Posts tagged ‘walking’

February 16, 2015

When does Spring return?

The city bus hums to me
As I wind through wet streets.

A stoplight shouts “wait”!
From a four-corner crossing.

White flakes fall heavy, thick—
Clouding a straight-line view.

We walk along the way wondering:
When does spring return?

February 11, 2015

Out of the Everyday Ordinary

Our days can be acutely measured:

Bus schedules, warm showers, and brushed pearly teeth,
A bag full of books to read, a cigarette, and a high priced coffee—

Between

The
Texts assigned,
And the texts read.

Between

The
Messages sent,
And the ones in our head.

It is:

Ticking around daily as a fine-tuned clock,
How out of the everyday ordinary it is to get lost—

February 10, 2015

Grey Sky Day

Overcast clouds open to
A downfall of frozen crystals;

Which sparkle broken on the ground,
Under foot.

A straight wind carries me off – strong,
To far, to present, to past;

Grey sky day
Take me away.

Weather which is not to be overlooked.

November 24, 2014

Coffee Croissant and Cigarette

I’ll take a coffee croissant and cigarette-
To pull me out of this cold,
To help me forget.

I’ll take a coffee croissant and cigarette-
Deep chills in the wind,
Heavy bundled at best.

I’ll take a coffee croissant and cigarette-
Miracles do happen,
However snow comes ubiquitous, wet.

I’ll take a coffee croissant and cigarette-
People have needs,
When hands are full satisfaction is met.

I’ll take all of the above, because if I look below I see: Ice. Salt. and Snow.

August 7, 2014

downtown La Crosse, circa 2006.

Buying the Tribune
in the morning
in downtown La Crosse,
velvet touch-

A Coffee,
walk the redbrick sidewalk.

Past the Bodega,
and Chairs,
and last night’s Cigarette Butts,

washing dishes in the back of some restaurant.

Faux-Progressive airs;
Talking a lot, stale-
actions and words; NOTICE: they talk a lot.

Burnt-Out Transcendentalists,
watching drunks, and pre-cancer patients and cars being parked—

Save the day.

Wearing shorts under blue skies.

Call clandestine spies, looking up at the corner apartment window-
wondering what’s inside__
… As she wakes,

long legs lie.

Moving, thinking, that fresh brewery smell, now new adult.

In summer heat- beating down,
The Mississippi River on the breeze—cesspool,

I walked back from where I had come
trying to not feel so numb.

Because I had to walk back.

April 10, 2014

The Sense of Morgen

Morning language of foreign affairs
Out the door, across the lawn
A man lip-syncs silent frustrations
Coming light exposes woken dawn

From afar becoming freshly shaven
Supple smooth shining firm at distant sight
Exposed shoulders soft warm- they smolder
Bending and twisting with purposeful might

Flattened fur amongst fallen fodder
Stepping past on sprung gait fore longed
Hesitate to walk, they jump at a ponder
A flock of Birds sing their sweetly song

Traverse moving, coming forth
Up the stairs straight along the rail
I come passing through the door
Winds up blowing leaves as a sail

Dimmed light inside; night, upon the daily rags
I grab one staggering past as a lady bends
Hands pull and from the rack this pulp drags
Front cover to see what this issue lends:

Of riots it talks, never had that haughty celebration
Of pay it talks, we aim to change the penurious situation
Of development it talks, can we mount this station for payment?
Of research it talks, for progress searching for inspiration

Take a seat and read, the day’s been made
Take some time to think of all these claims.

***
This rests in between reality and not.

March 11, 2014

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead Dead

Full shoes rock smuggler

In the basement before dirt

Hopscotch walk muddler

Parted smirk with mirth

 

In a place with no character

We (they) find a shiny coin

 

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern

Are insignificant to a point

 

No spokes in the wheel; full circle

Disdain, now, no wound to ‘oint

 

The Players show empathy to Ros and Guil, no disjoint ;

they are also at the mercy of the elements i.e. Hamlet

They desperately avoid blunder and blood red moist

However they can’t undo fate with any willed choice

 

Lifestyle of livelihood

Real-life social effect

In that case I’m dead

Fractionally:  Yes

 

They’ve been gone this whole time

stuck with inquistion in purgatory

They relive this act on track

This fact amends the story

 

We see it in un-, sub-, and supernatural forces:

They are caught in between.

