This is the fifth or sixth version of Wobble. As a poem it pretty well rots. And it keeps getting shorter with each revision…  I think because I have found no real connection between the lines I like and the central feeling I am trying to express.  Along those lines: I was editing Mad Rush this morning (the piece I wrote about in the last post.)  I auditioned it for the Clarice Smith/ PG Parks Showcase last week.  Though I didn’t get in, I recommend that event.  Always a good show.  I’ll be performing Mad Rush at next week’s Dinner Party event at the Warehouse Theater.  Please come check it out, and let me know what you think.

Dancers will be able to relate to this poem: it describes my sore feet when I get up in the middle of the night. One of my favorite things about the poem was writing that I get up and wobble like a penguin. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, the foot soreness, and being a penguin all of a sudden always makes me smile.


When I wake in the middle of the night you are with me, until I leave,

wobbling like a penguin.

At night we park. At night I dream, wake mad and drive off.

Forget me not maybe is to remember you,

forget the wobble.

Morning music and light I am grace for you.

I wobble.

Copyrighted, aight !??!

Author: Robert Bettmann

Founder of Day Eight, and the DC Arts Writing Fellowship.