I've just been to Africa.
Our trip was a rush job.
In a hazardous and chaotic cosmos,
it's another world. Entirely.
If you go to another planet,
don't plan on staying long,
they're slippery and dangerous.
I'm back now—to my weird little life,
where I’ve always been netted and safe—
in classes—swaddled in color-coded calendars.
I like books - book books, paper books.
There's something memorable to durable goods,
the physical, a hex to text you can touch.
School requires a quiet disappearance.
All at once but nothing dramatic,
just small, measurable units
moment by moment edits.
A pleasure removed here or postponed there,
things renamed “inefficient” mostly.
One can lose oneself in self-improvement.
As you get better at academic measurables,
everything else suffers.
You can streamline your personality,
to disengage with distractions—
no matter how cute they are.
.
.
Songs for this:
TiK ToK by Kesha
2 days into college by Aimee Carty
Man, What’s the Rush?
Music swirls like a summer storm, each note becoming a new form/
The horn speaks free in smoky jazz club rooms/
where jazz shadows sway and silence drinks in Monk's play/
Syncopated verses leap/
Sonic abstract jazz finds new life in innovative, revolutionary organic jazz, steppin' out into a new cookin' funk orchestration/
Guitarist John McLaughlin Grooves awaken in the mind, and meditation settles there/
a quiet home within the soul that is reelin' in the feelin'/
Man, that's something' else/
You bein' a cosmic swing jazz philosopher sing speaking' the hip dialogue of Ken Nordine/
In the clutter of a jazz-lit life/
art becomes a quiet riot rebellion/ and the work of our political jazz masters hang deep in our horn playin' activism of truth/ ya dig?
Here, in this sound stage of life
The day keeps shouting/
It has to be done/
But the horn bends time and asks, Man, what’s the rush?
Your smile like morning flowers
Your nails like dripping blood
Diving deep into Your smile
Swallow each and every moment
I love they way you bite your lip
The moment You realize I made it thick
The meal I give to you today
I gratefully devour thy
Your taste like raspberries in summers heat
Your my favourite little treat
I have made a mess in your garden
Let me plant some seeds again
eyes gaze from cornfield
then rush of brown fur across road
fawns' slow reaction
Get a room, size, two metres by one
To avoid an accident you might have to run
following the rush
there's a button to flush
Offloaded, that urgency really wasn't much fun
Summer's rush of rain is no match for freshly sharpened mower blades
Too much work
Too little outcome
As if trying to hold water in a fork
And the worst is yet to come.
I rush here, I rush there
But the roads I take lead nowhere.
Everybody asks for more care
And nobody tries to be fair.
When can my mind have some peace?
When can my body have some rest?
Will my worries ease and decrease
And will everything turn for the best?
Initiated by his 1848 discovery
the California Gold Rush peaked in '49
at John A. Sutter's Mill
where finding flecks of 96% pure 23 carat fine
in the American River muck
Marshall exclaimed, 'I have found it, it's mine!'
for altho' a carpenter from New Jersey in Coloma
on 24th January he was in luck
and overcome at the site of his find
in total amazement he was orestruck
When classes break
we’re on the clock
don’t jam up the hall
don’t stand there and talk
Get out of my way
I have places to go
why the fecking-feck
are people so slow?
I hop down escalators
I fairly run down halls
I get bored in the elevators
I bounce off the walls
I plan ahead
I plot my course
through crowds I thread
it’s almost a sport
Tik tock people
no, not the app
stop acting like sheeple
I need a coffee between classes.
Excuse me,
I don’t mean to whine
but if you’re not at the front of the line
you can run out of time.
Once you can order, there’s no time to play
“Un croque-monsieur et un grand crème, s'il vous plaît”
and it isn’t a moment before you’re on your way.
as I’m sipping my coffee
students full up the line
as I savor my sandwich
some will run out of time
This swarm of students
are supposed to be brilliant
but they’re too cool to hurry
I shrug - c'est la vie
.
.
Songs for this:
Le Breakfast Club de Paris by Gabrielle Chiararo
C'est Si Bon by In-Grid
.
.
breakfast order:
croque-monsieur = a grilled ham & cheese breakfast sandwich
grand creame = a large coffee with heavy cream
I just hit the jackpot.
Love me some sugar in my coffee.
Great start to my day!
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
tides rush in... then back out…
one moment certainty… the very next doubt
Two grandmas rushed in setting a fast pace
For this grocery store shopping cart race
Their faces angry, occasionally flashing an evil eye,
Needing ingredients to bake their homemade pumpkin pie
They’re on a search for pumpkin puree
If not there, their holiday it would delay
Their carts were lite, their minds set
Crashing into each other's carts without regret
Their glasses fogged, their sneakers low
They were unabashed to let the curse words flow
A wobbled wheel here, a slow mover there
The last ingredients they were unwilling to share
There’s no way they’d buy a store made pie
They’re too proud to serve such a lie
With hiked up pants and a sweater vest
These two grandmas were put to the test
Who’d get the last can and be the hero of the party.
While the other would cry “you old farty”
But what’s that coming down the isle
The clerk sporting a fresh new style.
He’s carrying boxes of purée for all to adore
The women still cursing as they head for the door
Both holidays were saved from critical disaster
But we’ll never know which grandma was faster.
Stop and stay a while ~
considering we are one with the universe
there's never any real rush
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
You will have to paint this, you’ll have to clean that
I sit in the sun, soaking it up like a tabby cat
No one can rush me, I’m retired you see
On May 31st, I will be seventy-three.
Rhythm of a River
Soothing
whispers in spring;
with rolling summer rains
revolves to robust roaring rush,
riding on crest of rough rocks on its bed,
chills down to soft rippling rhythm
with arrival of fall,
then silent and
soothing.
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