Posts tagged ‘library’

April 18, 2018

eye forget

Individual on a library chair cross-legged, slanted posture, defined by my hue too. glued to this book of content unknown, under clouds too. hoping as you. not fearful of that, so they say. spread open again, flesh book, i grin. same name. no change. i don’t even remember me then. i wont begin to explain. this amnesiac has too much hunny, too little time, nothing to rhyme… vinegar for mind. we all do at times. as valued by how scarce it is; here is a free poem. no wonder im broke. on this chair seeing knowledge is the most valuable resource; cant sell those wares. bare. anyway. one day my eulogy or headstone will say: he was good at Twitter, people liked his stuff on Facebook. all prone. but not with that. it’s important. that media won elections and stole our souls. butt eye forget two.

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July 12, 2017

the logic of selling books at a public library

i never got it
while tutoring at hamline/midway
the evening crew
would ready the chairs
get the event set up
and talk
and put cookies out
and put coffee out
and the sun would drain away
in the winter void
and people would come in
and wait and watch
like stand men or trees
and listen
and i would read books with my student
at a round table with a sign
and talk words
and say this and that
and this is what that means
and i would get done
and bundle up for the walk down Minnehaha Ave W
to my warm home and wife and son
and wonder to myself
how could a person
possibly sell a book at a public library
full of books
that any person
could check out for free
with proof of residency
or a driver’s license,
a piece of mail with your address on it.
and that is why i love libraries
on negative 30 degree ice
walking home in wet boots
thinking wow, the sales poets are very bold
or just not that smart
or just i don’t know.
it’s not bad,
i don’t care,
it’s just interesting…

March 8, 2016

up NE

positivity
in the face
of adversity

no matter
what
neighbor street,

no matter
what
office room.

NE library
the desk lady
says no jobs,

even though
we just
pass through,

even though
we ask true.

and it was
light bulbs
and bike frames,

and it was
rush hour
and dive bars;

and it
was where
we are

and where
we’re going,

near or far.

But up NE.

June 2, 2015

At the Back of Hodson Hall

At the enormous back windows of Hodson Hall, looking east towards Falcon Heights’ standing homes, over an expanse of grooved fields—carefully worked, a person can gleam breaking light caught on cement sidewalks, red bricked structures, and shined square glass low in the early day haze.

Outside seagulls float, calling, in caressing morning brilliance at you, asking “caw?”

What does that mean??? I wonder.

Their questions as ambivalent as a cloud’s shape and meaning to curious children…

I wondered, how did they get here, there is no sea in Minnesota (smh).

These worldly reflections begged, knocked, and retained sharp attention of waking eyes, pupils pulled tight at the warming occurrence, such nature for a sparking mind to ponder, as if synapse was crackling, as if creation was tore in two.

Supple ears held the bird’s sound in their netted web of up and down—their inquiry, as they danced, above, gliding, laughing high pitched at you.

Only to stand and watch, only inside what is inside.

The sun had begun its orbital voyage, those with white feathers and all life in tow, infinite unending, and all the connections of connections exposed.

It paint as an artist’s brush over lands, trees and grass, overhead, above polo shirts and homeless ragged men, showing.

Leaving for a moment its mark; then as fleeting as it appears it vanishes to dark.

The warmth was there to stay—so ephemeral, as a Mayfly’s life, in a moment’s hesitation lost; shadows draw long in the absence, as flowers quick bend their praise.

A day we have, then not.
It is here, then it is gone.

This colorful set constantly changing, to the chagrin of progress, to the luck of fickle nature, and to the impromptu dialogue of the local theatre company.

Another tomorrow awaits at the end of coming dusk, with quizzical seagulls, with fascist sunlight, with worldly reflections in tow, with fired synapse and buttoned polos and people begging for change, anything you could spare will do, until they take their bow.

And the light caught it all at the back of Hodson Hall.

(End Scene.)

April 22, 2015

Paradise Lost (Over Beer)

I knew that it couldn’t ever be,
At that moment it was entirely true,
When I asked you to “throw me a beer”
And a Bud Light Lime is what you threw.

