Archive for the ‘Week 17’ Category
New tee shirt… what do you think??
This has been floating around in my head for a few weeks…. Not sure if I should print it as I don’t know if anyone would want to wear it.
One of my goals this time round with TGAP was to work on revising my work. I’ve spent the last couple of months this summer researching revision theory and application. This week’s submission is a revision of a poem I published in an earlier form for Week 13.
Every time the circling vulture
Sirens pass our house,
I take inventory of where
Mine are. Need to make sure
Sound is spinning off
Toward someone else’s bliss;
That the whispering touch of E.M.T.s
Will settle someone else’s
Soul to coma, jettison words
Through an impartial mouthpiece
Toward another mother’s ears.
While, through my phone,
Cam jokes, “Mom, I’m just calling
With the 4-1-1. I’m at the club.
Just letting you know in case
Something happens. Okay, Mom?” But
When I imagine him leaving
Club Three-One-Three with another
Boy in a homophobic
Part of town, I
See him falling from Charlie’s
Bridge or tied to Matthew’s
Zoë calls from the shady
Park, she wants
To play there untended into the evening.
But even as I imagine her friends
Close by, the candy doling strangers,
Lure her from the swinging glee
To the loud and eternal scribble
Of every Amber Alert scrawled too late.
I swell like a siren swells; and as I
Activate this emotional lockdown,
The ambulance heads
South and rolls toward
Another mother’s disaster.
This Friday is Josh’s birthday. Josh loves to fish. Josh enjoys scotch. We love Josh, so I made him this scotch glass with a fish painted on it. It’s a mere symbol of what Josh means to us. You see, he deserves the “World’s Best Dad” coffee mug. A whole cabinet full of them, but this will get more use. Stepdad to Tristen. Dad to Sawyer. Father figure to Ava. Thanks for taking Ava fishing. Thanks for listening to her music. Thanks for walking around with the pen she gave you in your shirt pocket. Thanks for taking her shopping for the best guitar. Thanks for playing drums to her guitar. We raise this glass to you. Happy birthday, Josh!
Water colors on canvas board.
Flying Lesson 17
It’s a walk planned only because it’s a necessary move.
The walk as a gift is this time a gift within a gift.
At home my couch surfers are gathering. One, who is still out with friends, will be sleeping on the couch. Three, newly arrived and gone to meet others, will be sleeping in my bed and on my extra mattress.
I will sleep at Amanda’s. I leave the house before any of them come back ….. it feels good.
With a bag filled with pillow, toothbrush, book and clean underwear I leave for my walk.
It’s late, soon midnight, and the streets on my little island are empty. Automatically I walk where I’m used to since childhood, in the middle of the street. Sidewalks are for cowards.
I love to feel the air all around me.
Which is also good when flying.
The more in the middle I walk the more satisfied I feel, symmetry, equal amount of air on all sides.
Soon I’ll be adding it under me as well, as soon as I learn how to lift off.
As I’m walking uphill on these empty streets I can slowly feel how my old defenses are sliding down my neck. Guilt is slowly crawling there. On my forehead wrinkles gather more and more, some anger, some excuses, some tense readiness awaiting.
On my shoulders responsibility is heavily seated. Should and Would, each on one shoulder.
I get a feeling that my walk might be too short today. That there won’t be enough time to learn to navigate through all this old junk blocking my view.
I empty my think tank and fill it with more air.
I am not the junk weighing me down, I can not be compared, I can not be put in boxes made for tiny stunted egos.
I’m just skin and bones and the muscles in between! I am skin and bones and the muscles in between, with the only purpose to bring me forward. I am skin and bones and the muscles in between, in cooperation with an oscillating movement in motion. I am skin and bones and the muscles in between and solely because of these being moved from a given point.
Everything else are chemical reactions.
The gift to move myself is a wonderful gift.
But I have to learn to move on all levels. Not just to flee but to actually fly!
Flying lessons are very necessary!
Much later I wake up in peace on Amanda’s couch.
Too hot to do anything grand so I did this silly thing.