Posts tagged ‘Deutschland’

May 14, 2015

Have Your Day

The day you have
is of your design.

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April 12, 2015

Experience the Movement: during AWP 2015

In a tight vanilla pale room
with a tangerine sunset view,
where high association
shared big words
and accomplishments tacitly,
wink to a nod,
rubbing elbows,
touching pinked-white hands—shaking,
close, related, akin,
with more than five dollar’s worth of language present, presented,
of which few perhaps did understand,
it didn’t matter though,
behind modern dark faux wooden frames, Lennon round,
piercing eyes darted—knowing names, big thanks,
as bodies in ironed button up shirts,
suit jackets dusted,
leather shoes shined,
and neutral colored slacks creased,
hair done stiff, fine—slicked back shine,
reading aloud
lines and verses and words;
poems unfamiliar,
as those within oohed and aahed,
at each vocal cord’s articulation,
as attendees and audience members
smiled, drank, laughed, explained, translated, and clapped.
A brave man said with confidence to the glaring crowd: this was the movement,
we were it.
I guess maybe I couldn’t relate;
I felt more like a dried stalk of corn in a Midwestern summertime field,
some monocultures are unescapable.

March 13, 2015

Prelude to Spring Break 2015

As early March had come in biting and the best were kept inside,
a span of two weeks had passed slowly and sleep had become elusive.

Professors watched second hands tick and gave out faux tests;
these symbolic life quizzes—it’s who makes it who matters.

Desks became confines as concentration went out open windows,
to welcome hands of mild weathered-breeze and new-season sun.

People—tired students, red-eyed lecturers, they didn’t exist;
regular situations became stimuli for a stagnant comatose: why?

No answers formed, except that three days later a person could be a week away,
anywhere—abroad, nothing to do, only to read titles and books which please.

Yet we all sat watching that clock, it moved slower despite us;
now, it would have to stay indoors and assess classrooms of empty chairs.

Scholars and administration would hopefully be in Spring air, taking it in,
with a cold beer in hand and tender sunrays on their back;

minds would exist as empty—blank slates, to pen a tale—an experience,
with no thoughts of what was left sitting behind, with not a hint of rigor.

August 25, 2014

Bad Sunburn

Salt
Sweat
Sunburn
These seasons…

Huffing and puffing
Ride to work

Glowing ball
in the sky
beating down,
Breaking
the dew point record;

Yesterday,
High-rise
thick clouds,
Lightening show
and shadows

Values darkened and stiff,
These puffy entities-

Radio in earbuds, bag stuck to back, stinging, burning, sloughed off skin, in movements, in moments.
Now the day begins.

August 12, 2014

Man Man at Triple Rock

Observant trend scene,
Heavy tattoo engrained,
Faux-tough and minor mean,
Façade, true, is claimed.

Street: Riverside, easy ride:
Perspective existing local,
Patched bags for small fries;
Real hipsters for yokels.

Through Cultures and Vultures,
Much Music and Trash-
Relative status shown vouchers,
Can’t see; bright lights we lack.

Stand in short lines outside.
Killing self with thin cigarettes;
Realize these lies through eyes,
One puff at a time, we forget-

Dive into undulating pool of people
Scuffed tennis shoes tied loose,
Sweat smell we breathe through-
Sip expensive cheap rail booze.

Catch the Route 2 Bus to be,
This night-life part of the city.
***
Motto: seen you there before, but never met, as in meet.
Standing dirty wet floor below feet until it’s time to leave.

July 31, 2014

Taxing Life

Life Taxing:
we sit behind walls to pay for sitting behind walls.

Wheels spin, no gas on deck,
armies fight wars waged for black gold;
these things are related.

Glass punctures and creates an escape,
you sit roadside with a flat-tire and deflated ego.

An IED blows off a soldier’s leg,
an obese man eats a sandwich and drinks a diet coke,
a beautiful young model hates her reflection; finding flaws;
a CEO makes money.

And no one knew the half.

Birds fly,
rivers flow,
a book weighs down a hand,
words play heavy on the head.

Cottonwood seeds float on thick air,
tombstones bask in the sun.
So far away no voice could reach;
even so not of native tongues.

Days we have lost and the one that just began,
my toast is burnt,
furniture sits un-rearranged.
Affects leave me unchanged;
for certain of, same, -oh distaste.

Life goes on
a cat meows
a clock ticks
the heat moves in and settles down
Fall is here.

Only this time it’s without you.
I wish I could tell you about that.

April 22, 2014

Worn Soles (How to tell a Major)

Shoes lined the step
No faces to connect
Worn Chuck’s symbolize fun
Mindset symbolized by dress

Who owns them in person?
Who unties them at rest?
Who wears them out walking?
Who sits them snug under desk?

A mile in shoes and you’ll know any old fool
One’s on life’s route just running through
Jumping foils and flows constant as they go
Rubber soles smoothed stories traveled true

The ebb and flow goes under toe
The times that move ever slow
We walk on fast, and move on past
Our shoes just follow below.

One can always tell a shoe by the wearer
One can tell a major by Chuck Taylor’s (English).

April 14, 2014

wie zum sterben

Monologue of Lovers;
One contends never to exist, as is necessity of endearing Conversationalists.
Words castes, molds, and shows what’s to discover of each other.

Touch of the Shut-in,
Cold frost thoughts mingled, with those of a summer’s mist.
Running through to grounds around, hark to those akin.

Designed to hold Time,
A clock’s arms link-locked tight tense to tick.
Shoe gazers watch cracks to find prized dimes in the mix.

Disintegrating at pure elegance,
She dances early day just to pull on a dress and necklace.
Proper smile outlined deep red to impress, enacting her relevance.

Lack of audacious Antidote,
A self-wound wrapped bound left to forget.
Layers that bond only to be pulled in two; torn, and then reset.

Absolutist human likely assumed close to the rest;
Comprised of simple puzzles, a simple life -of to think and act- while we stand in ‘present-tense’.

-Until our bell’s been rung for eternal rest.

And at that day,

In so many ways

Others will speak with passionate pride and distraught sentiment.

But we won’t.

 

***

The voice decays into oblivion with the body.  

April 10, 2014

The Sense of Morgen

Morning language of foreign affairs
Out the door, across the lawn
A man lip-syncs silent frustrations
Coming light exposes woken dawn

From afar becoming freshly shaven
Supple smooth shining firm at distant sight
Exposed shoulders soft warm- they smolder
Bending and twisting with purposeful might

Flattened fur amongst fallen fodder
Stepping past on sprung gait fore longed
Hesitate to walk, they jump at a ponder
A flock of Birds sing their sweetly song

Traverse moving, coming forth
Up the stairs straight along the rail
I come passing through the door
Winds up blowing leaves as a sail

Dimmed light inside; night, upon the daily rags
I grab one staggering past as a lady bends
Hands pull and from the rack this pulp drags
Front cover to see what this issue lends:

Of riots it talks, never had that haughty celebration
Of pay it talks, we aim to change the penurious situation
Of development it talks, can we mount this station for payment?
Of research it talks, for progress searching for inspiration

Take a seat and read, the day’s been made
Take some time to think of all these claims.

***
This rests in between reality and not.

March 26, 2014

Ms. Price

The Matriarch of Thought
Standing once, again, at the front, near porous mind’s space
Stay at the cusp of those taught tangled tangibles.
Yet now I am
Her words, weighted moving out,
Stopping, at the presence
Of lofty stagnant aired room, scented perfume, bouncing off eggshell walls
And the aged dust of those pupils.