Archive for ‘Literature’

November 9, 2015

Vetsch Park

cutting through
the wet knoll,
green and heavy,
here let white
steamed breath.
a blanket of
fallen leaves
under foot with
stones and sand,
droppings of
the night, unknown,
as forms and figures
danced in shadows.
at midday this
lone foraged trail
at Vetsch Park;
start to go, climb to
god’s seeing eye,
climb to Stoney Point,
back to the cross, to
the christmas star,
back around to town,
back around on
this familiar ground.

November 3, 2015

constant reminder

i supposed
i’d rather listen
to the room’s
pipes bang,
& put the kettle
to the rang,
and have
a clear mind,
than think
about why
i woke up
late last night.
they say the
artist will
starve, but the
cat, and the
bills, and the
debt, and the
truck, and the human
food, and the rent,
all those things
are enough to do
you in. but
i’d rather not
think about that,
those things are
just moments,
and most things
do change.
seems i am
reminded when
the colors fade,
and the bare
nude trees,
and the cold
chill in
foreign winds of
new seasons.

November 1, 2015

Taking in the Forest

Leave colors inexplicable
Roots simply acquiesced
Bark came torn to forcibly
Counting the rings within

October 30, 2015

Proof of an Afterlife

It’s hard to believe in an afterlife.
You lose a lot of people close to you
and October mornings seem colder.
Things appear more apart,
even shoelaces have to cross lines.
I think at least half of me died,
while the other part doesn’t mind…

Ben Franklin and his buddy had a pact
where whoever died first would
come back and say a code word,
like “rosewood”
or “cheery tree”
or I don’t know. Google it…
And they would just know there
was an afterlife—it never happened…

I think if I die the only proof of afterlife
will come in this form: I will come back
as a ghost at 3 in the morning
and raid all of the leftovers
in my mother’s fridge.
It will be loud and unmistakable, this proof.
And then I will be gone forever,
off to a hard sleep. And the very next day
when asked about it, all concerned,
I will bold face lie. There’s your proof.

October 28, 2015

“Good Idea!”

ideas in mouth,
just words and air
in the wind.

ideas in action
takes a mind
to start to begin.

ideas in groups
like assholes,
useless, sit and spin.

ideas in self:
thoughts, experience,
stuck there within.

now if only action.
now if only action.

October 27, 2015

That Sound from The Street

construction season
is over, it is no longer summer
yet still in the morning
a hum comes from the street,
a banging comes off of pipes,
beep-beep beeping of horns,
bells and whistles.
it starts sharp at early,
the streets are blocked say signs,
no one can park, and now
they almost shut off our gas;
we had to tell someone
because someone told us.
how do they fix things
this way, by digging hard
by going down and tearing up,
causing something new
to be half-assed covered,
a little bit more bumpy
something ugly?
i watch in the morning
from my three season’s porch,
i just stand there in the open
t-shirt and shorts,
wishing for warmer coffee,
asking for time off,
wanting a vacation with silence,
needing to make work
so i can construct my own
in old framework decor,
needing some sort of renovation.

October 23, 2015

Modern Eulogy

Now if you die
the newspaper will proudly display
the worst selfie that
you ever took in your whole life
on its front page,

next to big bold print
and bullshit ads and sports team’s
manufactured importance,
and then there is you…

How sad.

This image is
the only photograph of you
that they could find
on your social media page—facebook fame,
quick, fast, now,
through a Google search of your name.

This is the best they could do
for the article, for the paper—for you,

just by going
on the news of your death
and your name,
to your unique page.

I grab the limp paper now
and wonder,
does the family even know?

I wish I had coffee,
I wish other more realistic
less bias things
made the news…

Hillary Clinton goes to jail,
perhaps? But who is she
to me anyway?

No one…

See, I don’t care…
I am worried about my selfie,
my image, my name:
What they will show when I die
on the front page!

This is what life has come to.
I think it costs about $1.00 …

October 18, 2015

Northrop – Center Stage

… don’t
try too

truth is

October 15, 2015

American Psycho II

Oh, the broken media.
Oh, the bad prose.
Oh, a shit grade.
Oh, it goes.

October 13, 2015

growing old

i would open yawn
but i am too tired,
i would full stretch
but i can’t move;
this cold morning
on this stiff floor
has me wondering
reaching, searching–
an aging body,
stuck in this time,
wholly consumed.


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