April 15, 2017
why not leave at 6:30 pm
or 6:38, or whenever time,
no time no matter no worry,
cant think for not?
we go in wetting droplets,
Gods globulars hung at our mirrors
sluiced in the whatnot, and everyday.
Lexington Parkway traffic,
homeless with signs, traffic,
dampness seeps in the traffic,
94 traffic to 52 south.
we were full to the brim; kitchen sink.
sometimes i feel bad for them.
sometimes i feel bad for me.
more of want of wont of need, both agreed.
sometimes everything is always run on monies
so i work harder on Mondays come and see me.
Antony and the Johnsons loudly
and a Fistful of Love… you have never heard of.
the things we dont know are more poignant.
cut across a freeway, no freedom
on our way along the way to see some,
temped by wiperblade and dead deer viscera–
something scattered last week and foul
something old and brown and our future.
losing light like the night.
more south, St Charles, Rochester,
more south, Preston, Rushford, Houston,
into the deep croaking valley green
spawned ever by these roiling storms
kind that would hard driving make
then here now true.
i always wish to dine in Nodine.
then there on the hillside:
a blazing hot cross that says fuck you in passive aggressive
to the spoiled lot that whined about it from WI
extinguished from their special sensitive gaze.
a train that i didnt see but heard blew on by–
must be a metaphor for something…
look at that rambler, i want it.
we can leave whenever to wherever
but when we make it well know for not.
But when we left didnt matter really.
come to theorize:
perhaps Dale Earnhardt’s death
was the 9/11 of NASCAR…
November 21, 2016
today, Monday, will be
a little more quiet,
a little more
a little more silence,
of the Green Bay Packers
will be walking
in immense sorrow,
moping in their green
and gold regalia.
Today, i probably won’t
hear about the Vikings’
or (maybe) how
we have never won
Because yesterday we won.
But now, that doesn’t
cheeseheads roll tears,
their symbol, that
which attracts mice,
were simply defeated by
Washington, and “the wind”,
i guess any excuse,
i’ll give it to you.
your silence today.
October 23, 2016
mornings like these
leaves come crashing
through the limbs
of stiffening trees
where fat squirrels
bound like jack rabbits
in search of
something to call winter shelter
inside the silhouette paint
of an autumnal tie-dye day
inside, they spin at change
what sound of cut silence
delineated by robins call
a bus, the 67 going by,
and a “V” flown southeast
our house cat mows grass at
my pale naked feet,
on some cool broken sidewalk
merely rented–what to own?
entryway of flowery vine
as stairs coming alive
at this venture of fallen
dead photosynthesis–dry leaf dying
i imagine if it
thought to spark a moment
in the morning mind
of some drifter standing
i imagine it like
it was some actor being told
to “ACTION!” by
some muted invisible god
in the distance biding its time
(fall to the set)
October 16, 2016
this Hercules coffee
& sleepless dreams,
got me shaking the cold off,
happy to be seen.
September 24, 2016
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?
July 3, 2016
Sitting, eyeing, on the green line east
at pull of rubber band force
from automatic closed doors,
this way going fast to St. Paul,
reading pulp & fodder & reviews–
rain taxi on such a fine day, muse,
truth as the second coming, we assume,
alone as this newborn child is,
before our welcome birthing days…
And these bells only go buzz
their purposeful bing accord,
and the hipsters trend all over
Twitter and Facebook storyboards,
and I read “Dessa”: as one name,
I am not too big to make real art,
hard looks and fresh lemon bitter.
I am here between twin cities
futzing with the magazine innards
tonguing sore mouth blisters
trying to find a schedule to go on mr…
Stories of contrast black and white
waiting on bleak blue dinged seats
and this line rolls along green,
in pale hot bright summer sun seen,
malaise in my stomach sits–pits,
Snelling, Hamlin, and Lexington,
sour as such sordid sentiment,
I bike to some new on old hopes
to pay cash for a tin roof owned,
I hope it’s not too far, still sitting,
still watching, waiting, thinking:
Do people really think they are fooling
anyone waiting at the scanner’s
edge to run up on the station
without paying the correct fare?
O, bad actors must have just forgot,
the commuter theatre is free today.
May 23, 2016
while sitting on a blue-striped towel
i hear a local worldview of sorts,
some older lady repeats something
about a virtual tour–the architecture (!),
two millennials smoking cigarettes profess
how they “fucking hate trump”
because truth tells them to do so,
and a wife on her bluetooth in leopard print
shows the entire beach it’s a seller’s market
with her well-trained theatre hands
(if you are looking to buy a house in the city)
in uppity one-sided rhetorical fashion,
i of course do not question their character:
i am at the beach looking for heat,
assessing the chill of lake water
as i am nonplussedy people watching.
my study of the local fare has me thinking
Hidden Beach may have fewer occupants,
and that someone must be mistaken
on the location of Art-A-Whirl or
i might need to find a new place to swim.
March 10, 2016
i would like to give thanks
to the group of artists &
poets for finding myself,
excluding me in what
would be a city musing
hell, the fording grounds
where we share likeness,
but really we don’t, really.
i found better in labored
shit, humored in the mix,
constantly waking to do
something that I didn’t
truly enjoy, living the fear
of hard judgement betwixt
going-ons and so-so works.
yeah, i found it all where
you weren’t, it was good
to not see you there, it
was good to see some actual.
February 17, 2016
a small video
so i start
feels a little
& a landlord
it all down,