Month: April 2017

I think I would like prison
Not scary butt-rapey prison
But one of those cushy prisons
Spending days by the pile
Marooned among my native pursuits
Foraging the cosmos
Free to explore

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Joy, Shipmate, Joy!”)

I thought I wanted to be an artist
But I also needed insurance
I thought I wanted to be a scientist
But I was surprised by opportunity
I thought I wanted to be an engineer
But I couldn’t abandon my kids
I thought I wanted to steer a ship
But I hadn’t mastered politics
I thought I wanted a destination
But I think it was happiness all along

-T. Weeks
(Response to “As They Draw to a Close”)

Haphazard ellipses congregate
Hubris capturing and rendering the world
Analogue ripples bending
The sky the birds my face
Retreating clouds give less
The pools recede already
And where do the puddles go when the water is gone?
Do they cease to exist?
Or are they lying dormant?
Contours of a landscape
Waiting selfies for the next storm

-T. Weeks
(A response to “The Sobbing of the
Bells [Midnight, Sept. 19-20, 1881]”)