 

Heads

Heads

Heads

Heads

And so on…

January 23, 2014

American Excess

The things we do

New tattoo cool

 

Trendy trading sexes

Serious life decisions

 

Free times we live in

We all need an intervention

 

What happened to happy with self?

Forget what I’ve mentioned

 

In good health

Struggle to get out of the haus

 

Make a statement

Cut from local cloth

 

Parts of the pavement

Thoughts we’ve engaged in

 

That which we’ve lost

 

Success:

American trivial astonishment

Humble in this jungle

Exhale smoke

Wash the sex with soap

 

Moments at the bar to recollect

Just out of respect

 

Death

Drugs

Expensive car wrecks

 

Celebrity intellect (what’s that?)

 

Rock and Roll

Hand prints in wet cement

 

What they expect (?)

Reluctant when stressed

 

Ich bin immer…

 

This is what an idiot looks like

Plenty to view in this modern societal zoo

 

Don’t feel bad

-Ya know, I’m there-you too?

 

All the best,

American regret

 

***

 

Life is hard for some

I’m more worried about my walk to school in the present tense…

January 22, 2014

Traveling Through to Poland

Anita adorning green from Poland had the bravery to walk up and ask…

 

She asked where the Mississippi was, this and that

She wanted a bar with windows, a view of the flowing ice mass.

 

We walked and chatted

She wanted us to ‘make’ a photo of her as proof-we did as a matter of fact.

 

On we walked

On a wet path

On snow covered bricks

Puddles parted and splashed.

 

Along we stepped in boots and made tracks.

 

She came from a short stay in Hawaii, apparently living out of a pack

All in all it was 2 day’s travel, both there and back.

 

She smiled and said she didn’t understand why Americans got such a bad rap.

 

We were polite, and smiled, and spoke English softly; explaining this place-amateur history, semi-exact.

 

She took in what she could

We gestured and pointed with hands and tact.

 

She was so happy to meet us

We said goodbye and went on separate paths.

December 9, 2013

From Books to Blogs; A Story of Evolution

 

From books to blogs like cats and dogs;

We’re surrounded by a million writers with a million words,

Wanting to get read and be heard- absurd.

 

Zombies scare me less.

 

How to Be a Famous Writer:

Start today, don’t delay, and get on your way.

Print press doesn’t pay like they say.

It only takes a few seconds to change your ways.

 

Like Flies on Shit.

 

What’s an artist’s wage?

Cost per page?

Adverts?

 

MPR broadcasts their crying.

You’d think people were dying.

 

Do they even fucking read?

 

I could hardly hold back my laughter.

 

Then we look at progress, and the prospects.

Not finding a silver-lining.

 

No room for wining and dining.

 

You find that surprising?

 

No one’s getting fatter.

 

This hobby wasn’t to fill any part of any wallet.

Act like Author Gods but they haven’t yet penned their ‘Hobbit’.

Just minds and thoughts figuring how those unique (everyone) call it.

They were so close, but they lost it.

 

I want to vomit.

 

I don’t see.

They follow what they want to be.

Flee to the next scheme…

 

But sadly others have been there before; up, down, and in between; twice, three times, maybe four.

Do we need anymore?

 

Can we chart forward progress by going backward?

 

Recline, sit in a chair.

Analyze, document, look, read, compare,

Tense up and think about how life is unfair.

 

Are you prepared?

 

Open Market, Open Mic, there’s an Open Season on the Weekend Artist tonight.

-Awake and aware of the unawares.

-Happily, a positive outlier without a care.

Counter parts rest comfortably under stairs.

 

Understand the standard deviation and mean,

But not meaning to be mean-

 

All part of the artistry in the Minneapolis Scene,

Wipe ass with freshly torn pages.

 

Print press has changed throughout the ages,

And they present new material as if it’s not dated…

 

Faded yellow on a dusty shelf. 

He called it sleeping knowledge.

I think his popularity needs help. 

 

And all of those resources have been wasted.

They don’t factor external cost,

They can’t calculate their displacement*.

 

At least hope and ambition aren’t lost.

 

 

*http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Displacement_(psychology)

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