It's Saturday morning in the burbs, and I've got nothing to do. The kids don't have soccer or baseball. It's too early to barbecue. I cut the grass yesterday. I already own everything from Lowe's. There's no College GameDay until the fall. I know! I can hook the pressure washer up to the hose! I'll stand in my driveway in a muscle tank and backwards cap and whiten the concrete while I listen to rap! And before I know it, two hours will have flown by. I'll crack open my second beer of the day to combat the ten a.m. heat and think to myself: It's only June. What the hell am I going to do in July?
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Tag: poetry
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A Poem: Saturday Morning in the Burbs–Dad With Nothing to Do Edition
Posted at 9:59 am , on June 12, 2021
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A Poem: Painfully Pretty
Posted at 12:06 pm , on March 20, 2021
the morning hues state fair cotton candy blue and pink
and stops me and my Vans in my tracks
makes me blink hard and think
how can the world be so painfully pretty
i riffle through my rusty locker at school
while staring at the brunette with the sharp Cara Delevingne eyebrows and cheekbones
who sparkles glossy cool versus me, a murky cesspool
and i wonder what it's like to be so painfully pretty
i skip English class and beeline to the bathroom
because iambic pentameter and two star-crossed lovers
would only weight sighs to my gloom and we both know they die anyway in the tomb
i just can't stomach poetry that painfully pretty
i size myself up in the cracked mirror
wiping away the tears, i fall in and disappear
because everything but me is painfully pretty -
A Poem: Mistake
Posted at 8:56 am , on January 30, 2021
Miss, take my hopeful heart and eat it à la carte. This part, this art, this ache. There's too much at stake. Stake it to your kiss. Stake it to your abyss. This. Miss, take it for my sake-- before you find out I'm a selfish rake. Eat it raw. Don't let it bake. Miss, take my hopeful heart-- before you realize it's a mistake.
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A Teacher Poem: Going Through the eMotions
Posted at 10:46 am , on December 19, 2020
plaster a big smile on your face
even though it's hidden by your mask
wish the mask covered up your eyes too
because you're end of the school year tired but it's only December
because it's hard to fake enthusiasm with your retinas and your pupils
remind your in-person pupils, all twelve of them, to keep their space
don't touch his desk
or his backpack
or his breakfast
pinch your nose and close your eyes while you tell him for the umpteenth time to get his mask over his nose
lose your mind as he covers his eyeballs with it
because the sass, the audacity, is too much
because you're jealous
begin going through the eMotions
start your Google Meet
check you COVID screening spreadsheet
tell a student that if she doesn't turn her camera on, she will be marked absent
she doesn't
choke on your sigh of frustration
because she never listens
because you don't know if she's with her mom or her dad
because she might not even be there
because you don't know if she has anything to eat today
be thankful that the resolution sucks so the kids at home don't see the tear leaking out of your left eye
but the resolution IRL works just fine
nobody sees anyway because they're teenagers who have screens for faces
you're overwhelmed by going through the eMotions
put on a dog and pony show, a three ring circus, an Oscar worthy performance to try to get anybody to talk during the lesson
but the only thing you can hear is the clack clack clack of the keys
let them type their exit tickets while you recall pen and paper with nostalgia, the worst emotion of them all
work on fully digitizing a week's worth of lessons
turn pink and then red when you remember you can't use anything you've spent hours creating next school year because the curriculum is switching for the second time in two years
angry pound the keys as you type with a force that could shatter
your fingernails
your desk
the county
because you're tired of going through the eMotions
sift through Google Classroom for an assignment that he completed three weeks late that he expects to be graded RIGHT NOW
and so does his mom
she's only emailed you five times about it
you've responded once in return
the assignment's only half done
like the school year
like your sanity
like your self-esteem
ignore the other late work emails
rest your forehead on your desk
stare at your lap and breathe, breathe, breathe deep
look up to see if anyone witnessed your saga, your mental break down, your calamity
but they're teenagers who have screens for faces and Ray-Bradbury-is-rolling-over-in-his-grave
AirPods
because they're only concerned about their own emotions, not yours
and you're marrow-deep tired of going through the eMotions
so
you hand them a book--tactile, paper, cover, spine, pages to turn, black ink
and they stare at it like their mom put Brussels sprouts on their plate
when you've actually given them chocolate cake
because you're tired of eMotions
you smile, a real one this time, that lights up your bloodshot eyes
because books
because the bell rang
because it's finally break
and you've got two weeks off from going through the motions
try to turn off your inner monologue as you power down your Dell
but you know that you'll spend your entire break
going through your emotions -
A Teacher Poem: We’re in Trouble, Shoot!
