Tweet.

I've never done this before (and won't really be able to do it tonight) but there is a poetry party tonight at 6 (9 Eastern) here.  You can tweet your own lines or just sit back and read some interesting ideas.  I'll be interested to see what it's like.  More tomorrow.

The Weight

They walk with the weight of the world
on their feet
the weight of the world
pressing against the soles
of their souls
the weight of the world
they’re tired of waiting
the waiting
the waiting
the wait of the world
for the bus
with a sigh of the times
they board their bus
a sigh of the times
they sit back
as far back as possible
and time begins to fly
for everyone else in the world
except them
the weight of the world
pressing against the thin plush seats

Simile, you're on JTV...

I was working with a fourth grade class yesterday and they were learning about similes. Though I'm thrilled they are learning the basics, I was a little disappointed with the lack of imagination, and the lack of encouragement or inspiration they received. All the examples were pretty obvious and cliche. It reminded me of how powerful a good simile can be, and how I don't use it enough. today's fog was thick like cafeteria gravy the kind that you might lose a kid in...

I once was found...

I once was found but now am lost was fine, but now I see a prodigal son reunited only to find I was switched at birth with an Imam from Detroit so certain my of destiny only to lose reception in the spiritual bay bridge-tunnel. I see people around me fain confidence and then crack, I wonder why being confused is so socially distasteful? When I grow up I want to do something that pays very little and requires very few teachable skills. And I want to be the best at it. I don't even know how to know the things I need to know to know the one who puts these lines in my head.

Occupy what now?

Wondering about Occupy Wall Street?  Like, what are those people looking for?  Yeah, me too.  Seems like there is a lot of potential, but I just can't figure out what they want.

Today they released a 400+ page Poetry Anthology, here, and since I didn't really have time to read the whole thing, I made this word cloud from the text.  I was excited about the idea, but I was a little sad about how little it really says.  they "like, just want the world back".  There ya go.

A Translation

I've been wanting to try my hand at translating for a while, and I couldn't pass this one up. 

This is a song, from sort of a rap-reggaeton group called Calle-13, is about being Latin American, and I love some of the imagery.  It still sounds better in Spanish, but I like the way it came out in English too.

Latinoamerica

I am
I am what was dropped
I am what’s leftover after you were robbed
A village hidden in the mountains
my skin is like leather 

for whatever the weather
I’m a smoke factory
the hand of a field worker
for your consumption.

A mid summer cold front
like “Love in the Time of Cholera” brother.
The sun that gives birth as the day dies
to the best of sunsets.
I’m development live in the flesh
I’m dry-mouthed political discourse.

The prettiest faces that you’ve ever looked at
I’m a photo of someone who’s been kidnapped.
I’m the blood in your veins
that piece of earth that’s worth the work
I’m a basket of beans.
I’m Maradona chalking up two goals against England.
My mountain range is the backbone of the Planet.
I’m what my father taught me
if you don’t love your country
you don’t love your mother
I am Latin America
a people with no legs but still walking
You can’t buy the wind
You can’t buy the sun
You can’t buy the rain
You can’t buy the heat
You can’t buy the clouds
You can’t buy the colors
You can’t buy my happiness
You can’t buy my pain

Work in Progress

Here's a poem I'm still working on, but it's pretty relevant for the Easter season.  Thoughts?

“I saw him” said the blind man
“he knew about my sin” said a well known sinner, surprised.
and the rumors of a king began to be whispered
Sure, you’ve had presidents before
you’ve had governors and mayors and mothers and husbands or wives
but have  you had a king?
have you stood out under the reign of a king?
On the day he arrived
on a mighty stead
or was it a baby donkey?
it was a day when
palm readers and
palm weavers become
palm wavers in streets
throwing words they’d been saving in jars
for the day when a king would arrive
and when people laid down their reign coats
clearing the way for a new head of state
and really a king is a thing like no other being
the only one who can double jump backward
the one who’s winning any game of foursquare
defended by queens and bishops and pawns
this is no burger king
he’s a bread and wine king
a fish and loaves king
he’s a spit and mud king
a suffer and die king