Month: October 2016

Adventure is never gilded on the fly
From shore the horizon is magic and song
As soon as home is lost behind
Noncommittal dreams flicker ahead
Misery blooms on decaying hope
Blue escape beckons from the deep
No postcards no glory no songs
Until that timid shore noses above the surf
Sending gulls racing before sails like confetti
Calling the aliens ashore
Pulse and adrenaline serve inevitability
Carving bravery out of rough hewn despair

-T. Weeks
(A response to “BOOK XXVII: Prayer of Columbus”)

Behind the controls and looking out
Something steers that lumbering mass
It’s ship is become wobbly and slow
Eyelids painted exotic colors fly wildly
Last remnants of heady days and dreams
Sure the sails slouch and the bulwark sags
And the hull waterlogged bulges
Yet inside a little captain ready eyes sharp
Scans the horizon and tucks the spyglass
Wrestles the helm and sends down an order
We need fuel
Tacos sound good let’s have those

-T. Weeks
(A response to “BOOK XXVI: Passage to India”)

Legs burn lungs burn eyes burns
Sweat bubbles congregates
On elbows and brimming brows
Libations to a rabbit
An empty track an absent applause
Clock resets again do it again
Breath breath breath

-T. Weeks
(A response to “With All Thy Gifts”)