The city is a grid
of lights projected
by man-made mountains
built of glass and steel;
they reflect, distorted
off the glass surface
of Lake Michigan.

Good morning

The sun rises
with heavy-eyed commuters,
homes filling with
the smell of coffee;
yesterday’s events are
brought inside, rolled
up in a blue plastic bag.

Soon the traffic on the Dan Ryan
will turn the stretch of road
into a temporary parking lot.

Life enters the veins
of downtown;
it heads down Michigan Avenue
to the heart of The Loop.

The ferris wheel at Navy Pier
begins to turn hypnotically,
attracting all walks of life.

A Muslim passes a Christian
on the street;
they smile at each other;
their backgrounds don’t matter.

Someone is calling;
someone is answering.
Today is the best day for one,
the worst day for another.

The day does its job to go on

Chicago fills its lungs,
then exhales life back home.
The sun colors buildings,
traces of day
to be soon replaced
by the form of lit office windows.

From a plane passing over,
the grid is a chessboard
waiting for the next day,
the next game.

Your mind has been
expanded
all of this time;

over-analyzation
has just clouded
your mind.

Elsdorf, Düsseldorf, Erbendorf, Greiz
Gengenbach, Hilchenbach, Kelsterbach, Schleiz
Siegburg, Lichtenberg, Wesenberg, Jülich
Schnackensee, Radensee, Dillensee, Munich

Delbrück, Kindelbrück, Bersenbrück, Sußen
Eibelstadt, Diemelstadt, Glückenstadt, Stößen
Traunstein, Taunusstein, Uffenheim, Zwönitz
Ziegenrück, Innenbrück, Osnabrück, Zöblitz

Wietmarschen-Schwartenpohlerbruch

High Anxiety
takes another look at the sprawling quilt of life
weighed down by pounds of gear
and wonders if leaping from the plane is worth the ride

It's funny
that you told me to shut up

after I said
that you talk too much.

bobs his head to a swinging beat
donning that same purple sweater
as we shake the music room
walls with each jazz-infused note

I've found that to live life
sans every regret
takes detection,
admittance,
and the strength to forget.

Make a mountain of math homework
seem merely a molehill.
Lay down the laws
of long division.

Teach yoga when we yawned,
sing loud when we slept.
Become a fellow fourth grader;
be the class clown.

Tie severed friendships
broken on the playground;
add new knots.
Be the judge,
but appoint us as jury.

Ease my fears
as the sky grew dark.
Let us listen to the radio
as New York burned.

Dare us to dig deeper, illuminate
our minds. Respect
our voices, accept our flaws.
And above all else,

let us teach her.



-With apologies to Elizabeth Homes