The Tower Journal

Tim Williams


My Balloon Tugs at Me

Hundreds of voices rise and fall,
bodies move, in, out, all about.
I stare at the clown
holding a hundred balloons
who, walking on his toes,
nearly floats.

He spies me, small, astounded,
grins widely with fat red lips,
winks, pulls one out for me:
a blue balloon of Earth
with lands so strange.

An airplane flies
across untroubled skies,
a train runs over bridges,
mountains, plains.
A ship courses
atop placid ocean
to a sunny beach
with a giant coconut tree.

I feel lighter,
my balloon tugs at me,
soon we will fly.



March of the Red

We grace the homes we visit,
march to exhortations
of red armored guards
with massive flattened heads
sporting venomous mandibles.

With their large bodies
forming column boundaries
we scramble between to attack,
to forage for fresh food,
to find munchy meat,

rid houses of vermin,
collect vile squatters.
take our treasure to our cache.
House dwellers flee our stings
as we pursue the interlopers

like merciless bounty hunters
who crash through rooms, walls, doors.
We embalm the captured for dessert
while outside, residents celebrate,
dance with delight as they wait

for us to take the last of the unwanted
and march away to the next grateful home.
Those we do not visit wonder
at their ill fate, their fall from grace
and wail peals of lament and discontent.


Copyright © 2014 Tim Williams

Tim WilliamsTim Williams has been a bartender, sanitarian, teacher, Peace Corps Volunteer and an industrial hygienist. He is always a poet. His poems have been published in magazines including The Alembic, The Griffin, Diverse Voices, The Dos Passos Review and others in the last six years. One of his poems, Her Callipygian Behind, won tenth place in the Writer’s Digest’s 6th Poetry Competition. He is currently working on a science fiction novel.

The Tower Journal
Spring/Summer 2014