Posts tagged ‘life’

April 20, 2017

hidden being 

This morning I pride at vagrant onion’s growth in a yard I do not own, much the same. 

Further up, a posture they make. Black riches to stalked roots, only skyward they take. 

And you, yellowish waxen orb, wiggle cold, with arms and legs exposed, you think as they sort,

I pulled you from your socketed pocket of a home.

Then I go. 

And wet blades dance and light along the dampened sidewalk pathway, along the road. 
Where I guess they call this Spring, 

where poets fix their names and fill their pockets with change that vanishes next day like the rain.

O but the words and these hidden beings. 

To pull them out of layered entities.

April 11, 2017

the night was ok here in st paul…

what a night.
one to still breathe in
fresh air out there.
thankful, i do care…
for the cold brown beans,
for the expensive warm heat,
for the voided leave-less trees–
they make this
sort of explosion
of a thousand fingertips
in the fore of holding their place in
some melting pale hue color of shadowed bone,
the sun is gone tho.
friends and kin die alone; now alone.
even thankful for that
and the cat.
and mosquitoes: minnesota bats
where you at?
between making it and i cant.
thankful i am in the midwest
not religious, but blessed.
not tired, no rest.
thankful for that still, yet.
more water from the tap
more teaching, notebook’s in lap.
filling in the gaps.
dont worry, dont clap.
what a night.
what a night.
thankful it’s free to me.
thankful have it be.

April 10, 2017

Nothing to do

A dented car, the front as a pug, not planned as that, like life. And we criticize the fate for being, criticize the sun for heating, walk alone in desolate winter and ask for a warm hand to help guide. Nothing to do. Nothing to do. Cant change it.

April 7, 2017

Forever. 

Dre
am

un
aw
ok en.

April 5, 2017

social sensitivities

here i see social sensitivities
so let’s stretch
his hands out and ride the 16
to the 67 to wind in the face and more wait…

or really cry about
something that won’t happen, ever.
like justices being served in prison terms;
like i won a million dollars.
and the crux of the biscuit is:

we know jason isbell personally,
sort of through someone else, a best friend,
through someone else, a wife,
through someone else, a bandmate
and probably not.

Bourdain said it right tho…
right there on the tv
with Bill Murray over Budweiser
or whisky or wine or food or jagermeister…

all because of a tee shirt
all because of a wet cough

and some sort of talk about needed monies.
but that’s truly a redundancy.

seeing pretty houses and i might buy mine own
all from the comfort of this overpriced rental,
on my living room couch,
just sitting next to you.

March 30, 2017

press on strong…

every day to the last,
and make that so.

March 14, 2017

the lottery

every day
is like
another
lottery ticket,
even if you lose,
at least
you can
still dream.

March 7, 2017

512 i see, i hear

5:12 AM a teapot steams and sputters,
wet me and drying hair,
i’ve been told they needed something to escape.
the furnace rumbles to a start,
to a certain temperature–it has a point.
machine better than most people.
Katy bar the door on things.
i am thankful that i worked hard
as a child–being brought up,
i feel that unlike my contemporaries
i could handle the outcome of an election,
the outcome of not getting what i want,
had i voted differently,
had i actually cared about results
that didn’t really do more than i did.
thanks dad. and what does that amount to?
some teapot and hanging drape,
teaching English in another day all the same.
what are countries anyway?
5:12 AM, made it, sore tooth, jaw killing,
take meds, fallible and flawed and dying,
i see, i hear.
this green tea in me for the better.
i suppose it’s better for you too.

March 6, 2017

either or, something more

either, or,

i am either
or.

or something
more.

or something
more.

either, or.

March 2, 2017

my grave concerns 

i wish for the opportunity, the privilege rather, to have grave concerns for what mankind about me, 

in ways of fortune and prosper for all, but alas, a roiled monster lives in my boots, an insatiable unctuous grey leech takes my rent, 

and my daylight toils are endless to purchase a mere breath above clouded water’s crest; 

perhaps i am not sure i am equiped. I might be occupied by just my self. call it my grave concerns.