267/365

we played music. that was good.
we got bad news. back to lock down.
we can’t live like this. no birthdays.
no band practice. no dinners. no hotels.
no boats. no parks. no rest. no joy.
we can’t live like this.

210/365

two all nighters
learning about brave spaces
diversity, equity and inclusion
have left me disoriented
and cotton headed.

spent time with friends
on their deck
eating cheese and cake,
drinking wine
and complaining about
the pandemic and
feeling hopeful about
the future.

these days
aren’t miraculous,
fun or even memorable,
but we share cooking tips
and how we spend our hours.
they are the lives
we’re forced to live and that’s
all we can really do.

166/365

it’s mid-june and i’m
talking to my students
about motivation:
extrinsic vs intrinsic.

seeing photos of friends
travelling— on lakes, in boats,
at baseball games, maskless.
free.

one comes from within.
one arises from external factors.
one brings personal satisfaction.
one gains external rewards and
avoids punishment.  

there is still work to be done
on this perpetual wednesday,
and there are no lakes,
no boats, no baseball games
in the near future.

another summer unraveling
hoping to discover this
deep-rooted inspiration.

things about things

a few weeks ago,
before the world broke,
i came across a young boy
crying because he had just killed a bird.

“i didn’t mean to,”
he whimpered earnestly.

but the bird was dead:
bloodied beak
snapped neck
crushed wing.

it’s tiny legs
limp and smashed
into the concrete
like damp matchsticks.

his friends circled
the scene
like giddy vultures
confused by blood
and remorse
and endings
they were never equipped
to process.

“it’ll be okay.
it was an accident.
there’s nothing you
could have done.
go play.
don't worry about it.”

i took care of the corpse
and watched the children
return to play and not worry about it.

that was a few weeks ago
before the world broke,
at a school
where we naively tried to teach kids
things about things.