Gunga Din marched into war
Agent among the occupiers
Wearing their uniform and adopting their speech
Serving water and adoration, showered in ridicule
Month after month, patient
When the moment whispered from a barrel
He sprung his trap, the cleverest of revenges
Dying to save his tormentor
Burrowing deep inside his conscious
Undead tormentor of dreams and quiet thoughts
-T. Weeks
(A response to “The Untold Want”)
I think I would like prison
Not scary butt-rapey prison
But one of those cushy prisons
Spending days by the pile
Marooned among my native pursuits
Foraging the cosmos
Free to explore
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Joy, Shipmate, Joy!”)
I thought I wanted to be an artist
But I also needed insurance
I thought I wanted to be a scientist
But I was surprised by opportunity
I thought I wanted to be an engineer
But I couldn’t abandon my kids
I thought I wanted to steer a ship
But I hadn’t mastered politics
I thought I wanted a destination
But I think it was happiness all along
-T. Weeks
(Response to “As They Draw to a Close”)
Haphazard ellipses congregate
Hubris capturing and rendering the world
Analogue ripples bending
The sky the birds my face
Retreating clouds give less
The pools recede already
And where do the puddles go when the water is gone?
Do they cease to exist?
Or are they lying dormant?
Contours of a landscape
Waiting selfies for the next storm
-T. Weeks
(A response to “The Sobbing of the
Bells [Midnight, Sept. 19-20, 1881]”)
Macaroni mosaic
Orientations and angles
Noodling on a theme
Present a dog and a duck
Unmistakable
The dinosaur and river
Look similar
But the person
Is unforgettable
Upturned pasta smile
Downturned happy eyes
Wavy hair and ears
Immortalized in glue
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Camps of Green”)
Last in line
Latest in line
Back of the line
Wait for a turn
To get in
Drop harness
Clackety rise
Kinetic chorus
Two-hand salute
Peak at danger
Ready to get out
Safe again
Ride again
Never more
-T. Weeks
@life_immense
(A response to “Pensive on Her Dead Gazing”)
Three heads in ascending order bow
Figuring slivers of the doctor’s tome
Stumbling through fabricated rhymes
While technicolor fishes smile
And condescending cats taunt
Together they read they laugh they learn
This have I created but it is not mine
This moment is theirs and I want to give them more
-T. Weeks
(A response to “My Legacy”)
Tyrants and matchsticks rattle in the glovebox
Chipseal crunches against balding tires
No lines define lanes but the vehicle knows
This side for going that side for coming
No navigator moves the wheel or accelerates
Backseat drivers act by committee
Voting bickering committing
“Stay on the road” their invocation
“Stay on the road” their benediction
Confident they will because they always have
Nobody sees the fork coming
It doesn’t matter
They wouldn’t know what to do anyway
-T. Weeks
(A response to “As at Thy Portals Also Death”)
Hello sun and waves
Hello wind and stars
Hello horizons and herds
Hello faces and flocks
Said the Universe to itself
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Song at Sunset”)
This creation is missing just one little piece
Hiding somewhere in the polychrome jumble
Diffusing out of sight with each scoop and sift
I’ve been searching for an hour
Combed every corner
Spread the collection across the floor
Hunted one by one
Yesterday it was in my hand and tossed back
Today it’s the only brick that matters
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Thoughts”)
Life Immense 