Posts tagged ‘reality’

October 10, 2015


it’s 8:45 in the morning
i lie there, still,
in bed as our
cat claws the sides
of the mattress
to bare insides.
my love walks
nude in oils
and a black
loosely hung robe
between doors
and mirrors.
her understanding
affords daybreak’s
and then we roll in
the painted sheets–
moment’s ecstasy.
and then
the day went.
again alone i lie.

October 5, 2015

New Cadence Apparatus

Dear New Cadence Apparatus,

you move me with your moving;

the artistry of your performance,

to my mind, is wholly consuming.

October 2, 2015

rambunctious after rest

rambunctious in the morning
ready to go as i wake
i am a coffee pot spewing
a toaster glowing orange
a radio turned to loud
causing neighbors to yell
i am a shower going hot
i am the birds chirping there.

in the morning i am awake,
alive, smiling, readying,
looking forward to the day,
what’s to come, what is;
the emotion of rebirth,
the moment all important.
i am rambunctious at the now,
because that is all i have.

October 1, 2015

contrived conventions

we are stuck in our phones
and stuck in our beds
sipping deep on dark coffee
just somewhere between

portions of the morning
allotted fully at random
tendency of our nature
going full bloom in the room

a kitchen of classics
the radio sounds a play
in one aspect for the present
mostly charted on days

now dry from the shower
then clothes from the drawer
to steaming pot towel hold
into the french press poured

we are humans not being
without contrived conventions;
the preference, shades,
and pronouns obscure

we are humans not being
couldn’t hold occupied hands;
the mirror doesn’t stand
my selfie will last forever

couldn’t walk for milk unchecking
couldn’t live from that notification

September 19, 2015

applefest casualty

Those trees of the backyard
Through a naked window
kicked at my eyes while a truck drove
busy and loud in my skull.

The white beer tent last night,
with its sugary high notes
and crisply set carbonation
caused splintered synapse today.

And those leaves were changing outside,
and Dirty Jobs was on the set
and life was passing by momentarily
as butter rested malleable on a knife’s edge,

and in the dish, on toast, on pancakes;
between a paper, and conversation
about how this generation doesn’t get it
from another which heard the same …

Now, yesterday’s ideology was stale as the open chips,
and contrived but real and there.

My kindergarten teacher was my bartender,
her pupils were standing years apart
and side-by-side amongst the crowd
as a cover band played Queen
and last week’s hit single.

A flea market set up where we played as kids,
and mom had to go to the fest grounds
to help the church in bright light fashion.

Text messages came through
as I pulled the rubber band
off of bold print fragile paper.

The headline spoke of what was outside:
the backyard, again, window earlier today
—I almost threw up—
remember new years day?
and the champagne and its pain?

On the set was tanning leather—
the wet kind, grey and grotesque;

and in that flowery prose
was a half-baked sentence
which balked at this fleeting instance
of happening nature.

He said just take these pills
and don’t mind the stale smoke smell
of that crumpled shirt at your feet,

an hour later my head
became straight,
I dressed for the game,
and for the weather, and for the
cold fall to come.

It was a morning of remembrance
and a splitting headache,
thoughts of sweet beer and bubbles.

We were talking sorts in the dark,
in the night rain,
near tents and lights
and sound.

Many questions now…
There were no awards for 3rd place
in the poker tournament…

We have the hardest time understanding
that we don’t understand.

It exists because you hear it,
or you hear it because it exists.

I remember feeding the horse,
and then eating food with my hands…

As a loading television allowed for novel thought.

September 16, 2015

Self Help

a stranger’s words
to an open ear

let through yet
frequent forgot;

insight comes
from the inside,

hearing self, we
look no further.

September 14, 2015

uptown shine

exactly knowing & accurate
judgement are as frequent
as authenticity in the bar
lights & sidewalks of uptown.

September 11, 2015

a passing thought – neurotic

sick with the taste of
exhaustion, caught in throat
with cold wind, radio barking,
pizza sitting, how legs tire,
how body aches–so sore,
tender, cutting, sharpness;
stomach in knots; hours
of night, pushing pillows,
sweating, drooling, shake;
waking, wanting it to go,
tiresome day, morning lows;
semester’s triumphs & wows;
the hue is darker in autumn–
daily highs, found here
in bed dying; living, life,
nose bleed caught in tissue,
she asks, I tell; can’t talk,
doing nothing but packing,
leave on the next day–if i can,
feeling as my co-worker
with a pain in her side: wary;
will they remove it, or am
i just paranoid at a thought?
these remedies come fast,
vile seeds sewn and growing;
if only to fix my fretting mind.

September 9, 2015


you can
be yourself

no one else.

September 8, 2015


back to
the same thing,

still surprised
by change.


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