The shape of this idea
is new,
resolving conceptually around
a
round
never-ending
novelty
what the mirror reveals of me.
The shape of this idea
greets daily astonishment
as “You can be” turns out to be true.
Who knew?
poem- inviting trouble February 14, 2017
You see,
sometimes,
you can only handle
a little bit of trouble,
a tidbit,
not a whole,
irritating basket of it.
Sometimes,
you can manage a small inconvenience
a tiny irritation.
You’re the whole basket, baby.
Okay, so no one tells you,
that the braying of your voice hurts their ears,
the ignorance of your opinions hurts their brains,
the narcissism of your monopolizing every conversation
just makes them want to scream at you,
to
just
shut
up.
(That would surely hurt your feelings,
and you want to be nice).
Instead,
you just aren’t invited to the party.
Your presence is a pain that is more pleasant to avoid
if it’s at all possible.
What to do
when you learn of an event and you’re sad to be left out?
What to do, indeed.
Sometimes
you can suck it up and face the pain,
but sometimes,
you can’t.
.
.
.
(Deliberately playing with the subject of the ‘you’ throughout this poem about a catch-22 situation).
poem- walk for refuge February 8, 2017
During the election
we heard some American folks joke
If he wins, we’re moving to Canada!
and we laughed.
But
four hundred and ten
have really done it.
Last week alone
twenty-two
walked for frozen miles
in minus twenty Celsius
to cross the border
to freedom in
(really?)
Manitoba.
They lost fingers and toes to frost bite,
but not their lives to the sound bites
of a xenophobe.
.
.
http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/manitoba/refugees-emerson-border-manitoba-1.3923747
http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/manitoba/refugees-frostbite-highway-75-winnipeg-1.3923430
poem- ominous February 7, 2017
The sky could not be bluer
turquoise and ocean and bright summer day
captured on the snow piled like icing on the trees,
but on the horizon
a wall of charcoal grey
hints at a blizzard on its way.
I watch through the window and hope
I’m home before it hits.
poem- waiting February 3, 2017
The ground hog said spring was coming
but the snow falling outside my window
begs to differ.
poem-inaccurate January 31, 2017
You hear a story
and cling to this narrative,
gripping each element as deep truth
fundamental reality
excuse for your frailty
But it’s fiction
and no matter how loudly you shout
your warped interpretation
insist that white is black,
it won’t transform into fact.
It will only dance to a rhythm of jack boots,
and the sounds of breaking glass.
quote-wishes January 26, 2017
How could I wish you ill?
Are you not the worst I could have wished for you?
Natalie Barney, Critical Studies
poem-instructions January 25, 2017
So much difficulty
is avoided
when we read the instructions.
If you don’t know what is asked
why do you try
to answer?
.
.
I’m marking exams at the moment and astonished at how often answers in no way reflect the question asked.
poem-unrecognizable January 24, 2017
You don’t even look like
the person I used to know, any more
I don’t know what’s happened.
Did you get taller somehow?
Ah
No.
We don’t do that
when we’re this age.
poem- believed me January 20, 2017
I believed me
when I told myself I couldn’t do it.
I believed me
when I told myself nothing could be done.
I believed me
when I told myself nothing could change.
I believed me,
but I was wrong.
Shawn L. Bird 