Bulls Bard--The Verses
  • About
  • 2016-17 Season
  • 2015-16 Season
    • Summer 2016
  • 2014-15 Season
    • Summer 2015
  • Store
  • Contact

Game 84

4/20/2015

1 Comment

 

Round One - Game Two
CHI 91               MIL 82

Neil: This team can’t beat you with talent or depth, so they just...
Stacey: I call it muddying the waters
I can swim,
But I’m not at home in the water
like some people.

I’m always very aware
of my clumsiness
and the danger--
lurking.

As a kid,
I would have nightmares
where I would have to accept
my drowning--
after fighting it
and fighting it.

Now I know these dreams
were about death--
not water.

But
for a while,
water would trigger
that dream feeling--
that panic.

I would face my mortality
every time my
head went under.

A shower
like a car
dipping suddenly--
A sickening rush.

But I wouldn't let it stop me
from living--


Snorkeling in the Caribbean--
Jumping in strange muddy rivers
on hot Texas road trips.

Stakes is high
like airplanes--
that’s life.

I close my eyes
and float,

Getting lost in even the muddiest water
as if it were the sky.

1 Comment

Game 83

4/18/2015

0 Comments

 

Round One - Game One
CHI 103               MIL 91

Not too long ago
I read some
Thing about lions

About how there aren't many
Older males
In the wild

They die quick

Food is scarce
In the wild

And food is for the Alpha
And his children
And the females

Who hunt
And bear the young

And the rest
Have to live off scraps--
Or die

Scraps
Fought over
With the scavengers
That travel in packs

And most males starve
Or kill each other
Fighting for what’s left

But some survive this way
For years

Learning to live off little
And to fight off the packs
Of vultures and jackals

Getting stronger
And meaner
While the alpha
Gets fat
0 Comments

Game 82

4/15/2015

0 Comments

 

CHI 91               ATL 85

I only read the sports section.  It’s the only section I trust to be the truth.
There used to be something
called a newspaper

Third person
objective
supposedly
(but not actually
of course)

Hand-held campfires

Elders passing on
the most important stories of the day
supposedly
(but not actually
of course)

A slow motion Jacob’s Ladder
falling horizontally
and made from the molted skin
of long-dead snakes

A borderline mystical
piece of garbage

And they were everywhere

Like a secular (kind of)
disposable (sort of)
Torah (or something)

Hold up
Fold up
Leave behind

A strange clumsy elegance to it

Like wrapping cables
properly
or tying a tie

A simple-enough-seeming dance
I could never
all the way
master

Like the electric slide
or smoking a cigar
or shuffling cards cool


like they do in the movies
0 Comments

Game 81

4/13/2015

0 Comments

 

CHI 113               BKN 86

I read once
the most popular card-game
in America is
Solitaire.

Pretty powerful metaphor, that one.

However it is
we choose to approach things,
we are a certain
undeniable
Alone.

Every second.

Even in a crowd.
Even in an intimate moment between lovers.

Even when we believe
We are playing against
One another.


In winning 
and losing.

Always.


At best,
each situation
carries with it
a pattern of tones and lights
that we must match,
or express,

or else
deal with that dreaded buzzer.
0 Comments

Game 80

4/11/2015

1 Comment

 

CHI 114               PHI 107

We used to have a pet shark.

He was very
    very
         friendly--

For a shark.

When we’d take him to the park
Kids would want to pet him--
Play with him.

Does he bite?
    they asked.

Of course he bites,
    we would say.

He is a shark,
     after all.


There was a teeny tiny bug
flying around my face
for the better part of fifteen minutes

This morning

Every time I thought I had shooed it away
it would pop back up
between my eyes
and my focus

This thing was small as shit
but it was doing its thing--
walking on my glasses--
driving me crazy

I killed it
eventually
but--jesus christ
did it beat the odds

1 Comment

Game 79

4/9/2015

0 Comments

 

CHI 89               MIA 78

Recently,
On our family vacation,
My mother held a meeting
To discuss her dying.

She is not dying now, but
It’s important to talk
About these things--
She says.

There are systems in place--
Forms to fill out,
Meant to reflect
The complexity
Of human emotion--

The complexity of fear.

A sliding scale
Turned binary.

