How do you shrug off what you can’t remember? Do you just let it dissolve into someone else’s recollection?
As if there’s a memo
Evidence without a frame
Your last word a crime
absent
away
A dish with out a spoon
A clattering key
A misshapen reality
A distracted song
The little dog sighs
At the cow’s benign lies
As beneath the moon
It moos
~bw
this poem is stuck in my
craw
denying its
existence in
knotted threads I
unravel and pull then
sputter and
spit nonsensical
bile scattered
phrases that
refuse to
connect
there are no dots
~bw
nothing will be okay
everything will
stop breathing
why
nevermind
but yeah . . . sometimes it inspires thought
what inspires thought
cessation of breathing
what’s wrong with you
you never ask the right question
I get lost
me too
what
~bw
A conveyor belt of clouds
rides across the Rockies
painting her ridges white.
~bw
If chaos wins its way with we
tomorrow’s chatter chimes,
resubmerging symphonies
might drown before our eyes.
And everything that ever was
will never be the same,
except the pounding sound of drums
that rage against the rain.
~bw
Expecting the worst
Toxic traces of anxiety feed on me
This waiting feels cursed
Somewhere in the universe
A prerecorded destiny
Expecting the worst
Life in reverse
A parasitic mystery
This waiting feels cursed
Let my angst traverse
This ever sliding scree
Expecting the worst
This repeating verse
Will never set me free
This waiting feels cursed
This inclination to asperse
Echoes like a banshee
Expecting the worst
This waiting feels cursed
~bw
I don’t even know where I am half the time
Swirling through my own debris
Like a cyclone trying to correct itself
Every time I laugh, I feel surprised
Every time I cry, something in me knows
It’s okay to die
So I slow down my breathing
And take my time
It’s killing me
This Argentinian Malbec veil
Sops up sorrow like a sieve
Until I don’t remember anything
About who I used to be
I don’t even know where I am half the time
~bw
Dreams of disintegrating teeth haunted my adolescence
then crumbled true a few weeks ago.
Well, only one tooth
powdered like the Buddha by Arlee.
Days dissolved into days.
My empty tooth ached for its missing pieces.
That tooth so integral to chewing
cringed at any bite.
And this morning?
After forty five pain free minutes
with a new fixer, a lady dentist, three years in—
I’m chewing again.
~bw
Act well without attachment to the fruits of your action.
~Bhagavad Gita
Uncertainty stretches and relaxes its fingers
moving between fear and choice.
Is everything a balancing act?
A walk on a tightrope?
Take that step and let go.
Open to life’s unfolding.
Weep at the beauty of snow geese rising.
Still yourself in the glory of being.
Trust impermanence like a crumbling Buddha.
Walk both dogs at once.
Rest in uncertainty.
This is what it means to be present.
Is anything more important?
~bw
Imagine teaching your dream writing class
filled with adolescent poets
waiting to be sparked.
Tracing our hands,
we generate topics—
one feeling for each finger.
Teacher Lady gives the first one.
Elation: word of the week.
Everyone writes it on a digit.
What else you got?
Sorrow!
Poverty!
City Girl says poverty isn’t a feeling. Giving rise to replies.
You ever been poor?
Stuff it, City Girl.
Isn’t poverty like being hungry all the time? –that’s a feeling.
What about poverty of spirit?
City Girl says good point and
so . . .
elation, sorrow, poverty, and greed!
There’s another one—greed!
Teacher Lady interjects—
Yes City girl,
like a poet’s greed for words
her hunger, aching to be fed
that absent muse
that’s what hurts.
Hey Teacher Lady
Why you call a poet her?
seems – (his fingers air-quote this part)—
“non – in – clu – sive”
Poverty Boy pronounces every syllable in singsong
nodding his head back and forth.
Good point, Poverty Boy
nothing feels equal.
Maybe you should write about it.
Express your angst.
Express your elation.
Your words open cracks
that need your light.
Open your journals.
Some Other Kid retorts
Look at our hand chart.
We only have four feelings.
What about our thumb?
Teacher Lady replies
Add angst.
a feeling of deep anxiety or dread
something that needs light
later we’ll revisit and make today’s word shine
Here are your words:
elation, sorrow, poverty, greed, and angst
Pick one or more.
Dig deep.
You know the drill.
20 minutes on the timer and…..
The entire class yells,
Commence!
Heads down,
relentless pencils scratch and explore.
~bw
Notes: This piece follows today’s NaPo prompt to write a How To poem. It lost the formatting when I uploaded, and wish I knew how to upload audio from my phone. This is best served out loud. Day 2. Check!
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