Posted at 9:34 am , on September 26, 2020
trouble trouble troubleshoot nobody can hear me i've been speaking but i'm on mute trouble trouble troubleshoot caydon let the Zoom because his Chromebook needed to reboot trouble trouble troubleshoot amira's not paying attention because she's choosing a filter to make her look cute trouble trouble troubleshoot nobody can hear me i've been speaking but i'm on mute trouble trouble troubleshoot owen! turn off your camera! your dad just walked by in his birthday suit! trouble trouble troubleshoot mj's Google Doc won't load so he can't do the lesson on greek and latin roots trouble trouble troubleshoot i forgot to click record at the beginning of class hope i'm not slapped with a lawsuit trouble trouble troubleshoot Nobody can hear me. I've been speaking, but I'm on mute. We're in trouble, trouble, trouble. Shoot! Nobody can hear us. We've been speaking, but we're on mute. We're in trouble trouble trouble, bang! trouble shots fired! bang! all the teachers are tired trouble shots fired! bang! am i too young to retire? We're in trouble, trouble, trouble, shoot! Nobody can hear teachers. They've been speaking, but they're on mute. We're in trouble! Shots fired! Bang! We're in trouble! Don't shoot the messenger! Bang! The traditional classroom is dead. It isn't funny. Time of death: 2020. We're in trouble, trouble, trouble. Shoot!
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A Few Haiku in Memory of Ruth Bader Ginsburg
Posted at 10:10 am , on September 19, 2020
She fought for justice for all, against mustaches. Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Dissent collars and statement earrings and glasses. The right in the world feels so very wrong today. Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Thank you for all you have done. We'll be persistent.
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ruth_Bader_Ginsburg_2016_portrait.jpg -
A Teacher Poem: Invisible Students
Posted at 8:17 am , on August 22, 2020
invisible students cameras clicked off and microphones muted can't even mark them truant because i'm teaching invisible students invisible students masks hiding their faces making them feel stupid and like mutants because i'm teaching invisible students who don't want to talk because nothing is normal the People in Charge have stopped offering improvements because we're teaching invisible students living in the paranormal ghosted translucent the People in Charge are being imprudent because They don't care that we're teaching invisible students
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A Poem: Thin Air
Posted at 10:23 am , on July 18, 2020
you’re thin air
i need an oxygen mask
because you’re blowing thin air
i gasp and i gasp and i gasp
and i sighbecause i can’t breathe your thin air
you’re breathing in lies and breathing out lines
i can no longer ignore the signs
when you’re weaving thick lies out of thin airyour thin air is under pressure
your thick lies are under pressure
think you can press my face into the gas
for your pleasurei can’t breathe because you’re pressing my face into the gas for your pleasure
i’m under pressure
i’m under pressure
and i’ve got one question to ask
for good measurehow can you be so cold when you’re full of hot air?
i gasp and i gasp and i gasp
and i sighif i stay here a moment longer
i’ll disappear into thin air
but my lungs are getting strongerMy lungs have gotten stronger.
I won’t stay a moment longer.Because I can’t breathe your hot air.
No more oxygen masks
because I’m through with thin air.You’re out of thin air.
My lungs have gotten stronger.And you’ve disappeared into thin air.
Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com
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A Poem: Me Me Me Meme
Posted at 9:50 am , on June 27, 2020
Me me me meme
me gets me news from a memeYou you you youth
you ignore the truthWe we we Westerners
we look like misinformed questionersMe me me meme
open the economy
You you you youth
keep hanging out in groups
We we we wealthy
don’t care if the masses are healthyMe Me Me Me
and
You You You You
and
We We We Weare fucked.
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A Poem: When It’s Time to Kneel
Posted at 8:09 am , on May 30, 2020
When it’s time to Kneel, Keep in mind how black men Kneeling in peaceful protest made you feel.
When it’s time to Kneel, Keep in mind how history Kindles and spins a white, privileged wheel.
When it’s time to Kneel, Keep in mind how mothers Keening over their murdered black sons’ graves is real.
Because it’s never time to kneel on a black man’s neck on the asphalt. It’s not their fault.
Because when are you going to stand up instead of just kneel?
Because it’s time for you to stand up, Neil.
Stand up, Neil.
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