Posts tagged ‘midwest’

July 16, 2016

turn at whole foods muse

a saturday morning commute,
when i see high performance
dick measurements
dancing across deep potholes
in our weekend downtown,
i realize that maybe my feet
say more on a quick walk
in broken-open slip-ons
than my hands do on virgin leather,
and that’s was my judgement,
and at a cracked bus stop
some authentic wait lonesome
for jesus christ and good luck
surrounded by windows mirrored,
exhaustion and new day;
who wears the pants and such anyway?
i think all this betwixt coffee sips
driving along the way,
i take it in over “ordinary world”
and think of Scorsese death
while our wet ball spins
(do i need a car wash to appeal?)
and his Porsche turns before me;
the shine blinds, maybe size small.

July 11, 2016

lastly we think

mostly driving home
from a reprieve between
standing pole pine–green!
and exalted glamping situation,

below old Duluth
past something Hinckley,
and their road mess,
and slow aggressive lot,

listening to No Agenda,
we realize that we have
realized nothing
for what we are told
by the local/national pundits
and stirring media,
the melting pot hot.

and we riot
and we protest
and we kill
and we oppose

and lastly we think… i am guilty too,

beyond what
we are told by something
being paid to have
us closely listen, sure.

know.

water cooler blues and divisive proclamations…

bad news multiplies
like rabbits and gets
spoke more gossip
than adultery, stay woke.

and lastly we think.
and lastly we think.
and lastly we think.

July 3, 2016

Commuter Theatre

Sitting, eyeing, on the green line east
at pull of rubber band force
from automatic closed doors,
this way going fast to St. Paul,
reading pulp & fodder & reviews–
rain taxi on such a fine day, muse,
truth as the second coming, we assume,
alone as this newborn child is,
before our welcome birthing days…
And these bells only go buzz
their purposeful bing accord,
and the hipsters trend all over
Twitter and Facebook storyboards,
and I read “Dessa”: as one name,
I am not too big to make real art,
hard looks and fresh lemon bitter.
I am here between twin cities
futzing with the magazine innards
tonguing sore mouth blisters
trying to find a schedule to go on mr…
Stories of contrast black and white
waiting on bleak blue dinged seats
and this line rolls along green,
in pale hot bright summer sun seen,
malaise in my stomach sits–pits,
Snelling, Hamlin, and Lexington,
sour as such sordid sentiment,
I bike to some new on old hopes
to pay cash for a tin roof owned,
I hope it’s not too far, still sitting,
still watching, waiting, thinking:
Do people really think they are fooling
anyone waiting at the scanner’s
edge to run up on the station
without paying the correct fare?
O, bad actors must have just forgot,
the commuter theatre is free today.

June 28, 2016

rivers and proverb

Rivers, pathways
for those who crave to float.

June 18, 2016

no. 7 at 14/61 and the future

Between violet sepia bluffs
Cars played lines
A haze grew thick—hot
Orange cones dictated
The fast up and down
Of empty traffic

Cemeteries waved at Dresbach
Sandy islands slipped away
A great dam held its ground
Where days felt longer
And time gave MN goodbyes

Polaris and the waxen moon
Lush grass and free truth
Spread out Abnet field
Voided streets, no yield
Completely consumed

Cigarette smoke rolled
In icy air conditioning
Talks, barstools pushed away
Rum doubles and a door
Familiar face accord

Hands gripped the wheel
Assail easy premonition
A new floor coming in
And I am sure there was
god and love and open skies

All around me the speed limit
All around me cut out hills old

June 5, 2016

the paper boy is dead

On a hunch I sauntered slowly
into fresh borne south of
this driftless region driveway
thinking of a town so small
and so brilliant with newness
that dove’s coos came warmer,
more complex and calming
in cascaded light,
sparrows tangoed along eaves,
nests bulged with twigs above a door—
turning back, I’d see every bump
on simple alien surface streets,
no moving cars, no people, just…
the newspaper there, on time.
7 years as never seen before,
mixed emotions at the thought:
could the paper boy have forgot,
to the end of the cement I went,
where straight lines and nature’s debris,
where I saluted hand over
brow to shield from a blindingness,
so practiced and so readied
the veteran orb could retire happy,
here street signs and crab trees sighed,
and we’d all freeze to death just
below shouldered green hills advancing
with leathered leaves flapping
sans our wrapped Sunday Tribune,
or the will to go anywhere else.

April 21, 2016

That thing you want so bad, and the rain

What a person would give
to wake whenever—
alarm clock inconsequential,
even for its buzzing
at startled sleeping ears;

next to a blossoming love laying,
touching, snoring, holding, warming;
giving thanks
for each nocturnal breath,
each pull of the down comforter
in a mute cat-hair covered duvet;

awoken to a springtime pitter-patter
which started the night before
after pictures on a screen—
now somewhat cold
listening to talk of global warming
with a whole day ahead,
oh god, Kerri Miller (sure…);

a few hours behind,
cleaned dishes sitting,
dripping as beyond the window,
and much wasn’t said
for want because this person had:

a few new books free
from Pierre Bottineau library
of Northeast (which it is not,
so I am told), flax-seed
and oats and brown sugar
and clear water;

this person sitting
had everything that was needed
and more just to realize it all
just to think,

from the inside out, heart beating,
synapse snapping, mindful
being, just slouched there,
and would give anything for it,
that thing you want so bad.

March 23, 2016

Lake Superior

Just past Duluth I saw it again, the gains along the highway, cutting tributaries, and well named signs. I saw Shore Creek, and cars parked along it, the patient fishing. Tired eyes captured the sun and we ate Betty’s pies in her quaint cafe. It was simply up there as we were, that vast deep blue along crimson spotted red, and varied pebbles. Seagulls cawed. How it was made: volcanos. Set up along verdant pine. A truck bounded past meltsnow and the hot going as it were. Lake Superior, North Shore, just past Duluth I saw it. Such a reprieve, and just up a bit. Hard to imagine its incredible immensity. Try and take a moment to see across where it bends at the horizon.

March 14, 2016

untitled 59

Skyscrapers and spires in the cool of night,
downtown & away, in the darkened light.
And we do what it is to make such sight burn,
we open eyes on what makes the soul yearn.

March 14, 2016

outside of the window

Out there,
beyond
split shades,
beyond
dusted glass,
beyond
stairs, fodder,
rocks, and uncared
for plants, a
twilight precipitation
beckons from
standing vehicles,
shining street
lamps of the
new day calling,
go out
and find.

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