reading you makes me want to write, then write some more
that you were able to say it just so pushes me to plow ahead
to speak the nonsense things while sitting in my bed
you help me drift and sift through words lingering in the air
with hopes they might land lightly on the page
for what you wrote has become my nightly stage
When The Gun Spoke
trigger
pull it
or don’t
i’m not in charge
it is the bullet
no, it is your hand
no, your fingers
they are needed
for me
to work
no, it is your eyes
to see
to aim
to know what to look at
no, it is your mind that
decides
to grip me
buy me
shoot me
no, it is your arm
no, it is the muscles
that have power
to hold steady
to kill
but whatever you do
don’t blame me
i didn’t do it
Remembering Mr. DeLong: 1946-2023
I attended Taylor Elementary School in Arlington, Virginia during the late 1970’s into the mid-1980’s. I had some incredible teachers at Taylor. Very high on that list was Mr. DeLong (Mr. D). He was my physical education teacher and had played college basketball and baseball at George Washington University. His approach to PE was methodical; he was so dedicated to the Presidential Fitness Test, Field Day competitions, and all of the details that went into games like dodgeball and earth ball. I remember his deep love of basketball and can still picture his smooth jump shot. After I graduated from college, I came back to visit with Mr. D. We shot hoops for part of an afternoon, and I enjoyed just being near his calm energy. A couple of years later I taught my very first class of students at Malcolm X Elementary School in San Francisco. With those 4th graders I went by Mr. D, in honor of Mr. DeLong.
You can read his obituary here: https://www.dignitymemorial.com/obituaries/arlington-va/jeffery-delong-11255200?utm_source=obit_alerts&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=obit_detail&utm_content=decedent_name
Remembering Gordon Lightfoot: 1938-2023
Gordon Lightfoot will forever be on the soundtrack of my childhood.
The Old House: 1978-2023
this is the place
where i once lived
basement tv, saturday sugar
cereal, endless ping pong
mowing the lawn and
shooting driveway basketball hoops
sledding as a child
reading by the fireplace
blasting the beasties upstairs
on the old stereo
ice cream birthday cakes
hide and go seek
learning how to shave
and juggle bean bags
talent shows with sunglasses
and the elvis moves
staring at jumping squirrels
outside my bedroom window
a home once ours
now is no more
Surfers in Santa Cruz
Santa Cruz
By the Pacific
Wilder Ranch
Daniel W. Polk 