Archive for ‘dialogue’

December 20, 2015

new sunday (amassing life)

the objective thermostat here
is hard butter on a dirty
busy kitchen countertop.
other contraptions don’t work.
i am front page, B & C,
and Columbia Heights business.
they want coffee shops for
auto care, they want a place
to find what they need.
they, they, they, but who?
this is sunday with my nose
in a creased Star Tribune.
i am at home with Jazz 88(.5),
with the smell of burnt sourdough.
that which surrounds creates.
sounding the packaging from
yesterday’s christmas market parade;
that was money well spent.
coffee travels with it in aromas and
heat to our morning stomachs.
empty then, now made stuffed full.
just two grown up children
at a register, talking about getting
quarters for laundry, where baristas
broke food & beverage codes,
and what goes on later that day was told.
i don’t want to get sick, i just want.
i love the short weekends for
what they are, for what our
society allots a persona like me. i can
afford this for just five days of paid toil
out of the lengthy work week, and
i think, it might be worth the wait.
new sunday measuring the warmth,
running in the cold; we are finding two
for five for a 40 hour amassing life.
and that is how exactly i am i.

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December 11, 2015

one second of drying

outside of the shower
you take account
the rows,
things neatly lined.
here is the liquid soap
with the teal loofa,
here are dull metal hooks;
here is this dangling
accessory kit just there,
at a windowsill
with its garden,
near smudged-up glass.
these items, now, they hang,
casting shadows
and drops. no mission
of their own, just there.
outside of the shower
you take account
the rows. like them aligned
your day is in
fits and motions,
letting that come off
while certain others reflect.

November 11, 2015

1 part coffee, 1 part jazz, 1 part broken

i may be these broken
parts on the floor
watching steam rise

as a radio is
sounding thru-out the kitchen
with jazz and ads.

louis armstrong
is my close-knit
companion with
the trumpet, the band.

silence from the cat,
hum from the patchwork streets,
this is most likely
waking up in Southeast.

here is chemistry:
water steamed,
a rich coffee aroma;
a cracked door cold;
oatmeal, raisins,
and brown sugar, hot.

i am making this easy, poignant,
simple, needed, necessary
amalgamation.

still sitting lazy style,
legs in a pile,
on the hard
wooden floor,

recounting when to
pour it all together
to that sound,
to that feel.