Archive for ‘humanity’

April 4, 2018

shells of us

judging a book’s cover, imagine my face imaging.
infinite sides to a story, to a story’s story, but i know.
my flesh tells a tale, probably, as yours does too.
drawn in the blood of i forget them, never met, who cares i guess.
Passover at Easter, some pink ham in me again, belching.
nothing like anything. nothing like i just exist.
broken short nails, overgrown cuticles and shining bald spots.
adult acne keeps me younger than you might think i am.
alphabet soup of words keeps me sane.
reflections of thin air, in thin air scares, wisps.
clowns were in that movie of course, dark rooms, found footage.
still, i see apostles for anything relevant: novel sorts.
new, spring, green, now, on top of the every-thing, any-thing that is
trending hashtag section of their Twitter feeds.
until tomorrow’s Godzilla prowls painting a new-thing to hate,
until the next big no-thing, the next day.
then you do what they say, like clockwork spinning good, wait.
and you want to be different, unique.
then you tell them how much you can relate.
i guess they covered this on the cover. forget this poem.

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March 31, 2018

When I Commute from Hamline/Midway in St Paul to the East Bank of Minneapolis at 7:20 in the Morning and back at 5:15 in the Evening, it’s a very personal experience that I will share with you because you are part of it too and everything and you should know

outside, on the street, other drivers can’t drive.
i mean they drive, but badly.
going on University Avenue to CVM by Surly
i realize this frequently, daily, to my surprise…
i want to see all my surroundings at once,
close captioned, in HD, real-time,
over 280, let me explain.
people choose not to use their turn signals,
they choose to not stay in their own lane,
they find illegal parking on the side by Dunn Bros…
when we pay taxes we pay for both sides of the road, i get it.
at West Gate Station, get ready to abruptly stop, always.
Get ready to get looked at hard, in a not nice fashion.
there is no open road freedom.
further, pedestrians look at crosswalks like patrons look at art at the MIA.
here, nothing special to see, white lines, no meaning apparently; awe-inspiring.
i am stuck in Frogger, these are the frogs, i am the cars.
try me, run for the train.
when i sit shotgun i am a shackled dictator repeating:
slow down, babe!
watch out, babe!
OMG, don’t tailgate, please, i know this person loves
causing accidents…its probably
an insurance scam waiting to happen…
see those dent’s, i can tell they are texting and driving 3 cars away.
what a nice person, what a great driver, i substitute curse words.
i like to think about things like that, and potholes.
they make the moon landing less believable, these craters on earth.
both cities, just please fix the fucking roads.
this is in my head i never say it.
only more cordially or through art…
i don’t care about politics because they just talk.
just make it so i can get to somewhere without destroying my vehicle,
at least when i am in the beautiful city of, i am between.
if i wanted to off-road most days i would go to the farm.
still i am offered excuses, told how hard it is, all at once, patience.
as an adult who pays taxes, officially, and who drives a leased Subaru
i can appreciate the idea of better infrastructure
for logical reasons like having nice things, if you can’t agree
that’s not for me…
but again, outside, other drivers can’t drive.
and, now, the construction site that took away our child’s daycare
to make cheaply built expensive high-rise condos
also takes away the single lane
after they took away the double lane a few weeks back.
and i got no condolences, i make nothing off it only lost time.
it’s hard to apologize for wanting better roads
and better drivers on those roads, and people to get off
their phones, and for some dangerous bikers to be careful, to choose a side.
i guess for a safer and better life for all, a better community…
that’s initiative today, just complain about it.
i can’t recall the last time
i didn’t pay for insurance, tabs, plates, gas,
parking, repairs, oil changes, general maintenance, deductibles for insurance
after hitting a twilight rodent; that’s just life tho, my choice, i know.
but other drives, O, it’s so hard to understand them!
and they breeze by and scowl like i have a problem!
(probably it’s me too, we are all to blame.)
and they act like they have never wronged or sinned or failed,
or mistakes don’t happen to them, ever. i think we know better.
that’s America though; we never do wrong. they do, right?
we are all Gentlemen Animals, no different. human animals.
covering so that the Thought Police don’t get to us at some point.
but the Thought Police are Facebook and Twitter and WordPress and GMail…
but other drivers out there, please drive safe you add value.
i don’t know, i love you because unless i am eating
i talk, so i would make a bad spy… and you are great.
i don’t know, i like the view to curtail this complaint or Ode,
it’s beautiful, i race trains and buses and
the sun’s glare from St Paul in the east. i see all people,
and i love them, even as drivers, commuters, they are part of my day and me.
it’s a perfect way to get to where you need to go.
it’s a perfect way to be a part of it.

