Posts tagged ‘prose’

September 10, 2014

Restless Weather

Dark clouds formed the sky as wind touched my face
My dead and gone ancestors have done this to me
Taking it in together, we stand tall hands linked
Expressionless, our emotion takes hold, carried-
Art appeared on the flesh; red lines raised
Trusting paths we’ve taken, as the towers climb
Reflecting the river waters as the seasons change
Showers reigned in testing the land, the crop, the life
High up a bulb flashes near birds so lofty fly
Inclement weather of remembrance, the rain
Drenched thru flesh, soulfully feeling inward pain
Eyes scan and absorb, what now, what more, what remains
Strength enough not to collapse, feels appropriate,
Apropos no more, prompt forecast coming belated,
Arousal of the air currents, moved, we were but shaken.

September 9, 2014

Fall 2014

Fall comes just as our sneakers have worn in
Our bike seats touch familiar under buttocks
Dying grass and flowers thin; bend in the wind,
Tree’s leaves affect intensely displayed colors.
Pools close and drain, with new frost to blame.
Mothers count their wandering curious young.
A yellowing sun grows faint, shadowing its loss.
Fathers light expensive brown cigars for fun.
Dogs and cats play-excited, loud and rowdy,
Leaves and debris blow thru them in the yard.
Cold holidays come nearer, passing yet again,
Each year grows tired, cold, aloof, and hard.
On destiny we wait; fleeting speed of time,
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter yet again align.

September 7, 2014

Put together as I am

When
People cross me once
I don’t think twice,

I
Strive
To pull
Them apart
Piece by piece
From the inside,
Slowly.

Do you see?

September 5, 2014

What of Water?

Each morning
bells ring.

Tired hands
clasp and twist knobs.
Fingers fondling
fidget on dials.
Bolt upright
sharp angles in bed.

Legs swing round
to touch wooden floors.

Stand walking to alabaster bathroom door.

Drawing curtains,
transparent.

Naked and drowsy,
there is nothing left to hide.
Flood of water
on the rise.
Switch to nozzle,
step inside
A slippery wet tub.
Lather. Rinse. Dry.

We are washing in that same water that alludes the thirsty.
Out of the many problems we make, what could the worst be?

I came out clean, save for conscious.

September 4, 2014

Oh, what a night

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;
bottles falling,
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,
inside;
humid as the night goes on,
out there
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.

Fans cheer,
announcers describe.
Sitting on the couch I put my feet up,
and sink in.

Oh, what a night.

September 2, 2014

An Ode to This Is Just To Say

I have drunk
the beers
that were in
the fridge

and which
you were definitely
saving
for Sunday

Forgive me
they were refreshing
so strong
and so cold

***
in homage of, and inspired by: This Is Just To Say, William Carlos Williams, 1883 – 1963

August 29, 2014

Minneapolis, The Production.

Filched every best part of art,
of everything.
Singing in the rain
as if a poignant destiny.

Blessings of death
and the mounting of enemies,
over the stone arch bridge
on two rims,
bubbles and scum,
Mississippi muddy brown waters below.

Then we eat, sleep, drink, and move on.

Tattoos and body piercings
Ostentatious Restaurants.
Underground Hip-Hop
and Poetry- the life, so long…

A million extras with a million extra lines; you see the conundrum.
Oh, the Cheeky Bastard.

A problem with me,
probably-
Attitude,
something rude.

Perhaps.

Transcendentalists and progressives, pass aggressive.
Just listen to those intellectuals. (How Special)

Bowel movements
have caused more pain
with more tact and significance,
more movement,
and,
yet, who knows the difference?

Faces are wearing half-hearted pleas of forgiveness, wholly realistic.
– Yellow toothed Grimace.

- Some greyed with fluoride.

- Dentists to witness.

On a real morning
in the real rain
with real useless thoughts,
another really real day.

Overcast above skinny jeans,
mind over matter,
beer filled bladder.

-What we’ve gained.
Promising to keep promises
Walking home just to kick dirt
Flat-tire again- spare me your words.

Unable to afford trivial debate; I stand at a deficit.

Nicollet downtown slicked squares
cut from somwheres- elsewheres.

Reading books to stay relevant;
vintage classics, or course,
Conversations alone,
clean-cut brilliance, absurd.

Excuse me Mr. Artist, can you paint a picture?
Anytime.
Can you write a song?
Any tune, with any rhyme.
Can you sell millions upon millions?
Hopes and dreams, divine.
Can you deal with the adoring throngs- fanfare, that is…

Kids beat drums on the streets,
attempt at viral video,
as the beggar creates a compelling story (wife, child, car, broken, needs, hospital)
Let me give a little-

I spend time at the liquor store too.

Questions: Do I invest in this practice?
Or do I keep ignoring?
Investigate the occasion,
I mean, I guess, I live in poverty too…

No snow on the sidewalk,
just shoes.
Heat index and sweat,
rugged, as it proves.

No ice- or melting with salt under foot,
hanging cigarette ash on stiff upper lip.

Pedestrians that give real looks
External cost magazine crooks.

Signs in downtown read: affluence, success, money.
Neon lights of red, yellow, green, blue and orange,
They sparkle and shimmer in cold and warm,
even in the daylight morn, bikers, buses, taxis, sparkle adorn.

Then the director yells: CUT!!!
And the lights go dim on the set of Minneapolis.

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.

August 27, 2014

Fall the Day

Fall surprises
Come right past
Cool breeze day
I’m fine with that

Swing to and fro
Practiced at relaxed
Season’s change and grow
A time to retract

Life’s right now
Everyday to act
Moments of wow
Home is on the path

Astonished, reflecting the year that passed
As they say: don’t look back, don’t look back

August 21, 2014

Lifestyles, I forget *(MPLS)

Heat index

Windless lungs

Torrential rain

Frozen months

 

Past pains

Tattoos reflect

Painted bodies

Empty heads

 

Pierced flesh

Slight regret

Walking home

Make amends

 

Life-styles

Cigar-ettes

Cold Coffee

Paid rent

 

Micro-brews

Common sense

Land-o-lakes

What day is it?

 

Doesn’t matter

I forget.

 

***

They are all the same anyway, and then they end. 

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