September 2, 2014

An Ode to This Is Just To Say

I have drunk
the beers
that were in
the fridge

and which
you were definitely
saving
for Sunday

Forgive me
they were refreshing
so strong
and so cold

***
in homage of, and inspired by: This Is Just To Say, William Carlos Williams, 1883 – 1963

August 29, 2014

Minneapolis, The Production.

Filched every best part of art,
of everything.
Singing in the rain
as if a poignant destiny.

Blessings of death
and the mounting of enemies,
over the stone arch bridge
on two rims,
bubbles and scum,
Mississippi muddy brown waters below.

Then we eat, sleep, drink, and move on.

Tattoos and body piercings
Ostentatious Restaurants.
Underground Hip-Hop
and Poetry- the life, so long…

A million extras with a million extra lines; you see the conundrum.
Oh, the Cheeky Bastard.

A problem with me,
probably-
Attitude,
something rude.

Perhaps.

Transcendentalists and progressives, pass aggressive.
Just listen to those intellectuals. (How Special)

Bowel movements
have caused more pain
with more tact and significance,
more movement,
and,
yet, who knows the difference?

Faces are wearing half-hearted pleas of forgiveness, wholly realistic.
– Yellow toothed Grimace.

- Some greyed with fluoride.

- Dentists to witness.

On a real morning
in the real rain
with real useless thoughts,
another really real day.

Overcast above skinny jeans,
mind over matter,
beer filled bladder.

-What we’ve gained.
Promising to keep promises
Walking home just to kick dirt
Flat-tire again- spare me your words.

Unable to afford trivial debate; I stand at a deficit.

Nicollet downtown slicked squares
cut from somwheres- elsewheres.

Reading books to stay relevant;
vintage classics, or course,
Conversations alone,
clean-cut brilliance, absurd.

Excuse me Mr. Artist, can you paint a picture?
Anytime.
Can you write a song?
Any tune, with any rhyme.
Can you sell millions upon millions?
Hopes and dreams, divine.
Can you deal with the adoring throngs- fanfare, that is…

Kids beat drums on the streets,
attempt at viral video,
as the beggar creates a compelling story (wife, child, car, broken, needs, hospital)
Let me give a little-

I spend time at the liquor store too.

Questions: Do I invest in this practice?
Or do I keep ignoring?
Investigate the occasion,
I mean, I guess, I live in poverty too…

No snow on the sidewalk,
just shoes.
Heat index and sweat,
rugged, as it proves.

No ice- or melting with salt under foot,
hanging cigarette ash on stiff upper lip.

Pedestrians that give real looks
External cost magazine crooks.

Signs in downtown read: affluence, success, money.
Neon lights of red, yellow, green, blue and orange,
They sparkle and shimmer in cold and warm,
even in the daylight morn, bikers, buses, taxis, sparkle adorn.

Then the director yells: CUT!!!
And the lights go dim on the set of Minneapolis.

August 28, 2014

Local Public Radio

Frequency of seldom infrequency,
static-noised air to patient ear,
while colored with sun near a bus
or at the beach drinking beers.

Electric sounds come forth in waves
causation to rethink a certain thought,
eclectic colloquialisms, esoteric anecdotes;
meaning and purpose somewhat lost.

Effect and affect the way we make change,
asking questions: who, what, where, when, and why (?)
Coming from a time, this by-gone era,
not much action; save weather in the sky.

And yet always so much to say though,
because this is my local public radio.

August 27, 2014

Fall the Day

Fall surprises
Come right past
Cool breeze day
I’m fine with that

Swing to and fro
Practiced at relaxed
Season’s change and grow
A time to retract

Life’s right now
Everyday to act
Moments of wow
Home is on the path

Astonished, reflecting the year that passed
As they say: don’t look back, don’t look back

August 26, 2014

Fishing near Lanesboro

Fishing near Lanesboro,

More beer than necessary,
one fish smoked, on a vast open field.

Spoken old-timers regale;
trials and tribulations in sar-ca-sm.

Late early last night,
Late morning faded blue-light.

fog that hung
on the fleeting dusk.

Lightening bugs
held within wind gusts.

Crept up slow
as sauntering drunks.

under low hung iron-bridge;
slicked mud and rocks.

Root River below,
life we fish, tied lures with knots.

August 25, 2014

Bad Sunburn

Salt
Sweat
Sunburn
These seasons…

Huffing and puffing
Ride to work

Glowing ball
in the sky
beating down,
Breaking
the dew point record;

Yesterday,
High-rise
thick clouds,
Lightening show
and shadows

Values darkened and stiff,
These puffy entities-

Radio in earbuds, bag stuck to back, stinging, burning, sloughed off skin, in movements, in moments.
Now the day begins.

August 21, 2014

There was a flood about us

Lightening danced across the sky in clouded seclusion; a million flash bulbs illuminated, ten thousand bowling ball strikes.

Cut uneven as broken glass still stuck together.
Gods must be gaming.
Cats run and hide.

Every silence a moment lapsed in hesitation for coming sound.
Alarm bells clamored loud, infrequently ringing.
This may pass before the commute.

Awoken by raindrop’s tapping,
as events plagued
pale-blue morning light
set in ruin.

There was a flood about us,
contrasted by the altitude.

August 21, 2014

Lifestyles, I forget *(MPLS)

Heat index

Windless lungs

Torrential rain

Frozen months

 

Past pains

Tattoos reflect

Painted bodies

Empty heads

 

Pierced flesh

Slight regret

Walking home

Make amends

 

Life-styles

Cigar-ettes

Cold Coffee

Paid rent

 

Micro-brews

Common sense

Land-o-lakes

What day is it?

 

Doesn’t matter

I forget.

 

***

They are all the same anyway, and then they end. 

August 19, 2014

St. Paul in the Fall

St. Paul in the fall,

whilst leaves change and thin.

 

Whilst festivities and fairs

under tents, bearing food, creep in.

 

Whilst trees bend

with robust forceful wind.

 

A time to reflect the mess we’re within;

past and coming years, one which end and begin.

 

Peers and loved ones we’ve lost,

at grand experience’ cost. 

 

Standing growing moving,

shedding one layer at a time

 

A tan peals and pales,

A secret is revealed.

 

Skin and bone become frail,

light years fast pass the snail. 

 

A north shore lake-effect patience,

Months under sun we’ve waited.

 

Suffering rain snow and gale,

Minnesota weather: what it entails. 

 

In and amongst everything;

though a singular unit, alone as one.

 

Walking fresh cold press coffee in hand,

scanning distant verdant lands.

 

On this walk towards autumn- new times and old friends,

alternatives we enact; to the ever changing plans.

 

Remember the voices we will never hear again.

Remember the times with loved ones we spend.

 

Perplexed by this simple yet inspiring life,

St. Paul in the fall feels cool, close, fast approaching, and right. 

August 18, 2014

flat tires have transpired

Witness: flat tires have transpired;

U-lock and steel wires- cables,

odds and ends, curses,

fixed up again, pole stance.

 

Como commute now,

she sits near Black window-

steam, heat, and coffee aroma…

running to- somehow.

 

Girls stand at the bus stop bench

asking, ever simple

questions of schedules

and Joe’s market view edibles.

 

On! this box with wheels,

Alternatives- let it go.

 

Running thru humid air

Nalgene splash uneven

Hot breaths, punctual care

Step by step to there.

 

Flat tires have transpired.

Days described disrepair. 

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