Sunday, March 15, 2020

Up in the Air Prompt

Write a poem. Look at the world. It feels good.


  1. lumbering C-17
    shook my house
    missing the heartstop

  2. Wait
    look/a red velvet chair missing a leg
    yeah, just like the one in my night terror
    it was such a drag to be evicted by the landlord (in my dream)

    but, still the chair yearning to be
    please don’t let me become
    landfill vapor
    I evaporate as well

    but the chair waiting there for"Riviera" recovery
    to avoid junk yard anonymity
    somewhere between the Claremont colleges, and "The Hat" on central



  3. a bell
    of blue sky

    common cold
    or something more?

  4. Up in the Air

    It’s all up in the air
    The days are spent wondering what to do
    Now that everything has unraveled
    and life has become immediately unscheduled
    No plans, no routine, no “Take a look at today's agenda.”
    No morning greeting or attendance or “Who’s having hot lunch?”
    No recess breaks or “Put your chair on top of your desk.”
    No daily reflections and “See you tomorrow!”

    It’s all up in the air
    The hours are spent without students
    Without pencils moving across paper
    Without math lessons on variables
    Though variables are fitting right now
    Not knowing what the next week holds.
    We have to hang onto variables,
    to deal with variables,
    learn about how to use the concept in a life without normalcy.

    It’s all up in the air
    The minutes are spent worrying about what is happening
    in the world beyond the front door
    I should walk
    Look above the tree tops and electrical lines
    And try to take it in
    To make sense of the surreal
    Try to stabilize my fears.

    It’s all up in the air
    The seconds are spent on soapy hands,
    Twenty moments
    To think about washing the potential away
    Over and over
    You have to do this,
    Have to,
    Each time you touch the outside
    Where the air is.

  5. “A Plan”

    Constant communication
    Contracted hours and
    Hours spent on a
    Plan, and then
    Because, on

    There is a mist that falls and cools and keeps us in
    Clouds under water and dark trees dropping limbs.
    But I can move with a rhythm where the rhythm is the plan.
    So I run and remain
    Tall under all this sky.