Posts tagged ‘University of Minnesota’

December 13, 2014

On the Corner of Washington and Oak St. SE (Finals Week)

Where snowmelt and papers
Coalesce in the street,
Tense busy-minded scholars
Move fast on their feet.

November 4, 2014

Lind Hall in the Fall

Minus an hour,
Gained moonlight;
In the cold wind that blows,
Under moonlit skies.

Trees spoke to shadows—distant,
As the wind rustled
Through long hung dried leaves.

-A paper-rattle crescendo.

Night fell in the Fall;
With these empty halls, abandoned stairs, to exit doors freely.

What a season came in,
What off cry sustained.

September 22, 2014

How To: King of Notecards

King of Notecards
Working so hard

Excessive paper;
Academic waivers

Obsessed with syllabus
And what’s killing us

Oh(!) true
So few

Read a book
Write a story-

Become moved… (episteme and glory)

Ruling Notecards to
See memory through

How about you?

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 3, 2014

Day One: Campus Type

Cigarette ashes hang like eyelashes

of campus distractions,

from broken hand sinewy seams

this be the death of me-

 

…  and some;

carless,

embarrassed,

 

No Feelings: numb.

 

American Literature and computer generated poetry; as art- good start to the semester, the sun is out in all its glory.

 

Covered in leather and bruises, she moves, tattooed, wounds fester, pimple-faced and searching for pleasure and adventure, no more mommy and daddy leisure.

 

It’s true.

 

Beautiful green lost confused, children adults on the move; me too,

How about you?

 

Choose.

 

Brilliant fulfillment,

United States we live in, lucid livid.

 

Self –surgery

type urgency.

 

Bearing my frown like a leaky raincoat in the center of this rainstorm,

maintaining a productive stance on consuming all there is to absorb.

 

Advice: Mornings are easier when you don’t drink every night,

but for what I’ve just seen I just might.

 

Educate me on this system.

Please, teach me now. 

July 14, 2014

Cold Day July

Hot Coffee
Cold Day
Blue Sky
Why complain?

Books to entertain,
Existing on this plain.

Between life,
insight,
Likes
Bikes and Lakes-

There is nothing but happiness along the way.

July 13, 2014

Sociopolitical

Sociopolitical,
as lipstick and licorice;
kiss with the tongue,
hard feelings then diminish.

We won’t mention that again.

She said she’s always fine,
the next week she died.

I have the text to prove it.

-Found her along a country roadside
with holes and blood and mud.
The Sunday newspaper said it as
a matter of fact- Just. Like. That.

We had this one class together…
-Fremdsprachen, Deutsch.

Who writes that shit anyway?
It can’t be real-

Those papers…

A life that lacks is labeled as that.
A life on track is labeled as that.

Hands tied, for gosh sakes!
Bright white lines,
Coldest milk shake,
I was on Valium so I don’t remember that day- anyway.

Then the poetry reading was over…
So was everything else-

No apprehension
No hesitation.

What’s tension?
We mention:

Now-a-days,
A lifetime away,
Full of choices
Did you hear them voices?

And you thought for a walk.
And you thought for a talk.
And you made art with chalk
that did not last so long.

-Some cloudy milk transparency.

But that was all you did,
then you slept-

after the sun had left.

***

Also, danke schön Pakistan.
Story: A patron puts one hundred-dollar bills inside of the books he returns only to promote reading.

July 8, 2014

Commuting on Como

Up,
Pedaling through
Como Avenue.

Alongside shared-living apartments
Neon-signs cluttered storefronts.

Following is
the
summer sun,
heat,
and sweat.

7 years ago I was more acquainted
There was so much to forget.

There was sun and snow,
Heartbreak and elation,
Sex and lies, good times;
Things called by other names, situations.

Past trees which grew
Broken glass from bottles drunks threw
Stand lampposts which haven’t moved
These quiet streets, home for rocks, sand, and dust- below shoes.

Maneuvering, wondering if the old neighbors were still alive.

Winter stuck in a basement
Bright light outside
Warm only within
-Hiding eyes behind dingy broken blinds.

Father stopped in around Christmastime
I was with a she who left like the wind.

Found in moments betting on the weather.

Two doves,
A cat,
Empty bottles,
Trash amassed; pieces of me mixed between.

Now I ride by this old familiar place.

Remembering,
Biking,
Thinking,

How did this town get so small?
How did I get so big?

***
She once said: biking is the best way to learn the city; Minneapolis is the biggest small town around.

June 4, 2014

Local Odds and Ends

Currently my ears are to The Current:
1.) I need to do a membership drive.
2.) I need to tell you what I have to offer.

You may need me.

The someday sun guides these moments,
Skimming and scanning words for entertainment.

Dessa Darling writes of trendy folk
Sitting somewhere in Uptown
In a hyped-up exclusive dive
She frequents all the time.

…How natural.
Feeling somewhat deprived…

Locally famous can get you work—
Haven’t you heard?
Can one person tell us of life?
Exposing us to worth

__Describe what to like,
And what’s cool, new, and authentic! (Right?)

Stories retold
Mundane to old
Fresh to mold
Hot to cold
And I digress,

I do so, but
So it goes.

Who decides the content?
What did they accomplish?

A fine print promise

Only allowing what we should know;
Ads and Marketing pave the road.

Candle to the sun
Eyes attempt escape
Another torn notion
Another empty page

We read on:
We read on.

Their sales people and prospectors betray
Their photo editors have much to display
Constantly political in profitable ways
Constantly cynical; printing what pays

And we run off to a book, to a poem, to a forest, to a river,
To hear nothing but the truth.

May 30, 2014

The Death of Dinkytown

Consorted constructs
Moving,

Pressing forward–

View the new rubble of Old Dinkytown;
One can witness history’s deconstruction firsthand.

Cars, trucks, dust, dirt and trash,
Catalyst set in motion for cash.

Landmarks traveling by the bucket load
Motives directed by greased-tainted plans
Structures confound
Expats return to these unfamiliar lands

Sidewalk seating on patios
Leisurely sitting patrons relax
Hotels and High-rises impose
On storefronts that won’t last

Coming up from the ground
These trite hollow dwellings

Capitalistic stories in stories;
Transparency of circumvention, they remain—foretelling.

Few set about shaping a city of many with their money, their interests, and their greed.

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