Posts tagged ‘love’

October 18, 2017

you go for it too, the end

our supposed sapience
this rabbit hole venture
grandeur, alluredly postured,
vested interest paying,
found wholly bound,
tied tight in pragmatic gestures,
molded, wired twill, just there. and not.
and the poses for those trite tripe elations
on adolescent medias ubiquitous,
for social aspirations, affirmation,
fleeting, vanishing in yesterday’s yesterday.
once a thought gone for
a thousand other good thoughts gone,
nothing to where i stand nowly.
these buildings were here, they saw too.
that bridge was here on Washington Ave.
this coffee hot was not.
Nor your laugh sharp, piercing…
your ideas are great, just imagine.
your politics are not his or hers or the self-appointed’s.
something like that.
something like this.
like the sheer wind cutting under blue hue.
stained words on paper.
hard text on a page.
a fortnight’s digested and expelled intentions.
will fill a box nicely one day.
morgues aren’t like in the television shows.
you will see it soon too.
then you won’t, verily.
and i just thought i would
tell you about it in this type.
because some day i can’t.

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October 1, 2017

our cat is a dreamer

my wife’s cat
is a dreamer,
every day at the back door
she waits to make her escape.
she’s not fixed and doesn’t have tags.
she’s a thrifty ad hoc anti-vaxxer.
motivated by nature and toms perhaps.
meowing and purring,
her only feline actions,
pawing at it, batting like the Twins near some threshold.
she needs to get out very soon, clearly.
sometimes with hands full
when we get home after a hard day’s work
she takes the open opportunity
to let loose timidly…
goddamn, stinky cat!!!
Get her, get her, get her… 
we will say, some chorus
no Clover! get back in, girl, get in there!
Get back in there, now!
we love her very much, like leftover pizza.
shoeing her in and shutting the door behind us.
she has some dreams–big ones, innate,
i tell you,
she goes for it every time, so fast.
true persistence, tenacity, super human.

September 21, 2017

reflections of you

i figure a mirror,
start treating others
how you are treated
and if they get mad
so what? …
open the windows on morning light,
we find there is none,
and stalkers walking by,
close them fastly sharp,
i see the sidewalks empty
these chipped frames have no subjects,
eat my pancakes in scarfs.
tell ears that i am political
with taking care of our child,
tell her watch and see.
actions sound better than words to me,
but the words that form them… i don’t know.
i figure a mirror, watch me be you.
watch me learn from you.
did you write this lesson, or is it improvised?
do you like how it feels?
do you like how I deal the cards?
no matter, like the mirror
i just stand and reflect, inverted, obscured,
catch you as you go by when
you turn on the lights to glow
and even when you don’t.

September 14, 2017

Love in American Midwestern English

everybody’s different, you know,
they got different ways of loving.

September 3, 2017

you cannot know ever

do go ahead, appeal to me:
be open, be thoughtful , be free.
be like the antilablists be:
no “know”, no fact, no meaning.

August 13, 2017

what my wife thinks about what you think about what i write and a blurb about the whaling industry from In the Heart of the Sea

on a candlelit porch my wife implored, inspired and went on
why do you care about what they think?
why do you care about what they think of what you write?
it has nothing to do with them, what you think or compose…
looking for spermaceti candles and fate meaning, i.

reflecting, Nantucket sent those to gather Port Royal Toms to eat
without a thought but hunger; left virgin islands storied infernos,
thought about that and words and writing and language
on a porch serene treasure, old books, good love…
what do you think? wait, nevermind.

bubbling up, i recall her burnt hand expressing white temperatures
on clear glass, how it changes so fast and silence and police scanner siren;
dropping my whisky for a similar purpose; icing thumb: and scroll go.
watching the blue grass grow, not much to see here,
coo-coo clocks and barometers and books of ships and screens
that do keep us safe from what’s out there far away, calling a din.

August 8, 2017

What?! 

Telling someone you love them and what their mettle is worth to you can happen in the blink of an eye, on the tip of a lash, in the time that you scroll a same feed or update your ever-changing status. Those around you don’t hear it in their eardrums enough–not enough to reach the valves of their hearts… so what is your so special and meaningful excuse? And can you bear to express it? 

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July 23, 2017

if monsters could leave the city

oh tru morning between aging cof
fee and covfefe and chuck dick,
one resignation away from a full deck,
and the meeting the Washington press
people who are good actors–
i mean really fucking good actors,
for saying things like fair and
balanced like a fat thumb on
the honest scale but it doesnt matter.
not like the gamma rays cutting,
not like a baby bouncing new teeth
through the clouds haloing above
the old trees and cut grass: lawn boy:
a broken pinion and the late sunday paper.
more gas on the ground than in it,
more save the world than wtf? locally
heard a domestic disturbance yesterday,
saw someone stealing a mainstreet car.
i suppose if i dont shave
the people who i teach in China wont care
probably wont notice beyond my American smile…
coffee again, father john misty again;
i like the art on the vinyl.
car parked in our odd garage.
monday take out our hot garbage.
so many movements to make,
only got to make movements.
i want to take the time to watch the snake
eat itself slowly as they say bye bye Betsy–
to hear her say she wont have it,
and i think what does
she think of party-made monster,
probably should get through Frankenstein,
probably should hideout somewhere.
or like a scapegoat leave the country.
if monsters could leave the city.

June 26, 2017

wake

A cool pale morning,
Birds chirping their song.
A day to be taken whole,
I, hitting snooze again.

May 28, 2017

Moon man

Im sure
that
when my dad died
he didnt die
he moved to the moon.
He builds planes
there not rockets.
Flies them too.
Sort of stranded tho.
Even when we see a sliver
hes up there.
Waiting.
Working hard.
Getting stronger,
ready to tell a good story.
He does that.
Just up there alone,
cold, thought of.
I wonder when hell come back down.
He told me
of men on the moon
and heaven
in some valley
somewhere
but long ago.
See him up there?