Posts tagged ‘love’

March 19, 2017

dad knew

i cut the shades to sunrise pale
because there was nothing there and my father.
there were words in book.
there were time spent in the recesses of my brain,
turned to gas and confusion,
lost attentions and forgotten bank statements.
where i used to fly planes even though
i would fill the bag and he would laugh.
then a plane crash. i could feel the fields
and the corn and the trees
and the dirt in the valley as we looked for that wheel
which exploded off on impact.
it was back at the hangar.
…and he used to make bombs like Uncle Sam
and blow deer heads off of walls,
they made sounds like shotguns miles away,
black trash bags and simple chemistry.
smells like someone is burning pine or trash.
cut the shades to nitrogen.
just a thought. the reflection of the house next door
and its waxen motion sensor light,
should have been changed months ago to be effective.
and nothing. cut the shades, they can see in
and i can see out
and i am sure there is nothing there.
that’s what happens with your attitude
and aspiration as you come closer to it.
to that one thing that no one talks about
and pretends isn’t there. dad knew.

March 6, 2017

either or, something more

either, or,

i am either
or.

or something
more.

or something
more.

either, or.

January 1, 2017

7102, wow,

the year 2017, wow, is going to be 365 new ones,
with bubbles, pink shrimp and bloody Rib-eye.
Less of a killer hangover for new dads,
more time to think on things that happen.
Watching church shows: Joel Osteen,
for his positive message: no god, no. Imagine.
probably atrocities, probably anomalies;
probably complaints—and still, who cares?
Sunday, January 1, 2017… no 6 anymore.
Don Lemon’s pierced ear, tequila shots
and a fake wall built on the Washington Ave bridge;
like the Titanic museum in Belfast, UK,
the building is shaped like an iceberg;
where contradictions lie in wait and wait.
A coffee cup of coffee, within it false creamer.
Ersatz-politics adumbrate plastic news, woo.
All for salubrious sorts and their goodly peers.
Have a great time, everyone, welcome to day one.

December 23, 2016

what to expect when you sit down to write a poem

When you sit down to write a poem
it mostly happens. I believe that anyone can do it.
Writing poems is easy, depending on the poems
you write and the audience you write to.
If you were a press and your goal was to make money
off of poems, then your audience would be donors.
I assume they are harder to write to than bloggers.
I guess an idea that blew my mind is
publishers would have competitions
and offer cash prizes and then after they rejected you
they would send out emails about
how they need your money. I never got that.
People asking for donations after they rejected your work,
as if the words you wrote lacked the luster
and the importance of the words of others.
I suppose certain grant writers get more money
for certain words, certain editors need salaries,
and certain ideas hit closer to home.
I mean, I am a father, a husband; I am white and male
(but none of that matters; but identity is chic now);
I have tried hard as any to get to where I am.
I would say I am a poet but by most accounts
and the emails I get, that means I am a failed poet.
I don’t make rent or pay bills off of my work,
it pays in smiles and a sort of pride
that only you and I would understand.
What I do is safe as a handrail on icy stairs.
What I do is very, very, very easy
because doing something you love shouldn’t be hard.
What I do isn’t exactly defined, thankfully;
in a scene you have to either be or not
or just keep going until someone notices you
and either says “shit” or “genius” or “you are that poet”
and that really depends on the time of year
and who you are close friends with,
and what kind of poem you read at the open mic, and how.
So, I have noticed, when you sit down and write a poem
it usually happens, and you can do it,
though I would say most are worried about perfection,
how other people feel about their ideas,
and would hide their art because
it might lack meaning, identity, or a soapbox purpose,
absolutely defined by others in a social vaccuum.
But we will never know. And that is why I wrote this poem
precisely for you. I find it a huge success.
Writing mostly happens, or I guess it doesn’t.
Easy as mom’s Facebook post or Trump’s tweets.
Easy as pressing keys and not marketing.

November 10, 2016

as they say: the end is nigh, (so smile)

apparently our world
is crumbling to
the ballot scattered ground,
over clear democratic process;
i might understand that:
you win some, you lose some,
(the electoral college decides),
you comfort and console some,
you congratulate and celebrate.
or ~300 in St Paul may protest.
or a sheer silence thickens.
or Chuck Todd gets sad.
i don’t know, ask CNN how to feel.
standing, watching from low,
at a distance, there is nothing
to do, but observe the fray,
it doesn’t really matter…
like most, i am lost for words.
time to breathe in and smile.
we all made it through Bush anyway.
america will most likely move on.

October 18, 2016

introduction, american opinion

meet melting pot america.
meet freedom of speech.
meet upset by freedom of speech.
meet why so mean america?

meet wow, i am confused.
meet holy shit, what freedom?
meet let’s change this idea.
meet we try to do and do right.

meet not broken don’t fix it.
meet individual in a group.
meet thoughts of talk and action.
meet make, make, make, and make.

meet comes with the territory.
meet that’s life, so they say.
meet i love Dr. Seuss…
meet cry baby, why baby?

meet the reality that is, and why.
meet why change, instead love.

October 10, 2016

fact check

usually when i fact check
it’s from an uninvolved 3rd party.
now that’s usually, just for reference.
though this isn’t science,
this may be far less important.
10 electors will vote for the lot in Minnesota:
electoral college, USA. usually when
i fact check, it doesn’t really matter…
(now perhaps the same for voting)
more of a hobby. you can go to
mplsscene.com and fact check that.
see how it’s all right there and only fair?
see how “facts” don’t really matter?

September 18, 2016

La Crescent Haiku #1

Fog of deep valley
drifts away from verdant bluffs.
Small town soul revealed.

September 9, 2016

understandings of a future father

…if you are pregnant in minnesota
you (i guess) carry twice as much blood;
therefore, occasionally you will find
that mosquitos really do love you.

July 29, 2016

advice for students from a post-graduate (survey answer)

Take all chances.
Study abroad.
Do things that others tell you not to do.
Do what you think is right.
Try everything.
Prepare yourself for a career you enjoy from experience.
Labels and titles do not matter.
Always network.
Always be present and visible.
Be different.
Believe in yourself, really.
Have a passion for what you are interested in.
Always, always be early.
And think positive.