Posts tagged ‘out-of-doors’

May 16, 2016

border waters

coffee muck
below
where the
rocks
at surface
caught wake
and
came sharp;

lines down
undulating
bringing
depths to rise
bringing
the mystery
from to

we bobbed
at border waters

up and down

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November 1, 2015

Taking in the Forest

Leave colors inexplicable
Roots simply acquiesced
Bark came torn to forcibly
Counting the rings within

August 31, 2015

Cedar Lake South

Colors undulated in water’s reflection
Each vessel thrown motion on waves.
Daylight slipped between fast shadows
Astir with dust, sunscreen, and wake.

Reading and discussion as people laze,
Land mammals splashed with excitement.
Allowing the arched path of hot sun play,
Keeping covered eyes from its vibrance.

Etched in sand were castles and hills,
So many fantasies that were imagined.
On the surface a light breeze gave chills.
Under vast clear indigo sky’s advantage.

Those gathered took their weekend time;
Hurried for nothing, just this life alive.

July 24, 2015

Taking St. Anthony Main

St. Anthony Main was taken
on a summer’s dusk
through an old camera lens,

near the Mississippi and giant cotton woods,

people in dress—exposed flesh,
on bike, on foot,
on patios seeming elegant.

The redbrick streets
below told them
to stay out and go;

worn down, and by ice cracked,

each square watched,
unable to properly stress:

for winter would come to take it all away,
their warmth in breath,
hot sun, breezy outside comfort
and laisse faire sentiment—

what they had missed at that time
would turn cold-fast to regret.

O’ the summer is spent.
O’ take what we can get.

July 16, 2015

An Evening in a North Forest

Loam, marrow, stone, and humus—
where open groves of pine bent in sway,
stained-wood new growth,
a green tent setup
and stretched between.

We went tearing, hard traipsing,
gutting fish at a low fire glow
near an old truck.

A sharp knife’s prick in
a valley’s deep expanse—
words far off and then gone;

neighbors chattered, birds chirped,
and the wind whistled
where we breathed in,
adjusted focus, stretched, and pulled.

It was merely coming through,
it was a mere passing chance.

It was an evening in a north forest.

June 11, 2015

you look like you got some sun

One of my favorite phrases to hear on Monday is,
“Oh, you got a bit of sun over the weekend…”
The idea of going outside and sitting in the sun
without buildings, without work, without people,
without being stuck in-doors, without a thing to do,
without being paraded around like a fool at a party,
without the constraints of what society deems correct:
you should wear sunscreen, you should cover up!
you should avoid a sunburn—it will cause cancer!
I have to assume that people die of accidents daily.
You should avoid cigarettes, and expensive scotch,
and domestic beers, and fishing, and jerking off,
and relaxing for no reason, and not doing anything,
and cooking raw red meat, and frying fillets of fish,
and reading a book, or two, and driving an old truck,
and thinking about sexual fantasies, or debauchery.
Yeah, you should probably avoid all of those fun things,
and while you’re at it, make sure to hide from the sun.
Nah. I want to say, “You didn’t get any sun at all?
That’s great, I am sorry to hear you are a shut-in.”
But rather to save some time, I just say, “Yeah.”

June 8, 2015

On Eighth Crow Wing Lake…

a million worlds balanced atop globules
of settled wake and rain, dancing on strung-up
green leathered water lilies in rolling waves.

These beaded reflections, moving,
were a million of you and a million of me;

crystals bouncing with electric light, cosmos lithe,
changing, above tadpole, water beetle, and autumn’s fallen leaves.

***

No question these microcosms stand in wait,
bobbing on a clear lake,
on each movement thrown within,

contemplating nothing—save for seen,
by those who pass in man-powered vessels,
just a moment in time, taking what they can.

***

Seagulls carried shadows
above their lives on a lake.

Here, undulating up and down,
and many worlds away.

June 3, 2015

Moving Wood in West Lakeland

Wood laid in a pile,
brought down in the days before;
years of life soon ash.