The Poetry Marathon

Surrounded by notes

I write on everything

About everything

Here are notes from the important phone call with a friend

Here are notes for the next call with another friend

Notes of people to call

Things to do

Bills to pay

Bills paid

Scraps of sentiment

Pieces of inspiration

Poems

Love

Hate

Priorities

Things I meant to do weeks ago

I am aswirl in paper with writing

One sided paper for writing/recycling

Small pieces, big pieces

Show fliers reused

One day

They will all swirl together

And land

In a way that tells

The Whole Story

For someone else to piece together

In a fireplace with ashes

(Thank you, Poetry Marathon!)

Half-marathoner Martin Webb

I activate the carousel

And send you around

Hair blowing behind you

All smiles, no sound

The fun that we have

Is frivolous stuff

So after multiple go-rounds

Enough is enough

Scenery goes blurry

The stomach gets queasy

We exit this ride

Sit still…and take it easy

Oh my goodness! Look what I see!

I forgot to water my decision-making tree

It sits there so stoic, remaining quite calm

Looking like a date tree or maybe a palm

I’m sorry old gal! I forgot you existed!

Thank goodness you’re here and that you #persisted

I carefully examine each branch and each limb

While singing a worksong, a personal hymn

Hello there, old tree, what did you say?

I made a good decision by watering you today

I decide I’ve spent enough time

Between these walls

For the past 15 months

That I can walk around eyes closed

Navigate by hologram burned into retina

Muscle memory taking over

Knowing the constant steps between

Fridge and trash

Fridge and recycling

Fridge and compost

Nice compact metaphors for life

The consuming

The dropping

And the repetitive steps in between

A measurable distance

So I try it

And walk towards the direction I need to go

Eyes closed

Light changing on my eyelids

As a window makes itself known

That’s when it happens

There are no walls

There is no walking

There are no things

And up I go

As if beams had tractors

To plow them

In neat orderly rows

And I realize

Where the hell am I

Like a snake swallowing an egg

I unhinge my jaw

And take in all of

What you have to say

And I also

Try to swallow It whole

Eyes open

Unflinching

I feel my skull expand

As your words

Force there way into

My brain cavities

I am also just as certain

As that snake is

That this is how Nature

Intends me to be

And I commit to

Running through the length

Of my body

The energy of another

Unable to move

Until it brings shape

To Who I Am

Tomorrow

She said are you available

For a video call

I mean, yes, if we ignore

An entire poetry marathon, then I’m good

But that’s mine, not yours

You had something to share

Precious and beloved

And I want to see it

Nanduti

An ene over the first N

Which colonialism made mute

Paraguay’s finest folk art

You sent $200 to family there

No

I don’t care what colors

Just tell them to produce their art

I will take it all

Because I can

And I will share it with you

Because I can

And the marathon stopped

While we sat on the curb

And admired what can’t be bought

Smiles

Spider web intricacy

Emotional weaving

Colorful capture

And reveal

I continued through the dust and debris

Hearing voices, faint and unrecognizable

Adults, children, trapped

Had I left them in my memory that long?

Were they me?

Am I saving myself?

I swear I didn’t mean to leave you there

When my multi-story facade collapsed

Into a pile of yesterday

Talk to things that won’t listen

Judge things that don’t care

Make a difference in everyone else’s lives but your own

Apply yourself to something useless

Stretch to reach something nearby

Dream of dreaming

Collect someone else’s memories

Revoke your own permits

Welcome to being a poor non-white single mother

Designed to take the beatings of a sun

That is so far away

While praying for rain nearby

We knew life wasn’t fair

It was your mantra

To explain away anything that

You couldn’t explain at all

We supposed you knew

What you were doing

After all, we’re kids

You’re adults

We were dependent

On you

As you laughed

All the way to the bank

Stealing futures

To make your presents

Charging up a debt

That you carefully avoid

Don’t worry

Life’s not fair

So we pick up the bill

And clean up the mess

You left everyone

Perhaps

Another

Reader

Accuses

Death

Of

X-ing

Walkways

After

Initially

Taking

Sabbaticals

For

Other

Reasons

You

Obviously

Underappreciate