Posts tagged ‘cold’

November 1, 2017

… as the snow flies

i am good right here…
entranced by November snows
in gray hues, just outside,
changing my mind’s moments
like daylight savings.
each flake fat,
each ascent confused,
to wetted ground’s pools below.
good right here, right now–I. I…
waiting, watching through a film of plastic
and time and clime and ah… OK.
spastic motions, prison of chairs.
legs get stiff, what are feet for, again?
biding my time patient, that snow out there.
it’s coming down liberated and seasoned.
Reflecting somewhat jealous.
at some point i have to leave.

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January 3, 2017

free as i freeze (habit and time)

wake up to routine,
OK Google, play morning jazz.
watch people kiss at the
drop off spot.
it’s cold, there is ice–messages, go outside…
tie shoes and salt the walk.
change diapees of all sorts.
my son makes more art
than the lot in the books
than the lot on the poster
than the lot at the press
than me, and yes, i wrote that
and it’s exclusive to your publication
and i won’t send it
to anyone else, i promise.
no more surprises.
she asks me why i don’t wear
a jacket in 9 degree weather
to fill up the gas tank
so the fuel line doesn’t freeze overnight,
i don’t want to be restricted.
i want to not be cramped.
i just want to make ends meet
even if they have no interest
in meeting and becoming friends
and they just try to avoid
that moment, which i have set out so boldly
to make a reality, on my account.
wake up to routine,
OK Google, bring me a beer.
and deconstruct structure–
wood, screws, metal, shelves, etc.
they tell me i look nice in a blazer.
into packs cramped.
trying to be more free as i freeze
if you would just let me,
it only takes habit and a moment.

December 11, 2016

mission control, i got a cold.

ah… mission control,
my pink floyd head
can’t handle the
layered, fluffy driven
snow. i thought
about that easy idea
for a moment and
shoveled it past fast;
a dog’s muted bark echoes;
beyond cut crystals
that adorn clear glass.
what a cold day to be
spreading out on this
red yoga mat, sooo ready
to take a shit,
ready to sip my coffee
with some honey in it,
in a tall white mug.
sort-of, kind-of like me
in the right light.
ah… mission control,
where is john glenn,
where is our politics
as usual, where is
my old cold medicine?
got to watch meet
the press, got to…
tell me what i should do.

December 8, 2016

bundle up

ere the cold wind
hardened person debacle,
post-repast,
i become less like
those who represent me
and more like myself,
still running from its presence.
we are found, as errant snow
in misplaced cracks
along the street–
never should have been there.
swirling excitedly
at the bus stop proper
under pink and sable skies,
this industry: dying trees, real waits,
away from it all,
lights out in the house,
purely darkened for late payments.
a book stands in my side pocket,
slick along the turns,
a clear door opens, “Hello, sir.”
and then the same door closes again
to shield me from it.
ere the cold wind, just as
it touches me whole.

December 6, 2016

i need a snow-blower

holy fuckin’ shit.
there is no safe way to shovel snow,
there is no way to save your back.
you are feeling it in bed,
and when you stand up,
and when you slip slightly on early ice
making your way to the bus.
you know now there is no safe way to shovel the snow.
even with a bag of salt,
even with a new metal blade,
there is still ice and hard piles– no way.
been expressed as heart attack snow, no joke too.
this stuff is really real,
and it’s just the beginning of a season;
one star in a universe of stars;
virgin weather for old minds,
more to come, more on the horizon.
each snowflake is another chance to die,
now that is something special.
each pull of the shovel,
bend of the back, heave of the chest,
that’s another instance where it could be over.

February 13, 2016

Selective Modern Movements

Rather
than
relate
we
separate.

Rather
Than
inspire
we
hate.

Walking
down
a
street
in Northeast

a
man
said,
“…It’s
Too
Cold
to stand!”

He
uttered
this
and
ran
in front of me.

I
wondered
what
about
belief.

I
wondered
how
cold
it
had
to
be

to
run
from
a
belief

I
stand
so
closely
with.

Then
I
wondered
about
silly
fantastical
movements

right
and wrong
and
objective
truths.

No shit.

January 11, 2016

9 below

9 below
and nothing
really
matters.

A dusting
of snow,
but what’s
that?

The forecast
doesn’t
mention the
wind’s biting,

the aching
bones,

or heavy layers
of clothes:

hat, gloves,
scarves,
long underwear,
and coat.

We Minnesotans,
we know.

9 below
is what
they call it,

but it’s something
else, something
more imposing;

it’s cold life,
like that,

nothing more than negative.

And I prefer zero,
calm and neutral.

And I prefer anything
but minus digits.

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.

September 23, 2015

whether weather

maybe rain
maybe sun,
maybe IDK
another day

September 21, 2015

september sleep

hard sleep in my eyes
queues the end credits

waking to an apartment
gathering dusted clutter

days seem growing longer
as light slips slow away

the cold goes to my bones
crawling in, just deeper