The Good Word of Sprout

Location: Chicago, Illinois, United States

Thursday, December 15, 2011

A Morning in Kindergarden

There are deep dark circles under my eyes. My hair is clean but uncombed. My voice reverberates around my hollow insides.

It's Bunny Day. The children hop around the room. They can wiggle their noses, but are not allowed to speak.

The notion of jumping or hopping is intolerable. So is the fluorescent light. So is everything but the children and the teacher. She is innocent like them. The snack is baby carrots.

The teacher offers me a paper cup of apple juice. I take it and wait. I don't know why I'm here. I might as well learn something.

Thursday, December 08, 2011

It's an almost poem

With breath control there is no idea, emotion, or object you cannot dissolve into the rest. It brings the white blankness where there is peace.

A bush sprouts tiny overnight. Soon comes its prime, its beautiful days -- days, days, days fragrant with musk. The worms have done their job.

A man walks his smiling, sharp-toothed dog, excitement on a leash, excrement on a leash, the cause and effect of sniffing.

One with nature, the homeless still aren't heard.