July 25, 2016
in elementary school
i used to violently shake
chocolate milk cartons
until they were mixed
sweet as milk shakes.
i learned something
if you don’t like
what you get, stir things up
a bit to your liking.
i still do this activity
on occasion today,
shake, stir, twist–
just not with milk cartons,
tho i still muck with taste.
June 12, 2016
amidst trailing bluffs above oil-rainbowed waters
where a man at the bow shot arrows at gar with a bow
a boy floated into the mind of a new man dad,
focused on churning barge death dealt
coming in cool crossed wakes,
water’s spray, fish gut aroma & cracked beers,
wetting the hand and drying the mouth,
jet boat reprieve wading at Stoddard calm—
above a dam, pissing swimming pants at the back,
speaking of motorbiking to Iowa for a pack of smokes
and a gallon of water, going 110 mph: passing cars,
hiding weekend fun from a sheriff’s skiff
going so fast on by that we couldn’t tell,
back up to just below Cass Street bridge in peak heat,
the kind that grows on you in color
and only halfway through a no wake zone,
halfway wishing i was with my love,
halfway somewhere: growing old, staying awake,
sipping pina coladas, bumming cigarettes,
and spraying thick sticky suntan lotion clouds
not long after the occurrence of already changing red,
my crushed fedora & new frames sans transition lenses,
this real life escape. something like a
last-minute decision over a landline,
moments later he picked me up saying: we’re late.
June 5, 2016
On a hunch I sauntered slowly
into fresh borne south of
this driftless region driveway
thinking of a town so small
and so brilliant with newness
that dove’s coos came warmer,
more complex and calming
in cascaded light,
sparrows tangoed along eaves,
nests bulged with twigs above a door—
turning back, I’d see every bump
on simple alien surface streets,
no moving cars, no people, just…
the newspaper there, on time.
7 years as never seen before,
mixed emotions at the thought:
could the paper boy have forgot,
to the end of the cement I went,
where straight lines and nature’s debris,
where I saluted hand over
brow to shield from a blindingness,
so practiced and so readied
the veteran orb could retire happy,
here street signs and crab trees sighed,
and we’d all freeze to death just
below shouldered green hills advancing
with leathered leaves flapping
sans our wrapped Sunday Tribune,
or the will to go anywhere else.
May 15, 2016
a million people
a million excuses
only to find
in the first place
is for others
i am bad
and staying put
May 14, 2016
a pale storm cell of creamer in my cup
rolling from glass bottom straight up
a mind awakens this alarm clock blues
roused from slumber slightly amused
March 26, 2016
La Crescent, where a beautiful quaintness.
La Crescent, where a space to breathe.
December 27, 2015
I find myself
as a vehicle,
September 9, 2014
Fall comes just as our sneakers have worn in
Our bike seats touch familiar under buttocks
Dying grass and flowers thin; bend in the wind,
Tree’s leaves affect intensely displayed colors.
Pools close and drain, with new frost to blame.
Mothers count their wandering curious young.
A yellowing sun grows faint, shadowing its loss.
Fathers light expensive brown cigars for fun.
Dogs and cats play-excited, loud and rowdy,
Leaves and debris blow thru them in the yard.
Cold holidays come nearer, passing yet again,
Each year grows tired, cold, aloof, and hard.
On destiny we wait; fleeting speed of time,
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter yet again align.
September 7, 2014
People cross me once
I don’t think twice,
Piece by piece
From the inside,
Do you see?