Archive for ‘america’

June 21, 2017

my schedule.

Sometimes they tell me to not take the train
because of scheduled preventative maintenance.  
So there is a bus, the number 3.  That is OK.  I can deal.  
I’ll have to walk a bit on Lexington.  Anyway, sometimes I read
while on the usual train in the morning,
while sitting next to naked monks speaking in tongues
while fresh girls get out of their seats
and move to the door for fear he might find them evil
or something like snakes to crush.
White spittle crazy in the corner of his lips.  
Then I go to the back of the train too–to get away
and watch reflections on plastic or the sky above
or building’s tops and tree lines.  
Sometimes.  Sometimes we make loud abrupt stops.  
Sometimes I get nauseated and ride the train backwards
on accident or lack of space.  
My mom tells me she might get seasick.  
The green line is great if you like gentrification
that causes rent that makes rental refrigerators empty
and arguments to flare up in summer heat with no AC
like mosquitoes on naked arms near still lakes.  
I don’t care though.  But then I do.
I love the way I get to where I am going.  
Now on the number 3 it will take a bit longer…
It takes me 20 minutes and a few pages to turn.
From there I will have to walk longer in the heat.  
I get some knowledge from my book.
I carry it under my arm and bang my wallet with it–check.
It’s all in my hand, information.
It’s mostly tax free and friendly
and I don’t have to make friends.  
But sometimes it gets canceled
and I realize that it means more to me than most things
because it is so easy (and when it’s not there…)
and it is so convenient
and everyone talks about it
and tells you how great it is
and wishes they could live in a big city
because all these things are close
and nice and expensive and very cool.
But tomorrow I can’t take the train to my regular station.
Probably get a ride and talk about my schedule.

June 19, 2017

dads day

i didnt really get to say much about my dad
on father’s day, but he was a good person.  
biggest funeral la crescent will ever see.
that is with me.  now after 3 years underground
many conversations removed
the same inscrutable believings of what he would have wanted
and everyone trying to get over on that too.
its hard to give reason, excuses or meaning to.  
things, they: just happens.  are how it is.  …and people die.  
yeap, and then i sit here thinking hard
and envision my everything vanish quickly;
was naked in a motel room hungover watching tv getting calls
and i become him for two seconds
hoping that some evil stepparent wouldnt take everything.  
no surprise, it costs currency to see me now;
i am a reborn materialist because
a lots been taken, lost.  it takes unhinged
strength to drive up past grandmas house
and see strangers for the caretakers of where i grew up
unknowing of the past ills and hollowed dust.  
sort of like mine once, how to usurp everything.
the saint-gaudens eagle, the burnt will, the rent to feed mouths.
it makes me soft like nursing homes and very bad news.  
thats why i don’t say much about it anymore.
maybe some day i might change my mind.
maybe some day it wont matter.
maybe some day, anyway.

June 12, 2017

basement vinyl reflection

there is no need to worry
my passwords are foreign languages
the spider webs cocoon me and beams
old light and new light dance just there
a records spins and pictures stand
miserable hours ago though
there is no need to worry exactly
florescence from below, flowers grow
be bold, be bold, be own, old soul.
be alone, confluence with those.
just here skin and bones, skin and bones–all those
acting like they know but they dont
acting, just do it for the show, tho–
there is no need to worry
there is no need to hurry
and then i think about it some more
begin to sweat, begin to whittle
my fragile courage into tooth picks
sitting in a creaky chair and staring
on the floor at my feet in the dust
and the record spins and goes
more of me gone trying to find it too

May 22, 2017

i’ll mow the grass however

when i hear a lawnmower start
in the distance,
i feel guilty for not getting off my ass
and firing up my lawnmower too.  

so when i do i hope
others feel the same.  

tonight under nitrogen and pale
i lit the mower up.  cut arrant dandies.  
went crisscross.  people watched
and i didn’t care.  

cracked a beer.  put on Metallica.  
my wife asked me to be in in less than thirty minutes,
i was spent after 15.  
no problem; sounds like life.  

saw some tubular fungi,
got slicked in the wet blades.  
wore my work clothes and a hoodie.  
got hot like sick.  
raised the wheels.  
this is freedom.  

i let my grass grow high and do not care.  
right here,
smack dab in the best part of the city.  

near transit and what is expensive now.  

i hope you feel guilty
when you hear that combustion fire up too.  
even my ipod took longer to turn over
than that deere.

