|First Day Uncertainty
We discover our professor isn’t going to be in class today.
Our assignment is online, only words no sounds.
We wonder, “Is this quote from the reading?”
We scan the books, the hundreds of pages,
none of them says anything worth remembering.
We better just follow instructions as simply as stated.
Twelve against seven in a battle for honor.
One foot flies high
Makes the stars flicker
then pitch-black silence.
Two full Birds carry my limp body up the brow
and the world slowly comes to focus:
my boots bounce off the steps
playing cards against spokes
the smell of salt in the air
the sway of the Nashville rolling in waves.
Son, when Doc says duck……
Bird Trumps a Twig
An Enson screams from behind the podium
Chief get the Shore Patrol.
But the Captain grabs the Enson,
slams his nose against the Captain’s brass,
while the second Bird comes in view.
The smell of fear, a soft moan is released.
broken in one low voice
All is forgotten:
Two Birds trumps your little Twig.
|The Weight of the World
In the locker room of my mind,
Lists bully me until I throw them against the hard, brick wall
stuff them into rank lockers. Deadlines come towards me,
I wrestle them to the cold tile and make them whine for mercy.
I watch the small and skinny Assignments
hike up their skirts and run away like little, tattling girls.
I can hear the screaming and crying down the hall.
I take a breath, taste the sweat and mildew,
say a quick prayer
for the beat and battered Lists,
the whimpering Deadlines
the immature Assignments.
Getting up with a sense of accomplishment,
I leave with my head held high, until
walking to class, I realize...
and stop to ask what God wants.
I wish that I could see my toes,
but atrocious pounds of fat
cause much anxiety.
I can barely do a jumping jack
and my closet sits filled with scarcely worn clothes.
As summer creeps upon me,
I panic with a possible double chin.
I awake at my desk, wiping drool
off my test and my scribbled, “Bow flex.”
Envy and Property
35 nights passed.
This voyage, begun with hopes of a new route,
lands consumed by hunger.
We have come upon a strange place,
greeted by the most curious of people,
impressed by us. We were worshiped,
then presented a feast,
entertained by dancing and chanting,
bare bodies lit by fire’s light.
But my thoughts are filled
with the things power does to the weak.
A Hard Trip
On Thanksgiving, I wake on a hospital bed
Mom explaining, comforting
I reach for my head,
count twelve stitches.
Thankful, realizing how lucky I am.
Life goes on
a trip always remembered.
I do not recognize this green sky.
The orange-colored rocks burn my eyes.
Unsettled, my fingertips drop the blue-grass
They’re just blades in my defeated hands.
I fought with thoughts of victory,
but cut after cut
my hopes are slashed.
All that is left is to beg for mercy.
We could have felt the joy of controlling this planet.
How I wish I could recognize the sky.
90 minutes in Composition Hell
Rachel crinches from hearing
“Where have you been Skiperella?”
The thunder of Sukany stomping, meddling
one by one, and making them writhe,
all while shaking his keys like an ignored fire alarm.
Same old rules, same old jokes, same old bull,
suffering in Hell because we’re still trying to get everything
done so we never repeat.
Schooling the Birds
Chemistry is for jackdaws.
Like a crow ruins a crop,
this Scientific method,
spoils my GPA.
Like an eagle, Spiritual Formation
soars above the mountains,
expanding horizons and building confidence.
Both birds, productive in nature,
towards the Will of the Divine.