April 8, 2015

Coffee Sippin’ Reflections while Reading

There was an attractive space recently filled,
I read,
which became an empty void.

That empty void,
I read,
became a great opportunity.

That great opportunity,
I read,
became a fleeting moment.

That fleeting moment of great opportunity of an empty void,
I read,
was then filled whole.

In the process of planning,
I read,
you missed the entire occurrence.

O now how the coffee tastes
so bitter at the bottom,
I read.

April 3, 2015

To The Library, A Day of Doors

Here with a dashboard view,
sleepy eyes take
the quiet city coming alive,

we are few between many doors,

Falcon Heights and going,
street to street,
community to community,

into the morning routine forgotten
on this early route.

Sitting shotgun
under damp skies heavy,
and fleeting streetlamps,
there waiting is the shielded sun,

we go;

creamed coffee in the center console sea
splashes and waves,
ebbs and flows,
high tide to low,

becoming more clouded,

at each abrupt lurch of fresh tire to ground,
at each crude pothole found.

Out with a love kiss
and a copasetic slammed rusty door,

moving towards
a red-brick building amongst other zombies,
dogs, and cats—I hold the door.

Administration signs we pass: “authorized personnel only”,
keys with their jiggling change sound of agency,
intimately within, feeling special again…

Through vacant hallways which exist resembling tubes
and tunnels and fish tanks—minus exotic fish,
with subzero refrigeration units which are warning: no food (!),
and photos of past passers-thru hugging plaques.

Press a sticky button for the elevator—engage the motion,
ding ding ding, ah…
lonely polished doors open,
step in, and close, to hit the number four…

Wait…
Wait…
Wait…

I should have taken the stairs today…
I think, exercise…

We stop,
and out to a wooden door and a sparkling tile floor,
unclipping keys to enter this cryptic lounge,
no one near, just me here.

Turn in, let the day begin,
and come get your books.

December 29, 2014

Day Two: Dublin, Ireland.

Sitting here with a view of predawn Dublin;
Lights slowly flicker on,
A dark morning comes to fruition.

Stretching and yawning moans,-cold to chill the bones through,
And the others are asleep while I write to you.

Electrical outlets and jetlag at present,
As the global news dances on a set.

From this now local residence, everything must be accounted for in this list’s existence:
Not to miss a flipped switch, groceries, taxis, euros, and pubs, a lit doorway in the distance.

Sitting alone,
Taking it in.

Thoughts of warm tea, or coffee.

The cold in my throat looms as heavy as the cold in the room,
And the sun has not yet risen to melt it away.

I wait for Day Two in Dublin, a brand new day.

October 14, 2014

The Cost of Education

Onion yellow pages prove the condition
of every Norton Edition I’ve been given;
there is a rubber-band taut around that,
to keep their edges from bending back.

Expensive lot of the campus book store,
with every Professor prescribing more.
I ponder the decision of this fine selection.
Asleep eyes open; scanning at attention.

Who writes these lines that I must remind*?
-With so much content leaving little time.
Fixed to a station, sitting rigid on a chair,
even short breaths find it hard to suck in air.

American Lit. comes but twice on weekdays.
I could’ve used the library in so many ways.
Next semester I’ll scrape, steal, and borrow
So that future bank visits won’t end in sorrow.

Aside from that, it’s the price we pay for our education;
Now, we must be mindful of the freedoms of other nations.

*Recall
*
Germany = Free Tuition

September 19, 2014

Lovely Location

i love where i’m at
a dog licks paws in back
a chair below offers comfort, my seat
i am moderately relaxed

i love where i’m at
no one tells me what to do
no one yells at me or you
non-profit is the bottom line;
i can see my day through

i love where i’m at
most days same old act
used to be tired of my situation
now it’s-
computer’s buzz as people chat

i love where i’m at
days of coffee cream and stacks
reading books in the moment, as in now-
Auf Wiedersehen til i get back

i love where i’m at
didn’t get here in a day
struggled through shit people played
don’t have too much to say
i will tell you on the way:

i love where i’m at.
i love where i’m at.

Where are you?