Watch carefully this creature
Fragile Sisyphean automaton
Blind to its pheromone leash
Eating sleeping birthing dying
Yet free
Free to find Janus in a step
-T. Weeks
(A response to “BOOK XXIX: To Think of Time”)
Category: Uncategorized
Ex Nihilo
The madness the crazy
Seizes and releases
Grabs and hides
Shallow darkness obscuring
Intentions unintended
Pulls observations
Disparate
Forces them together
Unholy union
Unorthodox unconventional
Something new
Shocking
Creation ultimo
Ab initio
Never ex nihilo
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Transpositions”)
Limn
Tie dye sparkly technicolor dreamscape
Many-armed crucified zen smile prophet
Primitive mystical mixing on a color wheel
Limning from a pinhole all that is and me
-T. Weeks
(A response to “BOOK XXVIII: The Sleepers”)
Explorer
Adventure is never gilded on the fly
From shore the horizon is magic and song
As soon as home is lost behind
Noncommittal dreams flicker ahead
Misery blooms on decaying hope
Blue escape beckons from the deep
No postcards no glory no songs
Until that timid shore noses above the surf
Sending gulls racing before sails like confetti
Calling the aliens ashore
Pulse and adrenaline serve inevitability
Carving bravery out of rough hewn despair
-T. Weeks
(A response to “BOOK XXVII: Prayer of Columbus”)
Look Out
Behind the controls and looking out
Something steers that lumbering mass
It’s ship is become wobbly and slow
Eyelids painted exotic colors fly wildly
Last remnants of heady days and dreams
Sure the sails slouch and the bulwark sags
And the hull waterlogged bulges
Yet inside a little captain ready eyes sharp
Scans the horizon and tucks the spyglass
Wrestles the helm and sends down an order
We need fuel
Tacos sound good let’s have those
-T. Weeks
(A response to “BOOK XXVI: Passage to India”)
A Machine Learning
Lumbering halting starting stopping starting
Turning realigning examining evaluating
Extrapolating interpolating modeling
Computing iterating requesting
Waiting receiving interpreting
Warning alerting reacting
Downloading loading
Decompressing
Reinitializing
Adjusting
Ready
-T. Weeks
(A response to “BOOK XXV: Proud Music of the Storm”)
The Bold Quixotes
Puffing chests standing straight
Everything fuzz and cataracts
At the helm of a ship in need of steering
The Quixotes turn about
Searching for familiar troops
Buzzing lines expectant
Seeing giants everywhere
Massive arms waving
The bold Quixotes point the charge
Bugling affirmations
Our greatest threat mocks us
We must not cower before this enemy
We must not shun the fight
Charge charge for our salvation
Satisfied with their bold leadership
They congratulate each other
And feel their way home
Unable to see if the giants fell
Or how the troops faired
Or if there were any troops
-T. Weeks
(A response to “The Prairie States”)
The Museum
Every wall a mural
Bright and brooding
Frameless and flowing
Into and onto the next
Rendered in relief
Forming and fading
Eluding and evolving
Sight ephemeral
-T. Weeks
(A response to “My Picture-Gallery”)
Lap
Legs burn lungs burn eyes burns
Sweat bubbles congregates
On elbows and brimming brows
Libations to a rabbit
An empty track an absent applause
Clock resets again do it again
Breath breath breath
-T. Weeks
(A response to “With All Thy Gifts”)
Praise to the Man
There’s a little man up there
Barely visible among the pillows
Stuffed in that granite chair
Tossing reverent shadows
Across a smothered land
Monolithic enduring symmetric
The chair sows admiration
Sometimes love oftentimes fear
Harvesting in relentless strokes
The little man peaks over the edge
Everyone approaches the chair
None can scale the giant legs
All marvel at the tenant
Atop his glorious perch
Praise to the lonely little man
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Italian Music in Dakota”)
Life Immense 