We wish, we see, we think, we find, we feel—we are

Summer WriteWeek 2025 Group Poem

Alternative title: 5 people create 5 lines while one guy just talks about sandwiches

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I wish I could become a flea leaping into the air
I wish I could be an eagle soaring through the sky
I wish I could write as fast as a peregrine falcon
I wish I could bounce on a soft and cushiony cloud
I wish I could have the screech of a howler monkey

I am crazy like pizza being smeared on a wall
I am beautiful, the sunrise over the beach
I am elegant as a dancer
I am big as a whale
I am a cat, graceful and sly
I am sharp as a fox

I see three even lines etched into the side of a grey car
I see rosemary that wraps around butterfly weed as if trying to strangle it
I see five pairs of blue sneakers and one of flowery rainboots
I see two trees that court death with every moment
I see the not-quite-even stride of trying to forget

I feel like an over-stuffed tote bag that is too full, still holding together anyway
I feel like an eagle, soaring above the clouds
I feel like I have just eaten a huge cotton candy, with extra sugar on top
I feel like a giant ship lost at sea
I feel calm, a sleepy duckling in a picturesque pond

I think thoughts
I think, “Why was I created?”
I think babies secretly know everything, but take a vow of silence until they turn three and forget everything
I think that the way to define sandwich is to use the cube rule which classifies food based on the location of starch (like bread or a tortilla) on the six sides of a cube, defining a “sandwich” as any food with starch on the top and bottom (two opposing sides), and that adding or removing starch turns the food item into one of these five other options: toast (starch on one side), taco (three sides in a U shape), sushi (four sides in an “O” shape), quiche (starch on five sides), and calzone (starch on all sides)
I think I misunderstood the assignment

I find the world as dark as ever with only a single candle still burning
I find the cool breeze of summer blowing through my hair
I find fiery sun burning the pail of water turning it into a warm fog
I find the curtains in my room blowing as wild as a snake
I find that I begin every line as “I find”

I wish, I see, I think, I find, I feel—I am

Photo credits:

Stones Photo by Nandhu Kumar

Gallery top: James Wheeler, Debra Manny Mosley, Colin Watts
Bottom: Ollylain, Sixteen Miles Out