only hard fate;
this is your life,
so why wait?
The back-window view comes through plastic-split shades,
A muted setting of winter-barren under dampened-dim skies;
Thoughts of base raise in the mind question to go wander,
A forecast forlorn suggests: layer in bundles, stay inside.
Words we use which we don’t “know”,
Have been framed from a storied past;
Sedimented by interpreted histories,
Always portrayed by fools as fact.
Today I woke up next to someone I love,
I walked into the kitchen to feed the cat.
After that, I took a shower, a shit, and brushed my teeth;
Today has been pretty remarkable already.
Fickle love’s passing fate,
Seen a wretched cold world;
Sweet birdsong of the wind,
And a blouse lay unfurled.
The city center has
Been filled with
These spots to grab attention,
To make you buy: react.
Local rags remain,
Good at that, and intact.
What stands out is
The importance they lack.
We have books by the stack,
And bike paths.
We have beaches
In the summer months to relax,
And theatres like
The Guthrie to see acts.
Local mags don’t really map that;
-With photos, lists, and ads.
Painting a picture without paving a path,
They write on setting precedent, because they can’t.
I suppose one day I will be surprised when an article proves friendly to my eyes.
But only after realizing how much effort was put into marketing to my demographic.
Waking early in a clouded dawn to board a bus,
This bus takes us through the dark to a dock.
One warm ferry waits in stirring waters below,
It’s held there fast by thick ropes in tight knots.
We are made up of 60% water—
So, if we drink water,
From a different land,
From a different city,
From a different spring,
From a different past, present and future,
Do we become made up of something entirely different?