Take all chances.
Do things that others tell you not to do.
Do what you think is right.
Prepare yourself for a career you enjoy from experience.
Labels and titles do not matter.
Always be present and visible.
Believe in yourself, really.
Have a passion for what you are interested in.
Always, always be early.
And think positive.
Take all chances.
in front of me.
I find myself
as a vehicle,
I’ve seen doors locked for all time,
purpose in moments changed,
and boxes closed indefinitely
with familiar occupants inside.
Yet, still I lift my head in ice pellets
coming down on the campus mall,
and still my view is fixed straight-
forward when allowed, and with
this aside, and taking on alternatives.
I exist in a one bedroom apartment
in Southeast, brushing teeth, put-
ting my eyeballs in to see just this.
wondering as an adult
of money of property
of pomp of present
why we try so hard
wasting our time
in-doors at desks
to be put into
a box within the earth
as if we hardly noticed
air and how it was sweet
how eyes hurt at the sun
if only to be there
and take it rather
than away and not,
to be what a part you were
the kettle bubbles
the radio barks
the morning begins
where to go?
a waxen yellow
the cutting tops of
as we watched from
an open window
across a slipping river
in red leather
chairs and candle
of some brick structure.
it was smooth
as Tullamore Dew
and matured grapes
in crystal glasses,
and silk stalks outside
in Oktober wind,
and crushed leaves
under pedestrian feet,
and third avenue bridge
loomed the same.
the moon died
at Aster, it was just
it was coming anew,
meeting familiar horizons
on a different day.
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.