Long and wide runs the highway
Carved eons before the land was here
There is only one road and this is it
No exits or rest stops or truck stops
Just a beginning and an end
Anxieties and emails buzz across the road
Only to splat across my windshield
Blocking the sunbaked periphery
I forget they were ever not there
Until a little sweat cleans the glass
Clearing my sight and the scene
-T. Weeks
(A response to “An Evening Lull“)
A night’s pain rolls in my stomach
Rolls into my gut and my brain and head
All I want to do is sleep
But the gears are slipping and grinding
Loud irreparable and deep
Medicine doesn’t help maybe even made it worse
What can I do but breath
Breath until my breath reaches the deep
Blurs the noise just enough to see it
It is a hill and every hill has a summit
No matter how much it tries to rise forever
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Now Precedent Songs, Farewell“)
There’s a joke I like to tell myself
The one about the wave that’s afraid of returning to the ocean
Yeah I know it’s silly
-T. Weeks
(A response to “The Dismantled Ship“)
Life fills this house
Children arguing about Minecraft
Cat sitting on a cereal box
Plants green and vascular
Keep the soil from washing out beneath us
The Atlas of our home soundly napping
Setting the weight down for a minute
Only to shoulder it again in the next
-T. Weeks
(A response to “As the Greek’s Signal Flame“)
Another pen is empty
Milked for all its ideas
By thrust and parry
In a dance-off with entropy
It gave all it had
And all it had is in my sketchbook
Dried between pages
Covered in the entrails
Of pens before it
-T. Weeks
(A response to “The Dead Emperor“)
Life Immense 