: we lived

-T. Weeks

There once was a bus driver
Who loved the loud speaker
A block from the stop
She would start
Talking at the people
While they waited on the curb
None of it made sense
None of it was necessary
Semi-automatic instructions
Punctuated with good mornings
mams and sirs
and I need you tos
She was a stage coach driver
We were her horses
Loved and lashed
In the same whip-crack breath

-T. Weeks

Chainsaws flirting in the forest
Early on a Saturday
Chewing with their mouths open
Laughing and spitting
Spraying crumbs
Clunk clunk romance
Oblivious to the neighbors

-T. Weeks

Decisive
Irreverent
Irregular
Arched
Reaching
Twisting
Unrecognizable
Unmistakable
Confident
Colorful

A word
A cypher
Art

I love these letters

-T. Weeks

What are the pilots doing up there?
Does the computer do ALL the work?
Or just most of it?
Are they just pretending to steer?
Imagining dog fights
Pew-pewing the bad guys?
Maybe they’re watching movies
About plane crashes
You know, to freak each other out
And give nervous glances
When the air gets bumpy
Well whatever it is they’re doing
They’re doing a good job
Cuz the bad guys didn’t get us
And no one died
Thank you Captain[s]

-T. Weeks

Next time you’re on a long flight
And you’re on your way to the restroom
Find a person asleep in their seat
Head flopped back mouth hanging open
And poke a finger in as you walk by
Not all the way to the back of the throat
That would be weird
Just poke them on the tongue
They’ll never see it coming
When you get back to your seat
Smile
You’re an artist
Your work is a moment
A mystery that will never be solved
“Why would someone poke my tongue?”
They’ll wonder out loud for the rest of their life
Making their friends laugh and wonder too
“Why WOULD someone do that?”
Those friends will ask their friends
As the mystery grows
Moments almost never survive the day
But yours will
It’ll outlast every movie they saw this year
Every song they listened to
Every accomplishment at work
And maybe even you
Steven Spielberg can’t compete with that
This is your chance
Don’t waste it
Legacies don’t happen on their own

-T. Weeks

There’s a chipmunk in the house
Cat’s trophy on the lam
Wild cartwheels
Behind the bookshelf
Into the bedroom
Into the bathroom
Back into the bedroom
Racing maze of bizarre geometries
Alien gallery of smells and noises
No branches or shadows or dirt
Nothing to climb
Nothing until it’s out
Out the sliding glass door
Out of the light
Adrenaline bleeding
From the place the cat bit
Closing its eyes
Not a right angle in sight
Safe

-T. Weeks

Elder flower
Rose hip
Hip hop
Street art
Street tacos
Pineapple sage
Blueberry
Gluten free
Farmer’s market
Radish kimchi
Drum and bass
Catalonia
Cat barf
Curly hair
Night shade

-T. Weeks