I will call it debnüs this great expanse of water
Waves and tides striking the rocks and sand at the edges
Rolling watery hills catching and releasing the sun each day
A blue world full of creatures beautiful and terrible
The rest may call it by a common name
Few will listen beyond the word
But when I call it by this name many will wonder
-T. Weeks
(A response to “From Montauk Point”)
How inevitable the misfortunes ahead
How evanescent the fortunes that I seek
How precious the misfortunes I make
How sinister the fortunes I find
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Paumanok”)
Cool eyes roll across the table
One set into the other
Two shots down and it’s one to one
Best out of three
Ready?
Rock
Paper
Scissors
Shoot.
A hundred years from now they’ll wonder
How we made such a decision made
And we’ll laugh because we didn’t
Sincerely, Lovejoy and Pettygrove
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Mannahatta”)
I wrote this one for the likes.
-T. Weeks
(A response to “So Long!”)
Behind the house that anxiety built
I swing alone above the pond
Where frogs and birds gossip
About the greeness of the trees
And the glassiness of the water
While I worry about missed emails
Everything about the pond is slow
And right now I feel slow too
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Now Finale to the Shore”)
Strolling through a reverent grove of cloth-walled cubicals
We talk in whispers so we don’t break the contract with silence
Even though we don’t see any of the humans we know they’re there
Chittering of mouse clicks and keyboard clacks
And syncopated coughs floating below the halogen canopy
Betray this complex creature in its habitat
-T. Weeks
(A response to “These Carols”)
The empty plastic cup in my hand pulses
Picking up a harmonic of the approaching steel strum
Amps rumble the foundations of the theatre
Sweeping dust from the floorboards beneath my feet
The singer throws back his balding curls
Sweaty beard swipes at the void
His arm pumping across the strings like a piston
His voice a full steam whistle
Primeval spirits call for an encore
He completes his sacrament and makes way for the headliner
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Portals”)
Gunga Din marched into war
Agent among the occupiers
Wearing their uniform and adopting their speech
Serving water and adoration, showered in ridicule
Month after month, patient
When the moment whispered from a barrel
He sprung his trap, the cleverest of revenges
Dying to save his tormentor
Burrowing deep inside his conscious
Undead tormentor of dreams and quiet thoughts
-T. Weeks
(A response to “The Untold Want”)
Life Immense 