Posts tagged ‘MN’

March 3, 2015

God Save Open Mic (a good place to judge art)

A room full of Artists standing high in watch,
One opens wide a mouth, exit words of thought,
An occurrence of perfect* art, too unmeasurably so;
Those in the crowd would attempt not to know.

*look up this word.

March 2, 2015

Sunday Kitchen

There is a lecture coming aloud from the local radio,
As a slab of raw meat sits red on a kitchen countertop,
And hard words attempt to cause cutting glances,
Only stirring those with argumentative proclamations;
Two pieces of toast are burning in a dusty toaster,
While the sun’s white rays angle along a windowsill,
Taking note as my hand goes numb with the heavy pen,
Arrhythmic palpitations, these sensations of surprise;
Our domestic grey cat licks herself on the made bed,
Shoes cover feet from the stones sitting on the floor,
As socks come wet within, toes sweating at warmth;
Dried plants stand tall from the wooden tongues up;
A chair, rigid, and a couch, soft, are waiting too,
On this cold coffee morning, the taste is so strong
Of sweet outdated milk, bleeding steak, eggs, and onions-
Pieced are parts which come at present just to pass thru.

February 26, 2015

Bakken through Minneapolis

Night black as Bakken
oil, which malignly pours past silent
communities,

shipped in cryptic-marked tanker cars
under cover of darkness, rightly
so, they move obtusely opaque—

opposite downtown lights which stick to a wetted haze
in the distance, making this Midwest city glow
for miles—some say 150 of them away.

The shit we’ve seen, and haven’t.

That which creeps along can be found in a jet, in
a car, or on foot,

in hardened
rock snow-crust, cold as a
flushed-toilet shower’s mist—you know; everything
is connected, retraced, unplugged,
tubed, tied, aborted,
and rewind.

Truths for lies:
This is safe,
This is fact,
This in fact is safe,
We care about you.

It is snug-up, or snug-down, or
just snug enough, or caught in between comfortable,
and I can’t go outside,
I have to decide.

Then it is: A pub visit, a flipped
switch, a lit door in the distance—these
palm trees have become foreigners
in desert sands which have turned to mud
by native rain power in your very living room
by way of: your very hand;

the vessel you hold,
repurposed from some ornate
decoration, from some ornate
description, from so-and-so’s ornate party,
or from some ornate magazine—ornate parts
of these

-Cult clubs.

And that is life:
black as night as petro ships by, as exhaust fumes fly,
as exhausted you sleeps, you snore, you don’t think;
as an “elected” official’s bank account goes cha-ching,
as a CEO draws outside of the lines, and talks energy.

(of course we need)

as the air goes in and out
of his mouth,
and in and out,
and in and out—

Like fucking, really.
Hey, you thought it. :)

Humans without a care,
they are there happily unawares.

With smiles on their dreaming faces,
as that napalm tube rolls on steel wheels in their backyards.

February 24, 2015

Taking Tuesday

Waking to this early Tuesday overcast
Love and work scatter the wooden floor below

Amongst dust rhinos and smudged folders, as
Stacked bound books beg for openness

Violins float in the apartment, making classical
Air, as though class systems didn’t exist

A tea kettle is burnt alive at the stove top,
While I starve in scraps of last night, of last minute,

Of yesterday, and of the rest of my life;
These pieces abstract on this yellow kitchen table

The body is fine when the temperature is above freezing;
Spring is here, teasing us back out of our shells—

Newly just out of bed, just in new light,
Now is the product of our sensitive closed eyes

And a person should acquire all of it,
And it’s just the second day of the week

February 22, 2015

No Frac, No Question

When our drinking waters have been set aflame,
and we’ve destroyed our pristine rolling bluffs;
the people of the Coulee Region will be ashamed,
while the mining corporations won’t have enough.

*

No frac,
No question.

February 21, 2015

A Midwestern City

A Midwestern city holds its frozen contents—
These hardened pieces go about on their own.
Uniquely conditioned to unforgiving climates;
Still those passive parts make up the whole.

February 20, 2015

Make Everything

Make
everything in
life,

But
excuses.

February 17, 2015

A Life Between

The abstract is incomplete,
The perfect is completely done—
Neither former, nor latter;
A life between is more fun.

February 17, 2015

a late day

I wake to shower,
She wakes to paint,
The cat wakes to eat,
We all might be late.

February 15, 2015

February Forecast

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.

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