Month: July 2018

Where is the common place
Have I ever been there
Or have I never left

-T. Weeks
(A response to “The Commonplace“)

It’s the first night back in the house
After the flood
We sift boxes and greet rooms
And reintroduced waiting breezes
Just before the credits roll on this episode
The washing machine begins to spin
Like a desperate villainous lunge at our backs
Water drips from a light
Tapping out a promise on the kitchen floor
Disaster is always waiting in our walls
Working it’s way towards a sequel
Or maybe a trilogy

-T. Weeks
(A response to “A Persian Lesson“)

Just leave me alone you giant bully
You engine of life
What right do you have
Poking and prodding the sleeping helpless
So painfully early in the morning
What resentment do you carry
What offense could we have thrown so far
Turn your fury elsewhere
For just another fifteen minutes

-T. Weeks
(A response to “A Voice from Death“)

At the edge of a small bay
Framed by stacks of black lava rock
A hundred people watch the water
Others stand in the water
Beads strung across the mouth of the bay
Splooshing and whapping they advance
Shrinking the bay with each step
Sliding over and around obstacles
They keep the line unbroken and noisy
The bay folds in on itself
Fish have nowhere to go but towards shore
Onlookers follow along
We all bunch up
Fish and humans
From the shore we can see a great school
Nervous yellow tangs looking for escape
The master of the ceremony steps forward
Releases a low note from the conch
Silence is returned by the crowd
He volleys back an ancient chant
We hold hands and sing
Words we don’t understand
Strangers and interlopers and appropriators
The rite doesn’t care who we are
It casts its spell anyway
Opening our eyes to this bay and its bounty

T. Weeks
(A response to “Osceola”)