Archive for October, 2016

October 31, 2016

hallowed direction

heavy clouds and dead leaves
ran to new seasons,
spinning in cool tempered winds
caught under purple horizons,
where and when harvesters see it too,
muted reflections,
crumpled foliage.
for a moment, trepidation shakes
in trees, and cars
going nowhere now,
unmistakeable and unknown,
rustled in all directions.
this hallowed direction ’round me.

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October 30, 2016

dreary sunday

sunday, when candles burn,
when tired rugs sleep,
when time does nothing
but crawl forward
to the coming future,
when tomorrow is another monday,
much disliked, much despised,
and talk is always so drably
forlorn– such a tragedy.
this is when and how
i beg for ice 9,
i pray for a time machine
to instill religion in me better,
to make sunday slow sabbath.
i could smile longer.
i could be more kind.
i have faith in hope and fate
on this dark dreary sunday,
when i think of new seasons
as plasticed windows droop.

October 29, 2016

When does dying start?

I think of death as a conversation, similarly, it starts with a firm handshake. What is said gets carried on long after the goodbyes. Each word, each thought, each barb or banter, each metered exchange, each storied glance. After death I find this the same. We conjure up each moment spent and make it our own–shape it, only true to the above. Decomposing as drying fallen leaves. No complete, no perfect. To receive no answer. Only stirring silence. I guess at the beginning it starts. Somewhere around birth or a handshake. Look into those eyes and begin to speak.

October 28, 2016

loving the art

i am no grant writer,
i keep a simple blog;
as an unsolicited writer,
carte blanche & song.

*

i think you should write too.

October 27, 2016

“I”

O’ “I”,

the what
the quaint
the real,

Unburdened
the person,

interpret

the “I”
that I feel.

***

So,
that’s all.

I mean.

October 27, 2016

Missing Transit

Late, so late
I miss something.
Again, I miss something.
Leaves line my way.
Open window clearing,
A stranger holds
A coffee mug;
Face discouraged.
Recycling piled
The quiet streets.
A plane flies overhead.
Store fronts dark.
Bicyclist lit.
Turtle sandbox strewn.
Again, leaves along decay.
Dunlap, in St Paul.
The sidewalk pathway.
Skeleton for trees
Breeze for heat.
Welcome lights alone.
Farther from home.
Faded traffic.
Trying to catch up.
For the 67 left me.
Walking fast where I go.
Walking fast, go.
The light rail left me.
Just standing here.

October 26, 2016

daily reader

i read the newspaper
backwards today,
from the bottom up,
each sentence slowly,
word for word
left left left left…
one at a time
to make the story
come out differently,
better, in hopes
for posterity and that.
well, no such luck.
and on a rainy gray day.
when i reached the top
i found that
i was at today’s date,
& still confused,
& still wondering at
how fiction could appear
so viscerally spun. 

October 23, 2016

delineate the fall, scene 1

mornings like these
leaves come crashing
through the limbs
of stiffening trees

where fat squirrels
bound like jack rabbits
in search of
something to call winter shelter

inside the silhouette paint
of an autumnal tie-dye day
thermometers point,
inside, they spin at change

what sound of cut silence
delineated by robins call
a bus, the 67 going by,
Pileated Woodpecker
and a “V” flown southeast

our house cat mows grass at
my pale naked feet,
on some cool broken sidewalk
merely rented–what to own?

entryway of flowery vine
as stairs coming alive
at this venture of fallen
dead photosynthesis–dry leaf dying

i imagine if it
thought to spark a moment
in the morning mind
of some drifter standing

i imagine it like
it was some actor being told
to “ACTION!” by
some muted invisible god
in the distance biding its time

(fall to the set)

October 18, 2016

introduction, american opinion

meet melting pot america.
meet freedom of speech.
meet upset by freedom of speech.
meet why so mean america?

meet wow, i am confused.
meet holy shit, what freedom?
meet let’s change this idea.
meet we try to do and do right.

meet not broken don’t fix it.
meet individual in a group.
meet thoughts of talk and action.
meet make, make, make, and make.

meet comes with the territory.
meet that’s life, so they say.
meet i love Dr. Seuss…
meet cry baby, why baby?

meet the reality that is, and why.
meet why change, instead love.

October 16, 2016

trumpscare

this Hercules coffee
& sleepless dreams,
got me shaking the cold off,
happy to be seen.