Posts tagged ‘hands’

June 3, 2015

Moving Wood in West Lakeland

Wood laid in a pile,
brought down in the days before;
years of life soon ash.

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May 5, 2014

Pre-Game Summer (Mayday 2014)

Of early summer days, at the parade:

When late hands adorn grease and dirt,
Evidence produced of work and worth.

Beer stains on shirt-
What’s worse?

A face tight from sun bright;
Fried,
Sun-burnt,

Smile with deep lazy pride,
A good hurt.

Rode through
Commuting by
What exercise?
What a great time.

Things not done in winter,
Don’t think of that,

–Think of that.

Minnesotans had become bitter;
Different,
Now back.

In groups we relax.

Clear skies managed weather apropos for on-the-go.

Outside,
Midday,
Mayday,

Until night

With the cricket songs
And the crowds gone

We ride our way back,
And wake with the morning light.

January 26, 2013

Perfect Morning Placement (Still-life Vagrant)

She said (some of this):

 

Passion is where your hands are at.

 

The moment you realize hotels never have quality coffee…

You have one in your hands…

 

The moment you realize the last thing you need is an ice cold beer…

You have one in your hands…

 

Love is in your hands.

 

My girl is back; my dick still works.

My ex says I have only one good quality:  A sense of humor…

 

I say perks.

 

She calls pretty regular

Smiles are not her concern.

 

I say adjunct.

 

I’m still laughing.

It was a joke that we lasted so long, yet nothing is right or wrong.

 

The aftermath is where the real comedy lies.

After that one has to decide.

 

Perfect morning placement.

There are so many different arrangements.

 

Big teeth, big eyes, no lies.

The truth is its good.

 

Staying in 3 different places, in 3 different stages, in 3 different ranges.

Enjoying the Now placement, living like a vagrant.

 

***

 

Train travel babble.

Ride the rails like thoughts, its hard to get lost when there is no destination.

 

***

 

And she asks on some social media site, “Do I know you?”

And I answer, “Probably not.”

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?