Archive for ‘man’

November 18, 2017

ghosts cannot kill

life after life
life after this coffee is gone, slipped out of its cup
computer screens bleeping, drama queens screaming
after a walk in the woods, after silence
thoughts of my father
pop up like mushrooms in spring,
me as a father now especially
as that one spire, strident, fixture in my life
once was, as afraid of the dark
as bumps in the night, he stands there
dead eyes, calming, voided, silhouette doorway
telling me the same thing he told me to make me feel safe:
a ghost has never killed anyone in the history of time,
no one has died from seeing a ghost,
and if i were going to die i would have done it by now
he told me that without exaggeration
i wonder are they real
or are they just gone when they are

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October 18, 2017

you go for it too, the end

our supposed sapience
this rabbit hole venture
grandeur, alluredly postured,
vested interest paying,
found wholly bound,
tied tight in pragmatic gestures,
molded, wired twill, just there. and not.
and the poses for those trite tripe elations
on adolescent medias ubiquitous,
for social aspirations, affirmation,
fleeting, vanishing in yesterday’s yesterday.
once a thought gone for
a thousand other good thoughts gone,
nothing to where i stand nowly.
these buildings were here, they saw too.
that bridge was here on Washington Ave.
this coffee hot was not.
Nor your laugh sharp, piercing…
your ideas are great, just imagine.
your politics are not his or hers or the self-appointed’s.
something like that.
something like this.
like the sheer wind cutting under blue hue.
stained words on paper.
hard text on a page.
a fortnight’s digested and expelled intentions.
will fill a box nicely one day.
morgues aren’t like in the television shows.
you will see it soon too.
then you won’t, verily.
and i just thought i would
tell you about it in this type.
because some day i can’t.

December 12, 2016

spring break in canada

one time, jess and i drove to canada
in a small chevy truck. we stayed along
lake superior and its blowing winds. thought
cedar greens would snap. got to tofte at

about 8:35pm, couldn’t see the site.
a ranger called that morning told me they plowed it.
slept on hard rock ground, no foam mattress.
woke up found we were at the shoreline,

read a death in venice. made coffee,
warmed fingers, walked in snow. thought
of my dad and how it was 70 in the cities.
we drove north, had pizza at sven and ole’s;

i had a beer, got in the truck; then crossed
the border past an endless sea of pine, rocks,
and blue water mass. got stopped, wouldn’t
let us through. stayed at an airnb…

won loonies at some casino, tipped very well.
everyone asked us why we traveled north for spring break.
drank bulleit rye in a sauna and turned into a jerk.
got lost. got deals at target. watched

forensic files, ate pancakes, and we became
international travelers; drove to another country.
just like that, for a thought. and i don’t
know, thought i would recount that situation.

it was good. crossing borders, it was nice
seeing things outside of an america lens.

February 23, 2016

I don’t usually take the bus home, but when I do…

Dim lights fading
as dim feeling,
somewhere,
I am Northeast,
viewing dark
clothed bus seats.
Somewhere wet,
floors and smells.
Hello book,
hello patience,
hello fading sunrays,
hello girl on a bike,
now, inside I wait.
Now, you go,
as I do likewise too.
Hello to hear
a sharp beep
in a moving bus
ringing through.
To get groceries,
to give no fucks,
in spoiled dusk.
How dim it is—it was,
Hanging like this:
And the veiled gone sun
as though I am too,
not here but,
still purgatory…
still full of layered blues,
and hollowed cold,
and late afternoon mist.
Going home, to
just check off lists,
going home I sit.

January 5, 2016

Mapping Life (Broken Case)

Broken case, & we ask for a fix.

Set life, & we want this

framework society whole,

for we stay. I imagine the world

as a walk through a snow-covered dale.

(Alone, yet we are acutely surrounded.)

Taking animals, breath, & fodder

we imprint & claim. Where factions

of cogs, similarly, work thru the day,

toiling in a city’s heart for pay, and

edged on the fray. Life as an object,

an eye—seeing, as those

who place the charts remain.

We follow, set the calendar’s pace;

boxes crossed out, and the way we

plan our inevitable forays,

this, as the others, all the same.

Our mapping life, all right, the sight…

December 4, 2015

we love

we love between
the facial hair stabbings
and stolen cane plants.

we love between
the outside world separatists
yelling “unity”

and the inside agitator’s ignorance.
we love between
a wide geography traveled distance

and unremarkable ones we are shut in.
we love between
dry hands and stained duvets,

purity years ago, and the
light of a Christian morning
staring back at you from a pulpit.

we love like that,
no between, unequivocally–alive:
kiss, trust, and a made breakfast.

we love.

September 30, 2015

Natural Solitude

on an island of my own
staring straight into the sun
no fears are accounted for
with this nature i am one