Category: Poems

Let the spire lie
Replicas are cheap
Laser precision
Is not resurrection
Ancient mystery
Only grows
In a bed of ruins

-T. Weeks
(A response to Notre Dame burning)

Infinity is a thief
Flattening moments
Robbing minutes
And years
And lifetimes
Thank finity for an end
Priceless
Are the last few steps

-T. Weeks
(A response to beautiful finales)

He came from Scapoose
Invited to karaoke
Mic burns in his hands
In the air
Head bangs for tonight
For yesterday
For years lost
Soul growls for the crowd
He chases the lyrics
Bows to the room
And comes back to an empty bar
Sits alone
Drinks the last half of a beer
Left by his friends

-T. Weeks
(A response to a tragic noble
character ditched by his friends)

Nothing to see here
Besides heads low
Beers on cruise control
Something hazy
I can’t be the only nerd
To think IPA meant
Isopropyl Alcohol
It was confusing
Forget ethanol
That shit will kill you

-T. Weeks
(A response to India Pale Ales)

Okay Mr. Kerouac
You wrote your book
And your poems
People quote them
And misquote them
There are stories
Crazy ones
About your life
Mostly from the road
Now they’re out stories
We tell them
And retell them
We head out on the road
Looking for what?
You? Or us?

-T. Weeks
(A response to a good quote on Instagram)

Have a weird beer
In a dungeon
In Poland.
Check.
Wait, was that even on the list?
It is now

-T. Weeks
(A response to saying yes)

Boys and a dog
With sticks in their hands
Well the dog uses its mouth
But that’s basically the same thing
Trek across the field
Determined and coordinated
Searching for something
Bigs one lead and little ones follow
Sun fills the stage
Warm nostalgic tones
Where are they going

-T. Weeks
(A response to a Saturday at the park)

Freddy Mercury
Blaze Foley
Roger Stone
Tic Tacs

Just think
It was in my head
The whole time

One on stage
One at arms
One far away

The jet engine
Says Rolls Royce on the side

Trail mix and a beer

-T. Weeks
(A collage of unfinished responses
from month of travel)

Don’t blink itch or laugh
Don’t be silly soft or human
You’re the pilot
Be like an airplane

-T. Weeks
(A response to the pilot putting on his seatbelt)

Show starts at nine
Got an hour to kill
Got an hour to live

Two drinks in
Good man gone
Tab opened wide

To the best of us
Raise a glass
It’s music to the end

-T. Weeks
(A response to the passing
of my good friend Keith)