Posts tagged ‘weather’

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.

February 9, 2015

The Traffic Moves Without You

On a bridge
In broad daylight,

Somewhere in Minneapolis—

Between something is the metaphor…

Below light rail trains and buses pass,
The sun is out, yet it is cold.

Alas, we have mirages in Minnesota too—
Desert quality right here, local.

I shiver.

*

The highway buzzes; 35W is Nascar, and gridlock, and exits;
People are frantic, manic and relentless.

Commuters are driving into downtown,
Between high-rise shrines proof sponsored by your dollar.

But you can only watch.

*

On East Bank:
Students are walking fast to class,
Near traces of snow, they appear fleeting for February.

Is it spring yet?
Can a poet get two cigarettes?

See what others exhale.

*

Coffman Union is aflutter,

Not with birds,
Or domestic animals,

More so with paper and motion,
Punctual devotion for the prestigious scholar;

Little trappings and emotions,
A queue to loosen the tight collar.

Trash bins stand, cement benches sit, and the air moves through carrying few leaves and even less sentiment.

Though, they are evidence of last fall.

*

A lifetime ago, standing on a bridge like this would have been the future,
But it is now,

Somehow.

Here is to another day in the crowd,

Somehow.

The traffic moves without you.

February 8, 2015

Downtown Minneapolis by way of Nicollet, by way of bike, by way of bus, by way of foot; the puzzle pieces which we’ve put in

On one sunny Saturday,
Through Nicollet on two wheels,
Over the Central avenue bridge
Above the Mississippi unclean—

Ahead along this busy way
Skyscrapers jutted through fog,
Vehicles slid moving quickly past
On pale snowmelt roads—

Downtown became a beautiful trap
For tourists and newsstands,
Dirty buses carried riders:
The working and the unengaged—

Fed pigeons saunter the ground low,
As artistic homeless flew their signs,
People wore designer sunglasses
Lest the sun blind their eyes—

And they layered in light bundles,
Standing heavy in their packs,
Slung purses, scarves, and rucksacks,
Watching cautious, avoiding attack—

Mirrored window reflections
Caught the lights of fire engines,
Ambulance flashes and sounding sirens
Made attentive onlookers stare—

Groups walked by to restaurants
So some could sit and sip a beer,
Others ate a late hungover breakfast
Watching soccer, giving cheers—

And I with my family went,
For the Foshay stood in the sky,
Stepping on lively marble stone
We viewed and passed the time—

Breaking at each stop light met
Cross traffic moved in front,
Bits of the city puzzle fell out;
For new hands to put them back—

January 26, 2015

Cold Campus Commute

The connector bus sways

On each turn and pass,

As students await in cold,

Near snow, behind glass.

January 23, 2015

Pages of the City

The city center has
Been filled with

Trash.

These spots to grab attention,
To make you buy: react.

Local rags remain,
Good at that, and intact.

Though,

What stands out is
The importance they lack.

We have books by the stack,
Micro-brewed beers,
Diverse weather,
And bike paths.

We have beaches
In the summer months to relax,
And theatres like
The Guthrie to see acts.

Local mags don’t really map that;
They attack,

-With photos, lists, and ads.

Painting a picture without paving a path,
They write on setting precedent, because they can’t.

***
I suppose one day I will be surprised when an article proves friendly to my eyes.
But only after realizing how much effort was put into marketing to my demographic.

January 22, 2015

On a Street in the Metro

The remnants of this weather on the ground;
Chemicals on a slick, snow plow.

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.

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.

November 16, 2014

Snowscape

This Snowscape so quiet;

Not a bird,
Not a car,
Not a sound…

Whiteness covers the world,
Layering atop the frozen ground.

November 9, 2014

Sunday, November 09, 2014.

It is no Sunday, November 09, 2014.
Or any day…

It is a surreal institute
Of darkness in oppressing clouds
Looking down, waiting, coming-
Wrapping round;

Tangible—insistent, proud-
Turning breath to steam, to puffs, muting sound,
To daggers in the chest-
These real proper effects!

It is not any day,
Or any Sunday, November 09, 2014.
But the weather,
But the pressure.

Felt in measures.

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