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Words from a bar, written Sept. 30th
Two pages’ worth of thoughts and poems and poem-shaped things, written Saturday night while I a) decompressed from work and b) wanted to write in my poetry notebook again after months not doing so:
Pretentious
by Christopher Walsh, 7/30/2023-9/30/2023
trees
cannot imagine
walking
so we must
imagine for them
Far
To see through the sky ( Read more... ) -
Life in Two-Day Chunks
A recent COVID rule-of-thumb I’d heard was that if you’re infected with a current strain, you’ll most likely show signs of infection and illness in two days. This is, in a bass-ackwards way, an improvement on the beginning of U.S. COVID infections back in spring 2020: it was possible you’d go two weeks from initially getting exposed to getting sick ( Read more... ) -
September 8th, 2023, somehow
Paused
by Christopher Walsh, 9/8/2023
did I
give
my mind
a nap -
Out-Of-Context Theater.
“Sports: a great supplier of butt.” -
Breakin’ the law, breakin’ the law*
* ignoring certain guidelines due to circumstancesSince mid-June, my commute’s been disrupted by the MAX Red Line being closed between Gateway Transit Center and PDX. Come October it’ll reopen, with (finally!) two tracks all along that part of the route, but until then, TriMet is using shuttle buses on that stretch. It makes the most sense, ( Read more... ) -
Maskless
Today I rebelled. Or let my guard down. Or adjusted. Maybe ( Read more... ) -
A short, short poem
Mea Culpa
by Christopher Walsh, 6/23/2023
I used to care about that? Really?
Really?
…really? -
Remembered.
I still heed advice from someone who died 31 years ago ( Read more... ) -
So.
What’s been up with me ( Read more... ) -
A Pause In Life; a Pause In Blogging
Stuff’s happened. Two big Stuff’s. Wait, the grammar’s wrong. I don’t really care, though ( Read more... )