The Poetry Marathon

I’ve been sitting for minutes. The bus should have been here by now. Traffic is backed up on A street. And on the C underpass, as far as I can see.

A truck just rolled by and I heard a traffic report that there are accidents all over town. And then a kid rolled by ranting about how they should have left even earlier to make it to his game on time.

It seems like no one is where they want to be. Maybe we can all agree to start over.

Racist black friend

you just can’t see them

they’re well hidden to look down on you.

You will be scolded for hiding the siren and the shipwreck.

To hear itself clapping for the wrong reasons.

Your dad is doing the best he knows how. Acknowledge that, say thanks, and move on.

Accept your body for what it is and work with it. Your physical health is tied to flexibility and there’s only one way to get more flexible.

The choice is always yours.

Anxiety will be a major player in your life forever. Lean in to it.

When it’s brutal, get out of the way.

P.S. Say nice things to yourself sometimes.

There’s nothing out here in the fog of war.

The sloshing of water in the canteen dissipates to nothing. All sounds here are hushed.

I can remember moonbeams shining across the concrete dock. I can remember…

But memories also fade to oblivion.

There was a woman. I can remember…

But now all is quiet and I am alone.

Rarely do we get the chance to stand in front of an audience and speak our minds.

I love Dad more than anyone and I’m nervous for when he leaves.

It seems like a long way off and it’ll be here before we know it.

If I could have just one more day with him, it would be enough.

I want to be ready for that moment when I can speak for him. I want to represent him well.

The secret is to just get out of the way.

I’m willing to clean her vomit,

cook her breakfast,

and wash her sheets.

I listen to her pains,

celebrate her successes,

and smile when she needs it.

We’re 7 years in, with 70 to go.

It’s been an honor to be many things

and to be with so many people

I look forward to crossing more streams, roads, bridges, and paths

The box is empty

otherwise we would be safe

filling the box now

It’s scary in here. In this vessel I can’t move, can’t breathe. I’m hyperventilating. I can hear the sound but can’t feel the air.

Theres someone behind the curtain. Off to my right. There’s someone else, or maybe the same thing, at the foot of the bed.

The shadows of long bony fingers are reaching for the corner. Help!

In this vessel I can’t move.

Snacky sweet and sticky feet

a sensational view

as my friend and I move and eat mechanically and wonder if there’s something more