Posts tagged ‘life’

May 17, 2017

reinventing the wheel

adulting is a non-stop everything, everywhere and always. no more mac-n-cheese naps with mommy and mr. rogers. keep the bathroom open. listen for the monitor. wake up early, that’s late. eat later, after the feeding. get used to it. dont try.
try not to complain. the heat will turn up. the cold will come. the furnace will die. never really had AC, so… the bills will grow higher in a pile until they start to call your phone from unknown numbers that look familiar. growing. like your gray hairs. like your thin patience. like your elongated nose and drooping ears. coffee stained teeth black holes between. like the grass when you let it go for 2 weeks. and still, humans turn to antique glass. fragile to the touch, sagging at the bottom, blemished for worth. thicker and distorted. probably gravity we blame. and the wheels will stop. and the wheels will fall off. kick them tho. be ready to get down and dirty and fix it, even if you aren’t a pro. that’s how it goes. a new something for you to find a new way to fix a new something. reinvent the wheel why don’t ya? –for gods sake. or try to imagine a time when and where things get much easier and you grow softly younger and everyone thinks positively the same, that they are happy too… and you can keep your wisdom at that.

May 16, 2017

fresh breath of water

here are words and thoughts.
here are posts and talks.
where we go and where
we dont… rather not say.
rain falls through windows
sideways, kissing a leaden sill.
the broken internet is dead,
that means my castle is down.
ok google, make me rich.
ok google, grant this wish.
ok google, play jazz.
see, that one works–soundtrack to my life.
one works and works and works.
and one really doesnt.
they dont like the prospects, every option.
probably not a pension in protest.
and me too, many things are hard.
i am worried about all these poets
with all their problems–no odes,
saying all of the same things
begging for different, acting as fact similes.
we are and we arent the same and writers.
stand up comedy was much easier, welcoming;
comics want the same thing, yes: a laugh,
and they get it in different ways, yes. that.
i am just wondering, worried.
will be home to teach English in China.
will be home after learning them to read.
will be home some day when i get one,
now i must buy a box–be sure.
a million different reasons
to not be the same, to create change–but talk,
but friends and donations and money
might dictate that. the focus. the appearance.
no one wants to hear about
what i look likes problems.
there are bigger and more unjustices,
there are impossibles that simply must.
i trust that it will smoothly be
ironed out over time by talking heads.
and they keep praying. and stay awokened.
tell me to believe, hard to do now.
i cite science, but i respect all religions;
that is not a dichotomy, that is reality.
i am just looking for my free lunch,
and my wife and my sons, and everyone else’s too,
an ad hoc lottery ticket: to win,
and some time to find some time.
when i do i promise to buy you something…
no one knows though,
and our roof disappears in July,
as the money did for my emergency health.
all in the same fish bowl
trying to find the fresh water and good shade
and not get called out for it.
buying the cheapest beer,
hardly eating anything at all.
enjoying what i did in the past more and more.
man, i was living the dream then and now.
and that is how i got here, you too. ­čÖé

May 14, 2017

get away from it all (mn state parks)

Minnesota state parks do it for me,
like Prozac for some. And less
expensive, and less expensive counseling.
You know you always need to come back
to get better, to pay the doctor,
to make sure the pills are working…
For this i just need a sticker, it’s $25 dollars
and there are no commercials or brochures.
This is better: the ca-chunck of a cold can,
the wetted splash of a distant paddle,
waves calmly lapping my naked feet
in May waters of the St Croix.
here, i think Minnetonka moccasins
should be call Dominican Republic moccasins;
because that’s where they are made, really.
(please see the label for their local status.)
i found my sister’s pot-of-gold lure mimic’d,
twisted it on, threw it out: caught nothing
but a buzz and rocks and sun.
Line gone, line spun, line done.
Watched a lady smell pine sap
her dog lashed to a leash nigh,
she covertly hid her keys on her tire,
as we watched,
and she played Bob Dylan on a ukulele
before the slowly coming dusk.
i watched a child just hang in an ergo baby all day.
i saw the light cut through.
Drank liquids from an orange Nalgene.
Saw the reflection off brown current
cause camera obscura on some island bark,
made my pole dance and my eyes hurt too.
Still i got no fish… not even a bite.
Names cut to rock with metal or twig
in hearts to prove they love, maybe still.
More sap on the pine–i want a whiff too.
i’ll tell you something true.
Once, i wrote a good poem here for a class
that didn’t care. It was about killing bugs. Should have
read the other one comparing me to Picasso–it didn’t matter.
MN state park days are the best to get away.
my shoulders turned a shade of red
and they do label me a shade of white.
Been black and blue, purple, green and yellow too.
my mind thought about what the sign meant
as vessels drifted by, people yelling.
looking for their open sites, theirs.
neosavages, these: European, free, socially aware,
middle-class, their Prius’s and Subarus parked,
tents popped up, foraging in rented canoes,
life vests and manufactured paddles. Pointing like pioneers.
We are still too close to the city i suppose
And the DNR’s new 100 percent reserve policy
on all the good campsites
has them coming in intellectual droves
and this time they bring science not god,
(well at least some.)
Cutting out the day-tripper maybe-stayers in their prime!
Not sure what is worse…
How does a regular guy get away from it all anyway?

