Posts tagged ‘Climate’

September 10, 2017

poets, spiders, and sponsors

i researched the spider
that i murdered on the floor with a shoe
and thought about climatology
and biology and how
one is perhaps theology and
the other is perhaps fluid language opined, and/or not.
something like an afterthought, after thought.
sametime i made sure my coffee tank was on full.
and aghast and in pitted anguish
someone forgot to turn on the den fan,
i need this air to move around a bit
save for stuck being in stagnation.
only spiders and silverfish live in the basement, the circle of life.
i think this, then i have no worries for my feet.
a million to one i watch an NFL game today
and wonder about the forced labels
and watch as he turns the can and
bottle to showcase for the cameras
their pricey established names, wow, how wow…
also, i woke from a dream about
winning the state lottery, $50,000–
what a nightmare, to welcome the new day broke.
here shaping language in other countries for monies,
still can’t speak it right right here, in a basement.
again, i researched that spider, crumpled, dead, still,
something between brown recluse
and another spider more innocent
the one that no one cares about,
that kills the just-as-offensive silverfish scum.

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January 10, 2016

Last Night Allegory (Smoke Rising Over The Hennepin Avenue Bridge)

One time
bold people
walked
cold paths

under
hollow skies.

Last night
was nice,

even
with
the weather.

March 11, 2015

A March of Yoga Pants in the Sun

A few brittle flakes of flesh fall to
the standard grey University desk in front of me.

Evidence of one memorable bench-sit sunning had brought me gifts today,
parts of me and more.

They came in gaggles of yoga pants, sparkling wet sidewalk pools—dripping,
and the wafted smell of thawing topsoil.

These odors damp and dank, some familiar and sweet, natürlich;
smells a boy can never forget.

Sharing words of Baudelaire and Schadenfreude,
Chaucer and April—but, hypocrite reader, you are not guilty,

it is I with the pen and the paper and the view and the thought in mind—
These other student-creatures saunter forward naked, empty, out of

static blasé bundles of winter climes, too Springtime is due, unawares.
I smile at the idea of my taut semi-reddened flesh, dried and cooked

in yesterday’s ultraviolet rays—as my significant other warns of skin cancer,
but this is my proud ignorant trophy to own.

I can only thin-lipped big-tooth express, and fiddle with dead skin cells
as they rest on my desk in cross-shadows and heated-light.

November 24, 2014

Coffee Croissant and Cigarette

I’ll take a coffee croissant and cigarette-
To pull me out of this cold,
To help me forget.

I’ll take a coffee croissant and cigarette-
Deep chills in the wind,
Heavy bundled at best.

I’ll take a coffee croissant and cigarette-
Miracles do happen,
However snow comes ubiquitous, wet.

I’ll take a coffee croissant and cigarette-
People have needs,
When hands are full satisfaction is met.

I’ll take all of the above, because if I look below I see: Ice. Salt. and Snow.

September 21, 2014

Seasonal Realism

Strong Autumn winds blow in;
Through trees, on a whim- these limbs,
Birds,
and shadows made of them.

Exhausted year, once again…

Sincere,
Biers and tears,
Free and easy,
Mind’s been cleared.

Coming up wasted and frustrated-
Elliot Smith came up roses,
Empty handed impatience,
Changing mindset with practiced poses.

Some of the best luck of all time,
Some of the unluckiest best times,
Some logic takes heavy loads off minds.
Some laziness, what!? -The awful crime.

Round corners above pavement,
On a bike,
Life is dangerous,
Backpack filled with book pages,

I promise…

Summer’s gone recently, but not for long,
This weather; indifferent, right, or wrong.

The Midwest is at least unique in that it is unpredictable in clime.
And I imagine Simon and Garfunkel will enjoy their vodka and lime.

May 21, 2014

Morels

Porous spores
Creatures of the ground

Soft supple fresh flesh—
As dead leaves they are brown

Under canopy and fodder young stems prosper
A sedentary proper, the dirt remains unbothered

Fleeting as the fast night came
Came they did, with the damp Spring rain.