Dippy bird

I’m trying this new thing
whenever I see
a piece of trash, nestled
somewhere down at my feet

Little plastic corners wiggle
and faded letters speak
in sidewalk song, wind skitters
paper note and sheet

Sometimes, I play chaser
leaping out at prey
Sometimes, I feel guided
tractor beam, at play
Others, I’m watched
conscious
of what they’ll say
Me, alone
without a uniform
trying to save the day

How long
can I keep this up?
How much more
is there to say?

I keep finding things out of place
needing to make right
compelled, with counter weight
compulsively spun out
in perpetual motion
deckhand, desperately
tying down
what’s already floated away

After every Poem, I like to share how the imagery unfolded and my personal story behind the poem. This week, I’m previewing a new format where:

• the Poem is free for everyone

• the deeper personal story of the poem will be in a new “Back of the Page” section

  • For this Post, this will be free so you can see what I mean

  • Next Post, “Back of the Page” will be for Paid Subscribers

I feel this will be a good balance of sharing my work in a way that everyone can find and enjoy it while also allowing people to connect deeper if they feel compelled.

In my writing journey, I’ve found doing things first, then coming back and naming or making sense of them later is easier than putting the pressure on myself to have it figured out at the beginning. Now that I’ve put a name to these “Back of the Page” notes, I feel like I’ll be putting more energy into making them interesting and valuable for readers. I’ll be expanding the idea by sharing personal videos, photos I’ve taken, and personal stories behind the writing.

I look forward to hearing what you think. Thank you to the Paid Subscribers who are supporting the creation of these poems, songs, and stories today!

Back of the Page (free Preview)

It’s a beautiful season in The Hague, with birds singing sweet Spring melodies, nudging the little ones to paddle out and dive for bugs in the canals.

Their bright red heads and yellow manes popping up, fresh, in practiced movement. Modeling long white beaks on mom and dad.

In little brick corners, they nested.

Carrying whatever they could find.

What’s trash to us.

To them, was something useful.

Still, seeing them in this way felt unkind.

Ever since that day, I’ve developed a new compulsion:

To pick up trash along the way.

I’ll see a piece floating

or wedged in little green cages

held tight by leaf and stem.

Like being caught in a tractor beam, I’m drawn toward it.

Knowing if I ignore it, or leave it there, it’ll bug me.

So I pick it up…

and then I notice, a few steps away - another one!

Some faded plastic wrapper

I don’t recognize the brand

Trying to get away

Carried off by the wind

edges scraping pavement

The soft notes of a player piano

I pick that one up, too

and think I’m back on my way

Resuming whatever story I felt like enacting

But wait, there’s another - caught in a tangle

I free it, and stuff all three

in my back pocket

feeling self-conscious now, watched by others

how many pieces can I pick up

without looking out of place

and at what point, will I need a uniform?

I don’t even know what I’m doing

A Dippy Bird

heat engine in perpetual motion

at least until the water runs out

How many pieces of trash

would be enough?

Making right from wrong

Sorting out the problems

It seems endless

A great way

to lose myself in something greater

Deckhand tying knots

in a storm out at sea

Or frantically

attaching ballast to an airship

that’s already flown away.

Thank you for reading! Know someone that would like this kinda stuff? Please share it

What did the Dippy Bird bring up, for you?

Do you think we can make an impact by starting with something small, right in front of us?

Do you ever feel overwhelmed, like you’re expected to be a savior? Do we need to martyr ourself for these causes, or is there a middle way?

Let us know in the comments, please!