May 13, 2017

he died doing what he loved

the day before my dad died
my grandma told me to call him,
she handed me the phone and i dialed.
he answered and asked me to visit him in Lanesboro.
per usual, of course i couldnt,
i was busy marrying my cousin
and her new husband,
i was to fish brook trout and hunt morel
at an expansive farm in Highland, MN.
he told me about how midget strippers
were from that area
and he told me he could fly me in a plane
back to the Cities on Sunday. and he could truly.
but i get sick on planes, ex: my whole life.
i would tell him that so he didnt feel bad.
i laughed, so did grandma–a-mid-dementia.
now the cat barfs on the windowsill in St Paul
and i cant move to clean it.
you read, he told me this story.
that was the last i knew of his soul.
now i want an old motorcycle and three kids,
i want a lot of land in the countryside
and to own my own business, sort of like him.
i want to tell rude stories and make people laugh.
all around me is this fabric to weave,
even that old dreaded piece of a phone call
i hide because it worries and bothers
and turns me 4 years younger, less jaded and
more naive. i see him leaving every day is a possibility.
i just wonder when he will come back.
and some believe in ghosts and gods and scripture,
i havent seen much in the way of poltergeists or apparitions;
the afterlife exists now in tongues and no more.
i only feel the ones i never knew
and could care less to just pass
and call my imagination gone astir
or drunken views taken in the timid darkness.
i heard he died doing what he loved a lot,
and when that happens they say it is good.

May 12, 2017

some talk (about being poets)

d-u-d-e,
i do
things.

May 11, 2017

O another one?

Adult tragedy snowball.
Get ready, it keeps coming.
No matter the season.
No counting on global warming.
Maybe your silly inspiration
is a lie about a lie
in order to sell you something.
I wouldnt know. different
demographic, different idk.
Lying in bed thinking whats next?
Pure sun on the horizon morrow,
a few new numbers to block.
Keep gathering all that jaded feel.
Or just go and catch a fish.

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May 6, 2017

inch for a mile

any room can be a set
any words can be dialogue
any time can be a moment
any thing can be nothing
und so weiter, und so forth

May 2, 2017

a most tragic death

i think of an all right time
when the most tragic death occurs,
all will know, of course,
in a time of The Voice
and Reddit and justice movements
(goes along with it)
and wanting atonements and fast wishes,
so social it makes
me sick to my 8 minute abs,
more dirty than the morning dishes,
makes me want to turn eunuch introvert,
makes me want to not be invertebrate,
makes me want you to
get dressed backwards
while speaking in new snake tongues–how fun,
while your self-abuse heals you timid.
i think of it now, and i don’t cry.
i think of it now, and i don’t try.
the obituary will read:
… was a totally normal person without
any addiction problems or malfunctions,
absolutely in tune with all in the room
–you can tell by the photos and likes and comments too–proof–
… dies in a tragic Facebook accident
only somewhat entirely consumed.
yes, they did. taken too soon.
and there will be no laughter.
and there will be no hereafter.
and you won’t have to worry about what your friends will think.
because it will all be more real
than the network could handle,
more real than your profile is just now.

May 1, 2017

supereverything 

Therefore and so.

April 29, 2017

Now.

That which
was ere
lead to.