Month: March 2016

Prayers and banners
Pageantry and libations
Community gathered
Officials hands raised
Sacrifice witnessed
Faith replenished
A single voice lifted
Their savior praised
GOOOOAAALLLL!

-T. Weeks
(A response to “I Dream’d in a Dream

A spinning molten nickel core
Generates the magnetic field
That drives solar radiation
To dance high in the polar sky.
Squeezed by gravity it burns,
Our subterranean dynamo,
Animating the magma sea.
Voracious continents,
Brooding oceans,
Aristocratic mountains,
All dimples in the ferrous crust,
Fertile exoskeletal flowerbed.

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Earth, My Likeness”)

It’s hard to be mindful when you have to pee,
To be present in this moment with the universe,
While toes wiggle against a struggling bladder.
I see friends, hear laughter, feel the atmosphere.
Five minutes from now all that will be wonderful
Right now, in this moment, distractions all.

-T. Weeks
(A response to “A Leaf for Hand in Hand”)

Fiddle, bow, and banjo
Stomping green ancestral tunes.
Laughing scattered tables smile.
Stories eddy in lingering faces
While thinkers crowd vigilant
Over aspiring silver laptops.
Friends strangers passing
Together in one hearty shop.

-T. Weeks
(A response to “A Glimpse”)

Cracked, root riddled concrete,
Sprinkled with a confetti of insurgents.
Spouts of budding green innocence
Bursting from every sad jagged seam.

Lying amidst this embryonic forest,
A penny, tarnished, smooth, retired.
34 years afloat in the system,
Mediating countless transactions.

Your travels are lost my faux copper friend,
Tendered tenure of pockets and ash trays,
Unwitting watchman of wishes and wells,
Without a story you’ve become any penny.

-T. Weeks
(A response to “No Labor-Saving Machine”)

You’ll be comforted to know
My Bogeyman just barfed.
A patron of unforeseen doom,
Shadowed crusader of fright,
Glowing eyed minister of fear,
Is clutching the toilet bowl rim
Puking his sinister guts out.
The fog of fearing the specter
Lifted by a gastrointestinal spasm.

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me”)

Today just sucked
There’s no other way to say it.
I missed my queues,
Stumbled over myself,
And sounded like an idiot.
I’m sure I offended some
And confused others.
Even this poem is crappy.
Tomorrow is coming,
Hope I don’t skew that up.

-T. Weeks
(A response to “A Promise to California”)

Here we sit under quilted silence,
Momentary rest from the fervid rhetoric,
Aromatic tension perfuming the room
As we steep in the energetic hush.

For this minute we are one body
As we, one mind, consider our state.
Uninvited, the rude gong bellows,
Intention shattered, and we are many.

-T. Weeks
(A response to “We Two Boys Together Clinging”)