Archive for ‘Minneapolis’

September 24, 2016

rationale

when does the rationale come back?
this morning a skein flew easterly
as a stinky cat ate wet grass in cool air.
cooking shows and mall shootings.
there is still a lone shooter at large…
but not here, that was in Washington.
i probably won’t go shopping today anyway.
anyway cars moved past overgrown front lawns,
a radio played classically forgetful songs,
and seven:eleven was my wake up time.
nothing much for a saturday stay,
the police scanner glows on its stand.
i’ll eat leftovers of last night: pizza.
but i won’t talk on yesterday’s toils much.
rationale, certain hormones change minds
at times, they make me want to buy.
i’d go to Amsterdam–the pub, and drink
and talk of Irish counties and transport,
the weather and such in the back of a truck
what luck? crammed, called ignorant for
having viewpoints different, but does
that make you what they loudly say?  Different.
(i put much thought in putting in much thought.)
probably not. probably doesn’t matter.
probably rationale skewed by language used,
delete the tweet, ah, but O’ the screenshots:
that is the way the local government works,
tho you Canot do that, or can you? Perhaps? IDK.
leaders, that term can be used very loosely;
leaders are people too, they come with faults.
pondered doxing most of the afternoon, true.
bribes, lines, demands, and political chides.
not much for the actual people proper.
a sort of smoke screen, photo cropper.
not too much to for me though…
Again, the birds and the cat and the neighbor.
i love everyone and their ideas, how could you not?
and when does the rationale come back?
people must have lost it calling other’s flaws
not factoring in their own, tho, not alone.
rationale has been lost for the masses.
but what is that? and who is going to interpret it as so?

September 20, 2016

Westgate

Dear person who wants to die at the Westgate train station, I’m sure the police officer doesn’t care if you like to hang your legs over the station by the tracks in the cool breeze near rush hour traffic, astride power lines and atmospheric pressure waves of interference. But you would be a hell of a something to clean up, so why don’t you give the fine transportation people of this lovely city a break and get back beyond the yellow line. I guess we are all trying to go somewhere, and not ruin an other’s day. No one is special, except maybe you.

August 31, 2016

a storm’s protest

where thunder bolted
honey combs

crawled across our
northern region

pulling trees & dust

making dead-man’s
steeples

along its straight way

low-pressure seiche

antiquated scripture

people jumped on fords
while blue and jet matters

a breath of fresh air
no one can breathe

seiche and fetch
fo’c’sle tides

the edmund fitzgerald

a storm went
a storm stayed

a storm cried
more, more, more

and the weather didn’t think
this is all it could do

it just did what
it had to, it happened.

August 16, 2016

what i know.

what i know
about life
is that people
only want
change if
they create it
themselves;
likewise
with poetry,
people only want
words, art, ideas,
-poetry
if they create
it themselves.
i would
cite the editors,
the talking heads,
the publications,
the reviewers,
and their
best of friends
in foggy dawn
on a
hot summer’s day,
i would
but i didn’t
create them.
and that is why they
read
only the best.
ssshhhhhhhhhh…

August 14, 2016

middle finger

“Who ain’t a slave? Tell me that. Well, then, however the old sea-captains may order me about—however they may thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way— either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should rub each other’s shoulder-blades, and be content.”

― Herman Melville, Moby-Dick

there are some times
i want to use
my middle
finger so bad.

i see it coming,
some idiot,
annoyance, stooge–
realize
that everyone
is watching, waiting,

tighten up,
and hesitate
my finger into
a balled fist,

put it away
for better judgement
and self-
sustainability,

and think
this is what people
must feel like
when treated unfair,

i can’t do
what i want…

certainly,
only because i have
been told i never
feel like that,
or have felt it ever,
not possible.

tho, every-
thing is.

still, my middle
finger is upset,
turned in,
depleted of its work,
unwelcome
and put down,

in our new
america, spectacle-laced
obsession, critique
readied, voluntarily,
unwarranted
society.

(surely assume:
white, well,
and un-wanting;
but caste that observation
not unto others
of course.)

tho, putting
my finger away perhaps
means tacitly to: fuck off,
tho, we feel
that this gesture
is always unacceptable,
yet i think.

(holds up middle finger while smiling)

July 29, 2016

advice for students from a post-graduate (survey answer)

Take all chances.
Study abroad.
Do things that others tell you not to do.
Do what you think is right.
Try everything.
Prepare yourself for a career you enjoy from experience.
Labels and titles do not matter.
Always network.
Always be present and visible.
Be different.
Believe in yourself, really.
Have a passion for what you are interested in.
Always, always be early.
And think positive.

July 26, 2016

dreams grow underground

one time, i had a dream
about thought, and then
i forgot. it was about
how everyone made up
excuses to why they were
wronged, and how i got
stuck in a tunnel under
the city; it was full of
graffiti, and smelled of
fish, and i floated on a
boat out into whatever
way the river carried me
while others watched their
screens so closely to
not miss me in the boat
just floating on by in
whatever wronged manner
i had been exposed to:
something about what i
looked like and attitude.
something about dad & god.
then i woke to beepings.
then i woke up to glare.

July 20, 2016

mn heat

oppressive mn heat
a starch blanket
save for weighted winds
strip me hot naked

some dry desert nigh
inside for a time
sun blinding eyes
higher in the skies

and what ac wets me
nothing for going out
lights waver glowing
powering at a rout

still,

wager for winter
wager for reprieve
betting on instinct
hoping it to leave

and at least not death valley,
dumpsters swelter in the alleys.

July 16, 2016

turn at whole foods muse

a saturday morning commute,
when i see high performance
dick measurements
dancing across deep potholes
in our weekend downtown,
i realize that maybe my feet
say more on a quick walk
in broken-open slip-ons
than my hands do on virgin leather,
and that’s was my judgement,
and at a cracked bus stop
some authentic wait lonesome
for jesus christ and good luck
surrounded by windows mirrored,
exhaustion and new day;
who wears the pants and such anyway?
i think all this betwixt coffee sips
driving along the way,
i take it in over “ordinary world”
and think of Scorsese death
while our wet ball spins
(do i need a car wash to appeal?)
and his Porsche turns before me;
the shine blinds, maybe size small.

July 12, 2016

definition

We no longer need reason
To say things are wrong
We no longer need action
To define our meaning