February 12, 2018

point the finger

the tragedy of our misadventure
begins when we blame others
for where we stand now.

February 3, 2018

Cub on Larpenteur yesterday

the Cub on Larpenteur
let me know
what i never wanted to do again…
allow myself to be treated low.
i never wanted to do that in the first place.
had to to pay the rent at first tho.
still that fear that lives in my head.
still there is a future out there.
thoughts: maps, directions: how did i get here?
he was an old man beyond driving wind, pushing carts.
no reprieve, no help–he told it all to some kid walking in.
– wonder how he got there?
i will go some other way, away.
surprises, changes, alterations, non-linear.
he told his colleague. up close. personal.
this was him and not him and this was him.
i don’t want that path, i don’t want that.
kaleidoscope of me spinning, no peace.
i walked past to chicken, beer, whiskey, a cashier, etc.
could not see a wedding band on his hardened hands.
wasn’t sure if he was wearing gloves.
at the ground, at the lot, at the cars…
highwaters, dark, wet, soaked, dried, stained; do it again next day.
does anyone have to have pain?
didn’t matter, let me know.
didn’t matter, let me know. let me go.
didn’t matter, no one saw this but me i guess.
six years ago, i did six years, i figured.
i bought my things and carried on, had to go, goodbye.
i think this old-timer stayed. not sure why.
i guess we all gotta eat.

December 24, 2017

the ultimate distraction that nobody mentions, too busy with everything else (millennial debt)

I am ready
for the #consumerism this year to end,
my dragon to slay.
This money, that money, where? donate!
Ready to be more #frugal,
like peanut butter sandwiches
continuing every day until I am #debtfree.
I wonder if goals even exist.
I think more people should #protest that,
protest debt by ending it: mine, theirs, et al.
Instead outside blaming, pointing, aging, etc.
Do that, I suppose. Or don’t.
Sort of some responsibility.
Then worry about everything else.
Because you are owned by your debt,
but you don’t really care until you know.
That plastic, that is you.
The banks that you fund.
They are all in the shadows laughing, watching, pointing you on.

November 28, 2017

iPresence

MN: land of infinite dusk,
this time of year again, comes on strong
like Old Crow or Evan Williams or let downs.
those arguments last longer,
depthless debate, soulless embrace–stalling
the shades–undrawn, hanging,
that’s life they say,
to each their own they say,
cast their shadows like Slender Man at Eagle Bluff,
throwing shade like raw hate (on character)
and Halloween scares on 10/31: no porch lights,
no needs, no worries
just wanting… how to relax, kick back,
when our day has terminal cancer
and our moments are surely gone
and our time is on autopilot, disconnected,
all decided before us?
and for what?

go protest, iPresence.
can’t even, i see.

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 21, 2017

auspicious believers (so i cant. so i wont.)

we can never know or understand relateable language no matter the familiarity in whatever function we choose to fancy.  interpretations involve smells and times and deaths and climes and thoughts that no longer exist; bygone dusts could tell better stories, persuade better truths.

i reach for douglass and derrida, and they ask me not to in their words, but i don’t know or understand the meaning.  they say our nostrils could not handle the 1800s and we use words from that season in ways we couldnt image.

tell me its wrong young scholar, fad intellectualists, your precise wisdom is your precise debt.  trapped in a box.  chained.  shackled.  nailed in.  it won’t be the last time.  mind askewed biased abused.  never knowing language; i teach it too.  want to understand study the single meaning for a life and pull it out timid.

