comprende

there are only so many hours in the day, touche
michael buble
and i've only got so many more breaths in me, boopy
doopy
i keep doing
and then learning
i can't seem to do both at the same time
life is like (yes, cliche but true) a roller coaster
sometimes i'm flyin having too much sun
sometimes i'm better off viewing from the ground
like a faun too beautiful for its own comprehension
the meaning of my life defiantly defies explication, and even as soon as i think i get it... it's gone

the minus sign

People are so afraid of negativity
Including me
So hard to figure out what to do with it… distract it? Deal with it? Dwell in it? Ignore it?
So much harder to just be with it, and wait, until an answer comes, of its own accord.
We all want answers, instant answers.
We all want to be up, and cool, and hip, and trendy, and now
Nobody wants to be stuck and old and unkempt and hairy
But usually it’s only after you’ve let your hair get too long and greasy
And your clothes worn out too many times
That you begin to remember what it was that the last person said
And you actually connect a train of thoughts
So that your world makes sense and you’ve accepted it, all of it.

spilling beans

The cold and dusty shoulder of solitude
Can just kiss my untanned a*&
That is what I say

I have realized that my gift
Is to speak the truth (sometimes)
That nobody, not even I, wants to hear

like the dark-clothed, blank staring old man in my classroom who most folks turned their nose at...
by the end of the quarter
he was the one that most raised a glass to

I may not always tell the truth,
But most of the time
It’s harder not to.

jeans

i found myself on the floor
in the form of a pair of jeans
and i picked myself up.

It’s morning and I smell sage
Ants floating over pebbles
Aspen leaves wink
Water rushes down a bathtub of a stream
My stomach is empty
Hair stringy and clumped
The aspen are still flaunting themselves like sideshow carlot advertizing schemes
My little boy asks, what are you writing?
The time I tell him.
He shrugs his shoulders, hmmph
And he leaves.

poem dedicated to the art of being stopped at a light

you become a kid again
all that waiting around puts you in tune with the world:
hot stale sun, buzzing grass...
i can start my engine now but the way back to my ole self is gone.

Notes on teaching
To be a good teacher, you have to…
- Have nice breath
- Look people in the eye when they speak
- Ignore people who are speaking while somebody else is speaking
- Listen to people who are speaking while somebody else is speaking
- Respond to people who are interrupting somebody else only if they are really contributing something worthwhile to the conversation
- Ignore the troublemakers unless they are truly more like funmakers
- If the troublemakers are just being troublemakers because they are insecure, ignore them until they do something positive and worth rewarding by giving it attention
- Basically being a teacher is like being a parent
- Or being a good human being
- It’s hard to be a good teacher
- There are plenty of times I want to crawl in a hole and die
- But when it’s good, it’s good… like sex
- And when it’s bad like bad sex, it hurts
- When you’re teaching and you’re in the moment, in the groove, energy is given and taken freely in the room, creativity happens, learning for everyone takes place including the teacher
- When you’re not in the moment, or you’re in the wrong moment, it’s a sucky place to be
- How to get back into the right moment? Take a deep breath. Switch gears. Call it like it is. Think positive. Keep moving forward. Don’t beat yourself up. There’s always another curve to go around down the road. Nothing stays the same. Don’t get hung up on it. drink some coffee. Ask THEM a question. Get the heat off of you for a while.
- If you forget that you’re teaching and you’re just being… that’s when you are the best teacher of all.
- And if you get them to forget that you’re teaching, better yet still.