Eight Days

eight days 'til the train whistle
strikes our ears,
like the 'ol mice
who skip up and down
the fifty five year old
main

eight days 'til the singin'
soars, the dancin'
swings you 'bout;
the want, the need,
the pleasure
to join in every direction
fun.

Eight days 'til
our cash becomes magnetic
to magical merchandise
even to dreamy
steamy churros

c'mon eight days turn
into one, then we enter into
those cheery gates into the
adorned park
and hollar out of excited lungs!

Ode to Tennis

Meet racket;
The balls tutor.
Teaches how to
Send and return
Back.

Meet ball;
Held firmly
To be tossed
then transported.

Meet net;
The balls rival.
Goal is to soar above
Not to.

Serve
Swing
Grunt

Racket is pleased
That ball takes on
Such a task.

Logan Cemetery

Second time
All together
Now sunny
Then, murky:

ironic the rain,
stricter mood;
With loved ones gathered
Eyes on U.S. flag
Blanketing custom bed
Tears blended from
Falling wet.

To stay a while longer
Though the time would come
To join the earth,
Not him, but his body.

One year after
Stone of his favorite things
We gather in the sun
Much lighter mood.

June 5, 2010

Reel Cereal

Not popcorn but
Cereal in all
Varieties
For the reels

The least we could do
In loving return
Of the green bills

Chex squares-golf
Cinnamon toast crunch-prizes
Bran-plane rides
Raisins-dollar bills
Corn flakes-scrabble
Big bowl-big life

That is why our hands
Swim through
Mixing it all
For we share them all

Unzip bags
To hold all memories
zip, hold, later eat;
become part of him.

1555 River Bank

Come and see
the rivers shelter
each step aged
engraved weight of kin

Forest protecting the old
wood;
Its name is solitude
Its sound is beauty

Only company
Are birds, bugs
possibly fish.

They tell me what to write
not lost in this wilderness
but in creativity


June 10, 2010

Remember Me

Early year offered two lives.
One I knew, one I didn't,
I heard you were in it
I took it.

We became friends.

When I left from
two long months
I hoped to hear you

in my sleep, in the dark,
while humming the lullabies
we made;
being away makes me feel incompetent

my empty arms.

The life I knew greets me
I take it though I don't want to,
I miss you.

When you visited with
older eyes and ears
bottles fell out from open
smiling mouths,
did you know?

I remember.
My little friends
I often think of you.




June 1, 2010

He is The Bird

He is the bird; the same whom she spoils
with feed in her palm.
He travels to and fro the bird baths and
dinner plates.

He is each one who furthers her
knowledge of natures winged
messengers.
She is the fairy,
he is the bird.

He is the bird that flew past the
new front yard, she said, “I think he likes it”
she must know he is the bird.


Britney Jensen
May 25, 2010