Three Poems

by Andrew Weatherhead

Cul-de-Sac


Things were different then,
and things would be different again. 

In the past I would have left it at that,
sad. But now I’m overly complex. 

I can’t rest. The Anticipator,
the Intelligent Bullet, the Aeroterre.

A now we know we’ve known.
But all my life I’ve wanted to wait.

Wait and waited for a want that, when
it will arrive, will have been earned. 

The horizon, yeah. A tombstone, sure.
I’m a thinker, yasss... Yuck

Yuck...  Cough... Sneeze...
Yo, pursuer of dreams. Excuse me.




Carbon Monoxide


Nature inches in (“inches”)
Leaving the gas on
And closing the door

Inevitability sweeps
Thought (a “construction”) aside
But that’s ok—

I elect intimacy
And you welcome (“inculcate”)
This sear evening w/ laundry

The moment congeals
Songbirds (“juncos”) in the yard
An ice cream truck out front

But the sweet and humble
Dolly Parton (“Randy”)
Is my master

Let’s leave it at that...
The displacement of air (“sound”)
And the smell




Gravity


the poems were bad
and waiting

in different threads
in a different sphere

my only weapon
a congeniality
I couldn’t control

cuz it ain’t no time
negation insists

using our words

a little of this &
too much of that

then the sores came back,
a source of comfort

I gave them four stars
dwarves

Andrew Weatherhead is a writer and artist from Wilmette, Illinois.

Artwork by Andrew Weatherhead