Archive for ‘Reality’

November 16, 2015

This is how it is…

when verbose people
hiding behind screens
say this
is how it is,
and thunder
beyond the windows
speak more
wisdom in meaning.

when a gut reaction
is examined
as hard “fact” meaning,
our degrees
and letters
and intuitions have
been burnt to ash.

stream of conscious thought
is the next
judge waiting patient,
wanting for
one more line,
one more guess,
for one more anything
contemporary to tell it
how it is–
besides them.

some existence merely
depends on
the expressions of
others, and
how there is no
fact in feeling,
no definitions exact,
only words and thought
to a person,
telling this is right
and this is wrong,
like they fucking “know”
the difference anyway.

October 26, 2015

where to go?

wondering as an adult
the meaning
of money of property
of pomp of present
why we try so hard
wasting our time
in-doors at desks
to be put into
a box within the earth
as if we hardly noticed
the outside
air and how it was sweet
how eyes hurt at the sun
if only to be there
and take it rather
than away and not,
to be what a part you were
of something
the kettle bubbles
the radio barks
the morning begins
where to go?

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 22, 2015

subjective subject

eyes see
other eyes

October 20, 2015

The Moon Died at Aster

a waxen yellow
crescent glow
descended into
the cutting tops of
downtown buildings

as we watched from
an open window
across a slipping river
in red leather
chairs and candle
light vigil
of some brick structure.

it was smooth
as Tullamore Dew
and matured grapes
in crystal glasses,

and silk stalks outside
in Oktober wind,
and crushed leaves
under pedestrian feet,
and third avenue bridge
loomed the same.

the moon died
at Aster, it was just
going away.

it was coming anew,
meeting familiar horizons
on a different day.

October 16, 2015

Right (T)here

All is well when the lights are on.
I know someone is in.
The office is not empty.
I know something, anything is happening.

The outside world glows a peach aura.
A warm mason jar of coffee is held in my hand.
I note the orange chasing
up over a distant horizon.

We drive in listening to MPR news.
Cold is below trees in crossed arms
and a longing for warmth.
Shaking as it settles to the bone.

The fields are not frosted crystals yet.
How morning is manipulated from lush summer
to autumn colors to bleak black in white.
In months this will seem a dream.

The end is near and those involved understand.
Nuclear power chimneys back the brick façade.
This entire campus is a tragic set.
With impromptu scenes between.

Maples come nude welcoming along the walk.
I step through a waiting room maze.
My key goes in at the elevator’s threshold,
head bumps to the door.

Inside rows of lights cast down
to shine a mute tile floor;
Here was wood and leather,
keyboards and desktop screens.

And then I heard what was for me.
Comfort in words: it will come…
Just give it time.
As everything else, patience and fate.

Ah, the answer is there, as usual.
It’s right in front of me.
And the lights were on.
They were waiting inside the same.

October 12, 2015

imagine expression

that world you’d dreamed
that thought you’d heard
had only happened for you
as if it had not occurred

October 6, 2015

Hey Joe and the Word “Like”

Joe, he kills it in class
with his well-formed questions,
he does—it’s true.

I wish I would have gone
to the same high school as him,
I assume he was popular,
probably played ball.

Alas, I didn’t, alas, I sit far,
far away from his dicey interactions.

Another classmate I sit in a room with—confusedly,
she uses the word “like” more times
than I ever thought understandably possible,

like, oh my fucking god,

if I hear that word once more in rapid succession
I may just leave class early unannounced.

But Joe—back to him, he is like the honey bee that stings,
he is like a one hit wonder from the mid-90s,
he also dies intellectually from his act.

It is tragic like Hamlet, not enough college to know:
let the teacher talk, this is their show.

As a peer I will admit this is fun
to watch and hear and be a part of—

(The professor’s ahem interruption of the grasshopper!)

like the Titanic sinking on film,
like an ungraceful fall on March ice,
or like a public argument growing in volume and irrelevance,

as the instructor says: we are a part of everything…
The classroom is full of minds blown.

I enjoy these acts,
but they are painful.

So painful…
Oh yes, but fun.

Education offers much.

September 7, 2014

Put together as I am

People cross me once
I don’t think twice,

To pull
Them apart
Piece by piece
From the inside,

Do you see?

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.


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