April 23, 2017

things are pretty hard now

things are pretty hard now…
like buying a house in St Paul
before the 2017 housing market collapse
or opening an English muffin
to make a counterintuitive egg sandwich,
i am wondering if last-week’s leftovers will
make me sick today.
aver that’s how we relate.
legs hurt from kickball and surprises as of late.
head feels like empty pockets
rotting root canal sockets
and a hungover English lesson
on technology through technology
because of technologies outdated;
maybe i’ve taught more than you,
been called “teacher” too,
and still don’t know what to do.
trying to not be the biggest fool
in the biggest fool theory.
i want to build equity
and they want to build an effective wall.
watching for the collapse, the black hole trap.
tooth killing me, what bite.
much to laugh on, no more fight.
you can find me smiling at tragedy.
you can set your robin free.
i found a garden hose
at the corner walk
took it home and saved some money.
there is so much time to go outside.
it will either happen or it won’t.
whatever happens is supposed to.
and i don’t even know if the lawnmower will start.
at the end of the day their speech pattern is the same.
things are pretty hard now…
you should read more about it.

April 5, 2017

social sensitivities

here i see social sensitivities
so let’s stretch
his hands out and ride the 16
to the 67 to wind in the face and more wait…

or really cry about
something that won’t happen, ever.
like justices being served in prison terms;
like i won a million dollars.
and the crux of the biscuit is:

we know jason isbell personally,
sort of through someone else, a best friend,
through someone else, a wife,
through someone else, a bandmate
and probably not.

Bourdain said it right tho…
right there on the tv
with Bill Murray over Budweiser
or whisky or wine or food or jagermeister…

all because of a tee shirt
all because of a wet cough

and some sort of talk about needed monies.
but that’s truly a redundancy.

seeing pretty houses and i might buy mine own
all from the comfort of this overpriced rental,
on my living room couch,
just sitting next to you.

April 1, 2017

Travel Iowa

State lines on 35E.
Sunshine and wind turbines
In a row, forceful pull.
Take hold, take the wheel.
The Shins, The Smiths.
Rest stop to piss, half eat, full nurse
And watch dogs go amiss.
Lines in the road, cement grey for days.
Phone in roam.
Iowa is not my new home
But they have golden corn
And they have painted domes
That look from Russia make.
I mock that Putin built them here himself
In these divided climes.
But we cant take a joke, so no.
Central America; some trick.
Digest raisins, sup coffee;
See blue barns and ads of semis.
Ladies with hands up disgust,
Use your fucking blinkers please,
Wave, thank you much.
And we go, go, go.
Under the pale blue cut wet clouds
Onward to beautiful yards
And brick castles of made design.
And a welcome guest room the same by friends.

March 29, 2017

Grandad Bluff, the Mesa and Giant Monkey Head

i learned that Grandad Bluff is a true mesa
that scans the westerly horizon
and surveils the haunted currents
of the Mississippi.  learned it
wasn’t a giant looming under the soil,
ready to outstretch and become massive.  
though it spired peaks appears
as some monkey ossature, missing abdomen,
fore shoots it’s broken visage grimace.  
heard of people falling off after
being chased by fourwheelers.  used to
drink draught at Witches and Jesus
and imagine the things that happened between trees.  
old times they wanted to turn
it to dust and money but Hixon stopped it.  
thank you Hixon.  i learned about Grandad Bluff
and missed my history because
one was already made before me long ago,
i suppose that is how it is with most things though.  
feel a part, not really, aren’t,
then you read what it is all about.  
still i love La Crosse for what it is:
a port city ready for a cold one
waiting for the weekend
always has your back even
if it’s a total dick sometimes.
and they talk about the water and health.

March 25, 2017

coulee region, 6 am

The rounded mesas
were verdant sheen in predawn hue
and to the east
steam plumes were standing tall
and the sun
when it rose caught river currents
in the fore
so that they came
entwined to one another
on the earth,
the sun all aglow, sharp,
and the river a ghost mirror reflecting,
as if
they were lovers
of common grounds
beyond whose husks melted worlds away
past all understanding.

March 23, 2017

so much variety a person couldn’t find the same publisher in a room of twin publishers, with the same ideologies and inspirations and movements and where their coffers catch ($)

conform
or be
ignored.