Posts tagged ‘life’

November 25, 2014

Naïve Play (as a boy)

When I was a boy, I sat on a polished smooth cement floor
in my father’s four-car garage. Below me were bits of broken
thermometer, recently shattered; this ancient device, with
Mercury inside. It had leaked out now, as I again dropped
a hammerhead on its transparent innards: the crunch of broken-
powdered glass- the ting of blunt object’s glance (on stone)-
the grating pitch of sand as it slid to, by this violent tool,
to be picked back up. Liquid splashed out, forming dots… These
blue eyes saw all, what fun! It was great until my mother put
her hands under my shoulders and pulled me away fast from that
spot. Damn the chemical reactions that capture our attention,
then we are –against our will, kicking and screaming, drug away.

November 24, 2014

Coffee Croissant and Cigarette

I’ll take a coffee croissant and cigarette-
To pull me out of this cold,
To help me forget.

I’ll take a coffee croissant and cigarette-
Deep chills in the wind,
Heavy bundled at best.

I’ll take a coffee croissant and cigarette-
Miracles do happen,
However snow comes ubiquitous, wet.

I’ll take a coffee croissant and cigarette-
People have needs,
When hands are full satisfaction is met.

I’ll take all of the above, because if I look below I see: Ice. Salt. and Snow.

November 22, 2014

Comely Civilian

Sipping hot Chai Tea,
When bitter came sweet.
Numbers change degrees,
Perspective saw discreet.

Early time of day,
We met along the way.
Present here now sit,
A life made of odd bits.

Notice slight turn of head
Sparking bulbs in the mind;
Wait, watch, and reflect,
Faint to smell of Dandelion.

Supple as shone flesh,
One acknowledges dewed must,
Affective thoughts to pass,
Words spoke, open mouth trust.

Salacious centerfold,
Touching each endpoint nerve,
Appointing minor tasks-
Let eager subjects be served.

Sit perked straight up,
Lace bound tight round back;
Pictures opened doors,
Imagined forms one retracts.

That fiend- the mind, moves fancy to bust.
That fiend- the thought: human nature of lust.

November 20, 2014

Mislabeled Morbid (For née LB)

We live in a land of the past,
Books and pages are ways of old.

We are pieces of historic quilts,
Coming loose at the fold.

Proper prints of precious paper,
We have worshiped, day in and day out.

Those ancients come back to haunt us,
Specters float free around old house.

Preposterous monster, behold you!
So green, so vile, so askew-

Distant memories my friend, you’ve passed,
Now we make frightful light of you.

BOO!

There is nothing so morbid as fearing those of the dead,
It’s with great anxiety we’ve weighted them in our head.

*
My father would agree,
He was agreeable.

November 18, 2014

American Episteme

An American,
Building “knowledge”;
In label, name, and degree-

Ink on these pages;

Changing the reflection I see,
Of me.

…Apparently…

November 12, 2014

Connect to St. Paul

Follow steam as it floats
On our daily commute,
Orange eastern horizon,
Thoughts of warm soup.

Eyes locked on the bus
Swaying back and forth,
Come along on this ride,
Again, feeling so north.

Travelling tainted ways,
Thinking of pins and pine,
Bundled people walking-
Beyond the glass, outside.

Seasons to be discussed,
Roads to pass as we go,
Men in boots and gloves
Shovel hard at the snow.

Now these sitters travel
Careful as what to pack,
Each to make way here,
In hopes to make it back.

What more could we ask?
What more could we ask?

November 9, 2014

Sunday, November 09, 2014.

It is no Sunday, November 09, 2014.
Or any day…

It is a surreal institute
Of darkness in oppressing clouds
Looking down, waiting, coming-
Wrapping round;

Tangible—insistent, proud-
Turning breath to steam, to puffs, muting sound,
To daggers in the chest-
These real proper effects!

It is not any day,
Or any Sunday, November 09, 2014.
But the weather,
But the pressure.

Felt in measures.

November 5, 2014

Patchwork Thing

Broken parts
Accumulate the me
I am;

Pieced together
What it seems
On a whim-
Head, abdomen, and limbs.

Padding down ends of Scotch tape
In hopes that it holds.

So many holes,
Can you see my soul?
Dismembered me standing in place,
Am I exposed?

Crease the folds.

Broken eggs can relate.
Falling apart to date.

Life as this quilt stuck together.
Indifferent and varied, as the weather.

October 31, 2014

Small Parts of Us

Balled tissue found in my pocket,
Crumpled, asymmetrical too,
Holding browned stained spatter,
Amongst dried tears of proof.

Discovered in seldom worn jacket,
Once you were tucked deep inside;
Producing contents as pure magic,
Tiny parts in my mind come alive.

Last I wore you to a wedding,
Then we heard passing bad news.
I was standing dressed in all black,
Together we were singing the blues.

I tucked you away just safely,
For another day to come;
I found you on this morning (for instance),
Now, I’ve been struck dumb.

Little things we keep, held on to so tight,
Parts of us small, which make up our lives.

October 25, 2014

Like God

If I were
Made in the likeness
Of God,

I wouldn’t
Exist.

Thank God.

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