Cave Painting Revisited

Ever met a Time Traveler?
I know a few
They tend to stick around
It’s not like the movies
No flux capacitors
No phone booths
They use other parts
Hopes and hand motions
Pigments and prose
Pens and poses
Impressions and pains
Damnations and prayers…
Portals
Flowing forward and back
Repeating
Repeating
Repeating
Repeating
Etc
They aren’t trying to travel
Just trying to see
Tripping in the darkness
Feeling the texture
Timeless and infinite
And falling in
Like my buddy Walt
Watching the Brooklyn Ferry
Falling forever
Into the distant future

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry”)

Finding a New Font Sucks

Restless and laboring
Eyes open in bed
“I’ll die”
Thought the Toy Maker
“If I don’t write this down”
So he wrote
Wrote until his hand hurt
And his sweat smudged the ink
An almost flawless plan
But something was wrong
Words said one thing
Letters another
Were the serifs too desperate?
Was the kerning indecisive?
He started again
Injecting curiosity and confidence
Rounded corners and vertical lines
Chiseling grinding
Rejecting refining
“I won’t stop” he’d say
“Until it says what I mean”
Restarting again and again
Obsession boiled
Years passed
Until an old man
Alone and bent
Simply wrote “boy”
And Pinocchio leapt off the page

-T. Weeks