The happiest prosoector
Surveys his claim
Dappled light dancing
On his hoary grin
This stream
Fresh from the glaciers
Tingly clear and laughing
This meadow
Poppies and marmots and twisted pines
This loaded mule
Tools aplenty
And whiskey to boot
This gold nugget
First one this year
But what’s the rush
-T. Weeks
There’s an unfinished painting
Above the piano
It might be stones or water
Or nothing
I can’t tell
It’s a fine line between
Abstract and incomplete
Found it at a garage sale
An old lady died
Her son was selling a stack
She never signed them
He said
They weren’t finished
She said
A little added here and there
Who knows what they were
At the beginning
Or how they wandered
Over the years
Now she’s dead
And here it hangs
Unfinished still
I love that painting
-T. Weeks
Sometimes we ride bikes
Because that’s who we are
Sometimes it’s because we want to
Sometimes a poem is just a poem
Sometimes it’s more than that
But not always
Sometimes I sit on the swing in the yard
Other times I’m all in my head
Sometimes it’s both at the same time
Sometimes I have nothing to say
Or more than I thought
Or too much
Sometimes is always never all the time
But could be much of the time
Or never at all
-T. Weeks
Ocean waves are circles
Like giant donuts spilling outward
At least when they get big enough
At least that’s what the dream said
Just before the storm started
When the wind picked me up
When it threw me into the air
Powerless I saw the sea
A blanket held at the edges by powers invisible
Shaking the fabric
Like those parachutes kids play with
A death gray patchwork parachute
Giant water donuts
Surging rolling spitting growling
Friends family loved ones nowhere to be seen
Alone
And what would I do if I had them
The outcome is out for delivery
We survive alone
We remember together
-T. Weeks
When I first started writing
I was trying to write
Along the way I stopped
Writing poetry that is
Hunting experience instead
To capture it
Wrestle it into captivity
Ed Smith wrecked my poetry
Just slapped me in the face
Told me to stop domesticating it
Observe it in its natural habitat
Where it’s wild and vicious
Where it’ll fuck my shit right up
-T. Weeks
Here are three tips for enjoying Vegas
For the person that hates Vegas
…
Well never mind
I fucking hate Vegas
The strip feels exactly like an airport
A huge poorly lit disorganized airport
So by the time I leave
I feel like I’ve been on one long layover
Except I don’t mind actual layovers
They’re free time I didn’t know I’d have
Vegas is like a layover in a black hole
Where time runs in reverse
And light goes to die
And burgers are fucking fifteen dollars
And the masses are blowing their cash
On that getaway they deserve
Because someone told them they deserved it
And that someone is an owner of a casino
Next time I’m there I’m going to bring a toilet
Put it in a corner and say to people,
“Hey you look like a hard worker.
You deserve a reward for all your hard work.
Because I like the cut of your jib
I’ve got the opportunity of a lifetime.
For just five bucks
I’ll let you put five bucks in this toilet.”
They’ll feel appreciated and I’ll have ten bucks
They’ll move on ogling
And I’ll sit there busking until my flight arrives.
-T. Weeks
Shoes
Side by side
On the sidewalk
Toes to the street
Waiting to cross
Looking across
Who is in them
No one
Everyone
Saturday-night smiles
Pass the shoes
Ignore the shoes
Not see the shoes
Enigma on the curb
Oh god
Are those my shoes
-T. Weeks
(A response to a pair of shoes
left on the curb outside Powell’s)
Little puck swallows the spark
Nothing happens
At first
Then it does
From flame and smoke
Black-knuckled shadows
Long claw of ash
Rises and curls
Adolescent acolytes witness
Whoop and giggle
Priest-child raises the lighter
Triumphant
Magic was made
-T. Weeks
(A response to the same
4th of July fireworks every year)
Do bullfrogs belch?
Or do they purr?
It could be either one
Up the hill and in the house
The song rumbles in my brain
How it must rattle
No code
No meaning
Just a massage for
Pond-eyed frog faces
-T. Weeks
(A response to bullfrogs bullfrogging)
Life Immense 