Archive for ‘Love’

July 16, 2017

compost in st paul

new life out of old growth
rinds and skins in the compost
tomatoes potatoes and avocados
new plant grows out to the sun

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December 13, 2016

i guess i am afraid too…

i think of our fast time
when and where the fear
holds us tight, when
we tell everyone
how afraid we
are about everything
and anything, everywhere,
so vocally, so knowingly,
and how our ways only
will most likely change that fear.
then i think
about a class that
i took a few weeks back,
one of self-defense, surely,
when and where the
instructor told us all
to not be afraid
of the dark, or not
defend ourselves if we are
and we find ourselves in it.
i mean, it seems so easy,
but the basement can
be really scary, the dark alley
can be truly terrifying,
the misunderstood politician
can seem as the devil incarnate.
and then i remember
looking to outside St Paul,
out on the cold streets,
crusted in white hard snow,
alight with daybreak,
that cold that is out there
in the sun is more
dangerous to us–30 minutes and
you are dead, and that
the summer clothes hanging
in my gloomy basement are
only as scary as i make
them myself, they blow in the wind,
they touch me like shadows,
they do what i tell them
to do in my head. this is what i fear:
the irrational fear of others.
so, i guess i am afraid too…

December 26, 2015

Fat and Bloated

Now is when I feel fat & bloated. I want
to juice cleanse and run and move and not sit
and not eat. Mario Kart seems an appropriate
lecture; people yell and scream at a tv screen.

I witness this while others are starving,
while watching A Christmas Story. Sometimes
I want to shoot my eye out. The flow of this
media is like red velvet-lined handcuffs.

Some die with their hands up on a couch.
The world is cruel. Loved ones are spoken of
at the bar. They died a few warm years back.
Peppermint drinks come in coffee mugs and

in-laws come with drunken cheer, my pants
come taut and Facebook blows up with new
engagements. I wonder if they really know.
Some give support and get it. Others don’t.

Respect comes in consumerism and what
you can bring them, and I still worry about
my weight. My youngest sister tells me I
am skinny. Jesus is on the computer screen.

The bar life in downtown is docile, a perfect
place to feel heavy and finish a $7 pitcher
of Spotted Cow; I feel better already. Growing
farther apart, and bigger, and older, and more

prone to upset all those around me. At least
I feel fat and good being myself. And some
start, and others pick winless battles. Now,
what a great time to feel fat and bloated.

November 24, 2015

Nowheres else

Don’t you know?

You can get it
nowheres else…

Right there it was
and then it was gone.

Goodbye.

Like that lottery ticket found worthless.
Like that dream that you watched die.

You can find it nowheres else
but in your mind.

People talk different
but I dare you to try.

November 23, 2015

why i say “i love you”

saying “i love you”
is not a transaction.
there is nothing
to be given nor
taken away. it just is
that, something said;
all important, all
meaning, poignant,
but only if it is meant.
like taking a breath.
you do or you don’t.
if you do, you are.
if you don’t, you are not.
love is not currency
love just is simply.
and these things we
say make us smile.
and that is mostly why
i say “i love you.”

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.

November 9, 2015

Vetsch Park

cutting through
the wet knoll,
green and heavy,
here let white
steamed breath.
a blanket of
fallen leaves
under foot with
stones and sand,
droppings of
the night, unknown,
as forms and figures
danced in shadows.
at midday this
lone foraged trail
at Vetsch Park;
start to go, climb to
god’s seeing eye,
climb to Stoney Point,
back to the cross, to
the christmas star,
back around to town,
back around on
this familiar ground.

October 23, 2015

Modern Eulogy

Now if you die
the newspaper will proudly display
the worst selfie that
you ever took in your whole life
on its front page,

next to big bold print
and bullshit ads and sports team’s
manufactured importance,
and then there is you…

How sad.

This image is
the only photograph of you
that they could find
on your social media page—facebook fame,
quick, fast, now,
through a Google search of your name.

This is the best they could do
for the article, for the paper—for you,

just by going
on the news of your death
and your name,
to your unique page.

I grab the limp paper now
and wonder,
does the family even know?

I wish I had coffee,
I wish other more realistic
less bias things
made the news…

Hillary Clinton goes to jail,
perhaps? But who is she
to me anyway?

No one…

See, I don’t care…
I am worried about my selfie,
my image, my name:
What they will show when I die
on the front page!

This is what life has come to.
I think it costs about $1.00 …

October 21, 2015

The Night I Lost My Coat

You lost your leather coat

At a bachelor party last weekend.

It wasn’t at the strip club,

Nudes danced wet on poles.

It wasn’t at the forgotten bar,

La Crosse lines them in rows.

It wasn’t inside of the party bus,

The one with open windows,

The one with a cracking radio…

It was lost, elsewhere between—

For reasons of altruistic motives,

To keep your brother warm.

It was lost in ways unknown.

October 16, 2015

Right (T)here

All is well when the lights are on.
I know someone is in.
The office is not empty.
I know something, anything is happening.

The outside world glows a peach aura.
A warm mason jar of coffee is held in my hand.
I note the orange chasing
up over a distant horizon.

We drive in listening to MPR news.
Cold is below trees in crossed arms
and a longing for warmth.
Shaking as it settles to the bone.

The fields are not frosted crystals yet.
How morning is manipulated from lush summer
to autumn colors to bleak black in white.
In months this will seem a dream.

The end is near and those involved understand.
Nuclear power chimneys back the brick façade.
This entire campus is a tragic set.
With impromptu scenes between.

Maples come nude welcoming along the walk.
I step through a waiting room maze.
My key goes in at the elevator’s threshold,
head bumps to the door.

Inside rows of lights cast down
to shine a mute tile floor;
Here was wood and leather,
keyboards and desktop screens.

And then I heard what was for me.
Comfort in words: it will come…
Just give it time.
As everything else, patience and fate.

Ah, the answer is there, as usual.
It’s right in front of me.
And the lights were on.
They were waiting inside the same.