Posts tagged ‘Shakespeare’

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.

January 25, 2015

Naive

Fickle love’s passing fate,
Seen a wretched cold world;
Sweet birdsong of the wind,
And a blouse lay unfurled.

December 25, 2014

Unpacking the Snow

First alarms sounded of a white snowy morning. Heavy and wet, flakes covered the ground as those in the river were covered by water, never to come home again. Fast late last year turns to right now present; and years, and sorted experience before. It came out like a pocket knife to test, to screw, to cut once, deep. It was the kind sharpened to a fine edge. Dead bones rested below, and in the back of one’s mind. People came and went; flesh loosened, darkened, slackened, and dusted with age back to dirt. Blades of toy windmills caught the grey air, while leaves fell zigzag to the browned December ground. We just ran by. Air brakes of a semi sounded off far on a distant highway, for those who traveled about the countryside, between the bluffs, near the riverbed; all to hear, all to unite in this one thought, some time, some date, in one mind. Ubiquitous green trees once loomed watching over this tiny town, Apple Capital, providing breath, under thick blankets of sepia cloud; brisk and cool in winter light, it moved through valleys touching rock, touching sand, touching faces, creating must and dew, on bark, and Fall’s fodder, on all who caught a glimpse. Each little speck floated soundless, seeming endlessly to the darkened pavement, as eyes took to more than they could unpack.

December 16, 2014

Marley’s Dance

Foggy covetous invalids,
leant on glistening balustrades,
with gossamer hangings; bent
blades of grass, enacting a fool’s
calypso in cover of darkness, at
that exact moment, for all gleaming
eyes to witness, as winds stirred
through an open door below.

December 4, 2014

Finals in a Boat

Thick are these academic papers;
We cling to as long proved assets.
Fingers flip thru dull page after page,
Proving proclaimed righteous passage.

Moving red eyes scan this distant mote,
To grasp sought after effective note.
Hoping, praying, and prying we go,
Aspire this traveled boat always floats.

Thru vast opaque waters of fluid mind,
Much is the lacking of present time.
Having been assailed, to keep us entwined,
Confined we fret, towing endless line.

To calmer seas onward we press,
Trying challenges bested, nobly met.
To succeed; to degrees; to just pay rent-
Precious hours of our lives lost or lent.

To dock that long off nigh forgotten vessel,
To pin to chest the highest rank of glint medal.

***
See what I’ve caught? It’s called a label.

October 17, 2014

Selfie Job

Another day of internet fame

Giving our selfies to the world

Loving fake realism abound

Bright as diamonds and pearls.

We could reflect on vanity

We could unpack and unfurl

This camera lens needs a model,

Please be the next Cover Girl.

Recent Art: The Truly Amazing

Handpicked; no filter, true—why wait?

These photos; we are scrolling pages,

Even on fine dinner dates.

Selfless as one must be

To take the perfect selfie

Relax and snap that picture;

Capture your inner luxury.

Becoming as real as we are,

Face to face with the stars.

October 15, 2014

Idiots with Entitlement

One is made pragmatic by experience;
A grave man
Speaks grave words
Of which the living cannot hear.

I would not spend $50,000 to buy shit.

Old-time orthodox tradition;
If fish didn’t kill themselves
By swimming out of water
We wouldn’t have cellphones.

Fact.

Relative relations wouldn’t spring so fast on advantage.

Fact.

Men wouldn’t stand on two legs,

Or breathe the thin air.

Or Fuck or Fight,

Or even care.

Fact.

Modern times,
What is art for?
Based on rhymes,
Behind closed doors.

And then they tell us to read:

Edgar Allan Poe,
Shakespeare,
Derrida,
Asimov.

Where “Lawyer” isn’t even a Word…

-Small town folk,
With small town ideals.
Maybe I’m joking,
Maybe I’m ForRealz.

I argue,
The same;
Because I am
Cut from the same cloth.

Then they tell us to fit in this:

Tight
Rigid,
Imposing,
Oppressive,
Box.

Though,

I was merely stuck in a book,
You merely read some words.
If things weren’t going for me
I’d probably too act on urge.

Now, how does one do the first part again?

September 21, 2014

Seasonal Realism

Strong Autumn winds blow in;
Through trees, on a whim- these limbs,
Birds,
and shadows made of them.

Exhausted year, once again…

Sincere,
Biers and tears,
Free and easy,
Mind’s been cleared.

Coming up wasted and frustrated-
Elliot Smith came up roses,
Empty handed impatience,
Changing mindset with practiced poses.

Some of the best luck of all time,
Some of the unluckiest best times,
Some logic takes heavy loads off minds.
Some laziness, what!? -The awful crime.

Round corners above pavement,
On a bike,
Life is dangerous,
Backpack filled with book pages,

I promise…

Summer’s gone recently, but not for long,
This weather; indifferent, right, or wrong.

The Midwest is at least unique in that it is unpredictable in clime.
And I imagine Simon and Garfunkel will enjoy their vodka and lime.

June 17, 2014

Lock and Dam No. 7

On a boat close an expansive dam
A boy accompanied an Old Man
Fishing for hours cold hands
Only to have come up few clams

The river remained rough
Water spray wet brown splash
Bubbles in the water swirling
Bottom of boat held beer cans

Farther up the boy could see birds
Up close to the tumblers brightly red
Over white-caps exchanged few words
The Old Man palmed his rod in hand

Lock and Dam 7 lent no pension
Yet many prospered in its wake
The Old Man and the boy lay patient
They trolled up and down, but had to wait

Ice coated concrete walls
With rope or hook they fastened tight
Daylight lasted only so long in afternoons
The highway lights suggested night

Untying they came undone
River smell and worms in hand
The fish on the stringer were meager
Pushing off they went towards land

They passed others by and by
Anglers that were mastered
Coming closer to the landing point
Lights on avoiding disaster

Trailing wake in full gait
An out-board went ‘bout 20 knots
Blackness and bugs flew by about them
As they came closer to the docks

Lamplight held empty parking lot
Shown just below the river’s edge
The flat-bottom came parallel the wooden structure
The boy managed at his sea legs

With a hard bump from running in fast
A rope was fastened—quick, and down
The boat made way with the water
The boy made feet with wooden ground

Cold rushed from the river valley out
Nothing held the boy more in life
Than to be out near the Mighty Mississippi
In the dwindling hours of night

As children we are exposed to habits which prove a tradition
As adults we revisit those events to see what lessons were given.

June 3, 2014

Too Late

Lack of telling
Lead to lack of knowing

One call could have stopped it all,

One call
Came
After one wait

Telling you that you had lost it all

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