i beg you to caution your wits safety.  close and zip your loose lips.  stick a sock in it, save those ships.  there is no exact exactly.  here is a free lesson.  don’t get me started on labels.  sad fools pretend to command it just as you see and read.  ask them about affect or effect, their there theyre, its and its.  sound familiar?

its not, never will be, never has been, never was.  concomitant, concocted, intermingled, fluid, assumptions that others have brains.  and they work well.  when they spin wheels in voids tending to spires metals and idols just past their eyes, telling you what you are with these same words so sure they arent wrong.  try not to laugh.  so right, believe.

so i cant.  so i wont.  every single word.

May 16, 2017

fresh breath of water

here are words and thoughts.
here are posts and talks.
where we go and where
we dont… rather not say.
rain falls through windows
sideways, kissing a leaden sill.
the broken internet is dead,
that means my castle is down.
ok google, make me rich.
ok google, grant this wish.
ok google, play jazz.
see, that one works–soundtrack to my life.
one works and works and works.
and one really doesnt.
they dont like the prospects, every option.
probably not a pension in protest.
and me too, many things are hard.
i am worried about all these poets
with all their problems–no odes,
saying all of the same things
begging for different, acting as fact similes.
we are and we arent the same and writers.
stand up comedy was much easier, welcoming;
comics want the same thing, yes: a laugh,
and they get it in different ways, yes. that.
i am just wondering, worried.
will be home to teach English in China.
will be home after learning them to read.
will be home some day when i get one,
now i must buy a box–be sure.
a million different reasons
to not be the same, to create change–but talk,
but friends and donations and money
might dictate that. the focus. the appearance.
no one wants to hear about
what i look likes problems.
there are bigger and more unjustices,
there are impossibles that simply must.
i trust that it will smoothly be
ironed out over time by talking heads.
and they keep praying. and stay awokened.
tell me to believe, hard to do now.
i cite science, but i respect all religions;
that is not a dichotomy, that is reality.
i am just looking for my free lunch,
and my wife and my sons, and everyone else’s too,
an ad hoc lottery ticket: to win,
and some time to find some time.
when i do i promise to buy you something…
no one knows though,
and our roof disappears in July,
as the money did for my emergency health.
all in the same fish bowl
trying to find the fresh water and good shade
and not get called out for it.
buying the cheapest beer,
hardly eating anything at all.
enjoying what i did in the past more and more.
man, i was living the dream then and now.
and that is how i got here, you too. 🙂

May 13, 2017

he died doing what he loved

the day before my dad died
my grandma told me to call him,
she handed me the phone and i dialed.
he answered and asked me to visit him in Lanesboro.
per usual, of course i couldnt,
i was busy marrying my cousin
and her new husband,
i was to fish brook trout and hunt morel
at an expansive farm in Highland, MN.
he told me about how midget strippers
were from that area
and he told me he could fly me in a plane
back to the Cities on Sunday. and he could truly.
but i get sick on planes, ex: my whole life.
i would tell him that so he didnt feel bad.
i laughed, so did grandma–a-mid-dementia.
now the cat barfs on the windowsill in St Paul
and i cant move to clean it.
you read, he told me this story.
that was the last i knew of his soul.
now i want an old motorcycle and three kids,
i want a lot of land in the countryside
and to own my own business, sort of like him.
i want to tell rude stories and make people laugh.
all around me is this fabric to weave,
even that old dreaded piece of a phone call
i hide because it worries and bothers
and turns me 4 years younger, less jaded and
more naive. i see him leaving every day is a possibility.
i just wonder when he will come back.
and some believe in ghosts and gods and scripture,
i havent seen much in the way of poltergeists or apparitions;
the afterlife exists now in tongues and no more.
i only feel the ones i never knew
and could care less to just pass
and call my imagination gone astir
or drunken views taken in the timid darkness.
i heard he died doing what he loved a lot,
and when that happens they say it is good.