Monday, April 13, 2015


April is National Poetry Month.

When my oldest kiddo was three, he went through a tornado phase. He dreamed of being a storm chaser. He dreamed of a life of adventure. Until a tornado whipped through our condo complex and changed his mind. Then he decided to be a volcanologist. Until the day he heard a documentary narrator state that most volcanologists meet an early end. When he turned five, he settled into the safer career path of game designer. Yesterday he told me he needs to find someone to negotiate a deal with Topps for a baseball card game he made up over the weekend. He keeps me busy, but his creative energy is contagious.

While Matthew was still in The Great Tornado Period of 2009, he created some digital art, named it F5 and asked me to write a poem to accompany it. Six years later, I still love the words, the boy and every thing about creating this with him.

In a flurry of surprise
and dust
and all the things
I didn't want
you swept in
and stirred things
--like a tornado,
its train whistle
in middle american
its arrival
in the } } h u s h { {
before we knew
what was
about to come upon us.
That is how you