October 19, 2014
I recall the smell of fish from the brown water
And white caps rising high—
Brown, dirty… undulating—
Ducks stood in speckled sands,
Trash mixed rock…
And a cloud passes overhead
Casting a new shadow;
Ducks waddle under the dock,
And below they quack.
And I see boats
Moving across the River,
And I see that water
Has been moving past.
Inspired by Frank Herbert’s Dune: (source: Unbroken Thread): One of Gurney Halleck’s Tone Poems for Sad Times
October 18, 2014
What we do,
shapes the lives
that we make.
October 10, 2014
Each blade of grass
In the sun.
Some appear blue-green,
Others appear well-done.
Scorched in noon-day sunrays,
Dancing in the wind for fun.
Each blade of grass is an individual.
Each blade of grass is but one.
October 7, 2014
Another day to have,
Shower, eat, read, be -Exist…
Only after we wake.
October 3, 2014
Even the morning seems acutely somber
Broad clouded skies hold steady longer
Green leaves thick ripped from their place
Void departed relatives we save nigh space
Juxtapose this deep cutting- chilled contrast
Waiting for summer’s waning neb to fast pass
Vexed by cruel and unrelenting, stiff nature
Fool-heartedly with their lives they wager
On a single day we wish to stay the same
On forcible winds we wish to have changed
Man can live amongst this time and watch,
As he winds the seasonable swift ticking clock.
September 26, 2014
Sometimes clattered on the desk,
Wearing his nails long;
Hollow bones or dead teeth,
Moving with gestures-
-Words on gender and pleasure.
One must point the finger
In a mirror
To find out.
Once to be challenged
Once to be inspired.
Ah, the English Major exacting his critiques on me…
God save silence, God save Education, God save humility.
September 4, 2014
This lonely night,
as I scrub clean the soiled dishes.
Wet hands, same the front of my day-old shirt;
dinged pale, blotched, and loose.
Nothing in its place;
corners catching everything,
dirt sticking to the floor,
as the cat meows an indecipherable slight.
All of this would be impossible if it were tried.
Still, stifling hot,
humid as the night goes on,
sits a lonely parking lot.
There is no relief, save for another extreme; Midwest seasons.
-We know, we know.
Small things noticed under skin,
this sliver- this time, sharp and razor thin.
Walking into this empty living room
the radio addresses the score loudly.
Sitting on the couch I put my feet up,
and sink in.
Oh, what a night.
September 2, 2014
I have drunk
that were in
you were definitely
they were refreshing
and so cold
in homage of, and inspired by: This Is Just To Say, William Carlos Williams, 1883 – 1963