Posts tagged ‘climate change’

April 8, 2018

we all know nothing except for that

dusted shades cut the coming light like warm butter,
at the inside hard wooden floor
shadows of imagined exotic and warm,
where rental plants went fastly and
turned terminal in our Saturday’s hue,
in the camera slant, above the golden lamp…
did that rhyme enough for you?
i think i am worried about space debris.
i feel it again, undiscern…
and question everything as everything should be, like:
where are the lunar rovers on earth’s cameras, now?
where are the gods in tragedies, how could they allow?
where are the other sides being told under microscopes amid ads?
deep reflection then a Snapchat to friends
and family who i wish were closer in outer space
and inside with me because of the cold
outside, that is here in April…
what do we call it again… what do we say today… ?
i think they changed it from global warming
to climate change yesterday in below average temps, to
work with our subjective weather model,
so the Narrative can stay the same when it bleeps on the network.
by the negative assertions and constant commercials…
that is why i love modern literary criticism
and the scientific method.
i know nothing, as we all do and i know that.
but you might need this pill to smile.
perhaps something is wrong with you and you can’t tell yet.

Advertisements
January 6, 2018

after climate change

i will tell you about the cold with frozen fingers,
draw you some greasy shapes on glass so you can’t miss.
i will tell you about the heat when the bill’s delivered,
asking you when the climate change is about to begin.

January 15, 2014

Something we won’t see, or Late Winter Warmth

Something we won’t see, or Late Winter Warmth,

 

A Winter Libretto:

 

A reverse-coned icicle hangs dripping

Stalactites warm on the outside; frozen solid within.

 

Bringing a liquid heartbeat sound below-

 

Drip, beat, drip

Drip, beat, drip

 

Until gravity plucks this fragile form

Fleeting-

 

Spinning-

 

Crashing- it to the red brick ground.

 

Broken to bits, transparent

Pieces scattered about

No shape of the passing account.

 

Clear chemical solid cubes now.

 

Lying there broken

 

With these, no resemblance he could find to the picture in his mind

He looked to the sky to spy another sharp point growing in time.

January 8, 2014

Polar Vortex Complex

Deep down in my bones I could feel the bitter cold

Unlike the weather I tried to remain positive

I could feel I wasn’t alone on this ill-tempered day.

 

The other commuters were as bold

Walking alone proved treacherous

I noticed this as I made my way.

 

Fixed we stood.

 

None took bare fingers to examine smart phones

So pained by the wind one could hear its distant moan

This had turned into a city full of steam and smoke and coats.

 

KVJ says, “So it goes.”  “So it goes.”  “So it goes…”

 

Warm thoughts what we could

Long minutes existed in time unknown

This as we waited in a bus shelter along the road on this dangerously weathered spinning stone.

 

… Here’s the 3B coming, right?

 

I can’t see, lenses create ice

Early day twilight wearing these damned sights

All eyes and no view, please help me make it through.

 

It must be dark as night on this frigid January morning

It was forecasted with forewarning

They said, ‘Stay inside.’ -like run and hide.

 

We have the Polar Vortex Complex

This is not Global Warming*.

 

This is a place where all inside have lost their minds because of ‘things’ being boring.

 

Thoughts, then I look on

Blurred Metro Transit lights?

 

Praying it’s not gone.

 

I am not even halfway there yet

A walk I fast regret.

 

Lungs feel tight, I start at fright.

 

Walking, my vision fogged and I forgot the art of breathing

Ice crystals formed on my lashes not for the better of seeing.

 

-Seething, I’d not like to die like this, on a near vacant campus

I begged, pleaded, and asked the UMPD for a small ride, I did not gain advantage.

 

Nothing happened.

 

Five minutes later my temperature changed

The outside temperature stayed the same.  (Below Something-nearing -50)

 

I thought, has my nose frozen yet, has carbon-monoxide damaged my brain?

Blackened and blotched flesh-stained.

 

All was but rearranged, all my ideas of sustain

All my big plans were being choked at the throat

I try manage at maintain.

 

Things we think about in a bundle

In this frost-bit jungle, the coldest city I have come to know.

 

Minneapolis,

Little cold apple, come as they go

Most, (at least), some will stay home.

 

Temperature of this place we live in

All things we’ve been given.

 

I must have blindly run off somewhere

Panic gulp puffs of smoke catching air as I passed

Mad dash hypothermic maniac, today I am back intact.

 

 

*Hyperbole

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
February 6, 2013

Big-Small City Blues (Minneapolis Frigid)

You can find us foraging on the harshest of days.

