Posts tagged ‘music’

December 17, 2017

Breaking News is Tragic Theatre, bring Popcorn

While the world is ending
supposedly (every day now per whoever…)
i want to eat pizza and cheese curds,
drink fresh water and OJ and
watch the Vikings win in real time
and dream about good weather. SUch Fantasy.
Weekends are dead before they begin anyway.
Pounding words into a strange keyboard morning,
hacking lifeblood into some toilet.
I thought antibiotics would help.
I thought the inhaler would help.
Telling me there is bigger problems
for people who aren’t me, damn.
but when you shut off the TV there aren’t
very many to remember, recalling,
so why would I want it to remind me so?
We play cards against humanity.
We want fair but fair ain’t that great.
And we put the seat up out of respect.
We ask for scandal because it interests,
stake our claims on being
taken for fools, look see: news. Buy this new thing.
Tell her you love her with consumerism.
All while the world is ending.
Can a person resign from this animal planet?
I am selling my whole life to make ends meet.
tho maybe they don’t want to.
paying medical bills and insurance simultaneously to no avail.
One bag, drill, shoe, tent, book at a time.
This channel will tell me all about all
the problems I should focus on today, because.
Still some people just die in traffic.

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November 26, 2017

list of life and lists

a work                                                     of art in progress
such                              a sort of sorts
too much                                  of some things, nothings
a few       more beers, more cheers at the rail
of mice                           and men–books
a river                                    runs thr            ough it–fictions
lighting            the lights Riverside Park
dogs                  killing rabbits   in the backyard
in the                           morning                as
coffee          drips down, down, down, yum…
here the elevation                                     of the bluffs
is high                    as the heavens  call it home, come back,  call it home
a whole city below aglow,  November cold, no snow
sacred, blessed, meaningful flag waving above
bald eagles soaring on pause, floating: not sure what it sees
shining, driftless center like me
movement, more movement between
a city with its shit together
(they collect the leaves and
they have nice streets and it shows)
running in circles, no pot holes
talking the same, politics and pain
narratives of truthful ideas
narratives of appeal (so real)
exhausted we climb on
exhausted we climb on Eagle Bluff Trail
crumpled leaves and sweet sap
and a tree dying on top of an Impreza, I think
cafe jazzing my way through it all

July 19, 2017

american times with jim morrison

our heads of dead fuses
our mouths agape true voids
a spectacle for wires
a mind melts to ash, to lava
thoughts run thin, amok
edgewise at horizons flesh
horizontal at still birth
vertical at death above a sink
eyes cutting the mirrors veneer
blood wet like new glue
mind between here and there
mostly gone anon along
and someone was something-else
as the church bells rang like a lost phone
and the doors closed tightly
to darkness and morning like
vacated loving foreign tenants
of our american times
of our american times

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.

January 15, 2017

cord-cutters of the world, unite and take over

cutting the cord
i found that
Comcast is a triste tryst,

unknowingly before
but CenturyLink
changed this.

November 8, 2016

“heyday”

on the early TV alone
with my whole rolled oats
sometime this morning
i wonder about
photography of our great city.
or the station programemed me that.
how on earth does one
get a book on all channels
during election season
at the most opportune time,
just months before
holidays like christmas–
where this sort of
coffee table aesthetic is hot?
what kind of names to know?
i mean i want to publish to pay.
oh, and Prince died
and Babes In Toyland are best friends,
just picture that. those stills.
i kind of want to check out his title.
i kind of want a ticket
to that museum to see
the innards royalty didn’t
want anyone to see, privacy: Paisley Park.
now just for money.
seemed like a good guy,
seemed like an artist,
i wonder about connections,
i wonder how this time
on these networks is arranged…
call me, let’s set up a time.
now my oatmeal sets in its bowl,
now the weather and something new.
Blair Walsh is being challenged.
tell us to vote and who for.
read between the programs.
what new text should i buy next?

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.

February 6, 2016

fir st age mu sic

is it
od
d
that
clas-
sical
music
ca-me
be
fore
every
thing
else?

shoul
dn’t
it be
cal
led
experi
mental
mus
ic… ?

first
age
sound.

January 20, 2016

“Culprit: Snow” -On The Radio

We learn fast, as seasonal
delay strikes + the bitter
cold becomes bitter cold,
that even an inch of white
matters, even Minnesotans
can’t handle these roads.

December 20, 2015

new sunday (amassing life)

the objective thermostat here
is hard butter on a dirty
busy kitchen countertop.
other contraptions don’t work.
i am front page, B & C,
and Columbia Heights business.
they want coffee shops for
auto care, they want a place
to find what they need.
they, they, they, but who?
this is sunday with my nose
in a creased Star Tribune.
i am at home with Jazz 88(.5),
with the smell of burnt sourdough.
that which surrounds creates.
sounding the packaging from
yesterday’s christmas market parade;
that was money well spent.
coffee travels with it in aromas and
heat to our morning stomachs.
empty then, now made stuffed full.
just two grown up children
at a register, talking about getting
quarters for laundry, where baristas
broke food & beverage codes,
and what goes on later that day was told.
i don’t want to get sick, i just want.
i love the short weekends for
what they are, for what our
society allots a persona like me. i can
afford this for just five days of paid toil
out of the lengthy work week, and
i think, it might be worth the wait.
new sunday measuring the warmth,
running in the cold; we are finding two
for five for a 40 hour amassing life.
and that is how exactly i am i.