Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on February 12, 2012
I am Walter
I have always been
Always ready to be
Inescapably me
Alarm clock buzz
I am Walter
Singing in the shower
Waiting for my tea
Here and there
Everywhere
I am Walter
Consistently
In the car
On the train
At every turn
I am Walter
I am Walter
Can't you see
The fun it is for me
Each and every day
Submitted by Neil McKay on February 10, 2012
There is a time capsule in the back yard at 10011 16th Avenue South
In the South End of Seattle
Just south of South Park
Off Des Moines Way South.
I buried it some 40 years ago
It contained traces of my life
Small items I thought were telling
Of what life was like on the Duwamish River
In the shadow of the Space Needle
On a hill overlooking Boeing Field
Under the landing strip of Sea-Tac Airport
Where the 727s dipped low every ten minutes
In truth, those landmarks were far away
My world was bordered by Dominic's Shop Rite to the north
Boulevard Park Public Library to the south.
We had no East and West, that's how small we were.
But we were a place and a time
And I marked that time in that place
Forty years ago
In a tin Band-Aid box.
Submitted by Jennifer Dixey on February 10, 2012
here is what it is:
joy found in
the act of translating
perception to expression.
a rebirth of early
childhood, perhaps,
saying our first
syllable, speaking
our first words. we
come back to this,
constructing poetry,
like nursery blocks
pure color, red/blue/yellow
click/tap together
pure sound, see how they
fit? pure form.
knocked down, re-
stacked, again and again
for our pleasure. and
then, magic: someone else
reads, or hears,
re-lives that
re-living. says
ah. yes.
Submitted by Jennifer Dixey on February 10, 2012
i'm going to write a poem
i said
nature laughed
i am a poem
nature said
Submitted by Benjamin Gorman on February 8, 2012
Once more
reaching into cold depths
fingerless hands numbly rooting
blind mole sniffing out plunder
the bulb's out (still)
so it's search by feel
familiar and (oh god yes please) unfamiliar
texture shape taste
there must (I tell me)
there must be
something in here
this box cannot be empty
something overlooked
in previous raids
image analogy feeling glimmer
something
sense memory
or lingering emotion
one shapely wisp of frosty mist
curling away from it
this is not an empty box
motionless with cold disuse
life has emerged here
before this
so reach in once more
feel for the new thing never felt
the gift
the spark
rub off the icy crust
warm it with hands
with breath
ignite the poem into life
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