To a Jet-Setter’s dismay, we amaze.

 

:  Daily occurrence

 

Layered like onion with attire and attitude.

Acting rude to those cordial tourists who seem to just pass through.

 

Seeking truth, priority of enormous proportions, propensity.

 

You can find us biking in any weather; seen worse, seen better.

Times like today, think about bringing an extra sweater.

 

(Some sit and lay.)

 

Maybe a shovel if your neighbor’s in trouble.

Finding a sidewalk with a walkable pathway, can be a puzzle.

Thinking outside of the bubble; we are not all shut-ins.

 

The hardiest travel gear gets soaking wet, dried, and molded.

The 18 will honk if you miss the starting gun on a green light, Metro Transit states symbolically: you’ve been scolded.

Such plight!

 

I remember a few months back, 120 degree heat index seemed funny.

Right?

I remember a few days back, negative 30 and sunny.

Right?

 

Seen sight; the visibility is impossible tonight.

I might be late.

You might feel the wind-chill’s bite.

 

I can’t see myself on my bike, can you?

Sit in and look at words again.

 

Refreshed by a novel movie and touching flesh, nostalgia we all forget.

Under all that puff.

 

Happenings; futures, pasts, present, time we’ve spent dwelling in resentment on the climate.

This doesn’t happen outside.

 

Look at the skies; there is always something to complain about.

 

Trapped inside; a cupboard small-life-style-apartment-renting-type-typical logic.

In the sun we used to frolic.

 

Snow builds up at the door, but when it snows the temperatures soar, or at least we think so.

A cool breeze pushes at the window.

 

Humming and buzzing of snowplows and traffic wake me from my slumber.

Trapped under multiple layers of blankets and a duvet cover.

 

In between Christmas and Valentine’s Day I am at a constant funeral:

The air is noticeably staler on the interior, seeing those more closely in tight quarters.  Emotions become more pronounced.  All judgement is irrelevant.  The reality of the situation becomes clear; one of us has to disappear in the whiteout, the others must stay.  Yet, eyes remain sunken as longer become the sun-rays.  

Counting days; contorted, frayed, frazzled, and astray.

 

We traverse the busiest roads; dangerous travel to make minimal loot.

Tie the boot.

Spoon the soup.

 

Look out on to the street-slop on your feet.

 

Something’s amiss, a chain slip, a tire flat, shoot!

Gloveless hands on handle bars, the thought seems aloof.

Vitamin C for juice.

 

Sit rigid in your chair-1,000 yard stare.

 

What’s in it, what’s given?

Proof that we enjoy the region.  Proof that we enjoy the seasons.

Gaining insight from book shelves; persistent, driven, emboldening self.

 

Commonplace; we all complain, but when we do naught but talk of change we remain the same.

The same.

The same.

 

Disgruntled and contented; seeming like an oxymoron.

Suggestions simply get a passive aggressive response, and move on, stay where you belong.

Or moan and move on.

Moan and move on.

 

No!

No, not me.

And no other soul in this big-small city.

 

We stay for another day, Minneapolis is full of play and easy ways, except for today…

July 15, 2012

Her Name is Taken (part 1)

Her Name is Taken

 

Hard times are had when trying to not think of her.

Usually reading about the past, objectively.

Although that is subjective.

 

Imagination working overtime for peanuts.

 

Thoughts twist, bend, and crawl-toward me.

Hands outstretched.

Buzzing, like high, like climbing up the wall.

 

Like goodbye and don’t call.

Like Goodbye, don’t call.

 

Please.

 

Ring, ring, ring.

 

If looks could kill, the world would end at her feet.

If wits could kill, she should try to keep her mouth shut as to save us all.

 

She walks, talks, and knows everything.

 

A little girl looking for purity and compassion.

A boy in the same boat.

Imagining life-

Where only good things happen, and most decent things stay afloat.

 

Falling into view, though, my eyes frequently gaze to stall.

Everywhere, and all

Everywhere, and all.

Seeing everything and all.

 

Most hardly notice.

 

Blink, and the picture is lost…

 

Gone like the sun after dusk.

 

Like the wind.

 

So close to capturing a mythological being, but the wrought was for naught.

She’s a shapeshifter and compulsive drifter.

 

And she didn’t come with any of the special features neither.

 

Tug of war between teacher and believer.

Words and silence.

 

Diligent preacher lying for leisure.

Pupils to closed eyelids.

 

But the problem is meager.

Just meager.

 

***

 

Um, yeah…

What were we talking about again?