No middles or maybes
For my mother.

On or off--
Life or death.

Simple.
Dramatic.

Having grown up
Raised by a generation
Who believed
All they had to fear was fear, itself--

She believed it.

And developed a keen fear
Of fear itself.

Terrified.

The last boogeyman.

Fear itself--
Lurking in the shadows,
Following down dark streets,
Cutting the brake lines,
Battling on building tops.

A lifetime of running
From running.


Hiding 

From hiding.

Scaring her to death.

0 Comments

Game 78

4/8/2015

0 Comments

 

CHI 103               ORL 105

The Loquat (or Japanese Plum) is a hearty, cold-tolerant, fruit-producing evergreen tree native to Texas
There is a loquat tree in my front yard.

It produced fruit--
Sweet tiny yellow plums--
For most of the first year
I lived here.

Making summer tolerable.

The sweet sticky-fingered finish-line
To every race home.

And then, suddenly,
It stopped.

Hasn't made fruit in three
Drought-filled
Years.

It’s flowered a few times.
A whisper--
Reminding me
Of something.

Far away.

Capable of so much more
Than casting this shadow--
Throwing this shade.

But then…
Nothing.

Pedals drop
Leaving an empty nub--
A broken promise.

Anger turned to
Grief to
Acceptance (however that goes)
Until I was grateful for
The memory of the fruit--
A quiet ghost--
and the flower, itself.

But this has been a rainy spring
On the tail-end
Of a long
Long drought.

And somehow,
Everything is different.

This time--
A memory returning--
Hard and green and patient,
Fruit.

I can almost taste it.

0 Comments

Game 77

4/5/2015

0 Comments

 

CHI 94               CLE 99

As a coach
I always struggled
To make my kids believe
Close games were theirs to win

Hard to inspire desire
To teach entitlement

Some kids believe
That they deserve everything

Some kids don’t

Sometimes
The only difference
Between king and kid
Is what we call ourselves
While we play

0 Comments

Game 76

4/3/2015

0 Comments

 

CHI 88               DET 82

Detroit and Chicago 
were once cities known for their factories and slaughterhouses
2:22 left in the first
Pistons over the foul limit
Bulls in the bonus

The whistle
A relief
To everyone--
A chance to breathe

10 men
Slowly walk the length of the floor
Toward the free throw stripe

Still very early
In what will be
A long grinding night

A few years back
Taking a road trip with her best friend
From childhood
My mother
Found herself in a Memphis hotel lobby

Making small talk
With the stranger
In the Bulls shirt

Oh, are you a Bulls fan?
I’m visiting from Chicago

Well, actually, Ma’am,
I’m one of their coaches

She saw them

Filing out--
Narrow elevator
To Narrow bus

Giant
Elegant
Beasts

But men

Scarred
Scabbed
Bleeding men

Responding to her thank yous
With nods and smiles

They all seemed so tired-- she said
Every one of them was limping

0 Comments

Game 75

4/1/2015

1 Comment

 

CHI 91               MIL 95

Cornered animals
Act very different
Than not-cornered animals

Man and wasp
Most often sting
From fear

Did you know that a rabbit
Being hunted
Near death
Lets out a loud
Shrill scream

Hoping to scare away the hunter

A once in a lifetime sound
Twice, if you’re lucky

My first year teaching
I had a 9th grade girl

Tiny
Stick of dynamite

Walking in late
Smacking and snarling
On the way to her desk

First kid I had to pull in the hall
For a private conversation

“Why do you even come to school?
I mean--what are you doing here?”

I thought I was so smart

“This is where I eat.”

The answer c
old
Immediate
Truth

I could feel our size difference then

Me
Towering over her
Casting a cartoon shadow
Clearly Goliath

She
a coiled spring
A frog’s tongue
A poisonous dart

“Well
Shit
Sorry”

Trying to make myself small
Trying to not be seen as a predator
Trying to absorb the reality of my new life

The next few months
Before she dropped out
To give birth
To her step-father’s baby

One last piercing “Hoorah!”
From a cornered bunny

Hunted
And near death

1 Comment
<<Previous
Forward>>

    Author

    Poet Laureate of the
    Chicago Bulls

    Archives

    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015

    RSS Feed

Proudly powered by Weebly