Posts tagged ‘outdoors’

April 15, 2018

xanto canceled my fishing trip

fish sticks and mac n cheese
and my teeth feel my tongue briefly.
a whiteout outside coming in old glass,
as white piles and tie-dyed weather radar go.
we say each word has a unique sound,
each language unique words… you read.
this weather is completely fucked.
watching whatever on some pirate Netflix.
shovel again, broken back again.
no one cares about dads and dudes nowadays.
notice: AI takes us through our phones already,
kills us by attrition.
Facebook steals our data but you still update your status.
time wasted, longer weekend inside.
and they forecasted this correctly,
fishing was canceled for me.
now i eat fish sticks and bells two hearted warmly,
all are fish related.
watch those stuck in the snow miming curses,
pushing cars thinking don’t spin
your tires that makes ice.
once was water where i would catch fish.

May 14, 2017

get away from it all (mn state parks)

Minnesota state parks do it for me,
like Prozac for some. And less
expensive, and less expensive counseling.
You know you always need to come back
to get better, to pay the doctor,
to make sure the pills are working…
For this i just need a sticker, it’s $25 dollars
and there are no commercials or brochures.
This is better: the ca-chunck of a cold can,
the wetted splash of a distant paddle,
waves calmly lapping my naked feet
in May waters of the St Croix.
here, i think Minnetonka moccasins
should be call Dominican Republic moccasins;
because that’s where they are made, really.
(please see the label for their local status.)
i found my sister’s pot-of-gold lure mimic’d,
twisted it on, threw it out: caught nothing
but a buzz and rocks and sun.
Line gone, line spun, line done.
Watched a lady smell pine sap
her dog lashed to a leash nigh,
she covertly hid her keys on her tire,
as we watched,
and she played Bob Dylan on a ukulele
before the slowly coming dusk.
i watched a child just hang in an ergo baby all day.
i saw the light cut through.
Drank liquids from an orange Nalgene.
Saw the reflection off brown current
cause camera obscura on some island bark,
made my pole dance and my eyes hurt too.
Still i got no fish… not even a bite.
Names cut to rock with metal or twig
in hearts to prove they love, maybe still.
More sap on the pine–i want a whiff too.
i’ll tell you something true.
Once, i wrote a good poem here for a class
that didn’t care. It was about killing bugs. Should have
read the other one comparing me to Picasso–it didn’t matter.
MN state park days are the best to get away.
my shoulders turned a shade of red
and they do label me a shade of white.
Been black and blue, purple, green and yellow too.
my mind thought about what the sign meant
as vessels drifted by, people yelling.
looking for their open sites, theirs.
neosavages, these: European, free, socially aware,
middle-class, their Prius’s and Subarus parked,
tents popped up, foraging in rented canoes,
life vests and manufactured paddles. Pointing like pioneers.
We are still too close to the city i suppose
And the DNR’s new 100 percent reserve policy
on all the good campsites
has them coming in intellectual droves
and this time they bring science not god,
(well at least some.)
Cutting out the day-tripper maybe-stayers in their prime!
Not sure what is worse…
How does a regular guy get away from it all anyway?

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.

May 8, 2016


there are certain times
evening embers
look so nice dying in
dusted fire rings

wanting to jump in
myself i think of
self immolation
& sometimes meaning
but there they glow

certain times are
soon to be ash

June 3, 2015

Moving Wood in West Lakeland

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

October 21, 2014

The North Shore

Drift wood lie on the ground bent
Fixed there in midday sun ease,
Exhausted on mind’s fickle intent
Hard resting, come at fast release

Visible footprints mark this stroll,
Paths we meet coming toward,
Gambling dice we take a roll
Wagering what value we can afford

Making way we wander ’round
Pleasantly procured- what sight we sought;
Relishing that which we have found,
Making play with thoughts wrought

Likewise we stand the surrounding wilderness we stare,
Taking inside us breath, becoming alive through fresh air.

August 26, 2014

Fishing near Lanesboro

Fishing near Lanesboro,

More beer than necessary,
one fish smoked, on a vast open field.

Spoken old-timers regale;
trials and tribulations in sar-ca-sm.

Late early last night,
Late morning faded blue-light.

fog that hung
on the fleeting dusk.

Lightening bugs
held within wind gusts.

Crept up slow
as sauntering drunks.

under low hung iron-bridge;
slicked mud and rocks.

Root River below,
life we fish, tied lures with knots.

March 25, 2013

Along the Mississippi (part 2)

Every moment serene, sitting perched on tree root, aside the mighty Mississippi.  The river at this stage is a docile and friendly companion.  The breeze is mightier, vast a complex, cold and harsh.  Sitting in contemplation, pleasant situation.  Pre-springtime life.

I can see hither the Western banks yet I cannot command the impasse on foot, rather by structure.  Nor do I stir; the quality of life in this sedentary placement has left me lazy and awestruck.  I spin my head what I can to take it all in; a beautiful sight, in a beautiful land, with nature, my friend.

Brown and dirt is omnipotent; the color of the bag in my hand and the bottle within it, the ground around and all that is found.


Birds, although sparsely fluttering, chirp in the distance and over shoulder.

Leaves moving alerting ears to a passing threat, forget that, just a passing threat.

Just the wind, we catch our breath.


The sun is mediocre-warm, although bright enough for shades.

My hard cider is cold but it warms.

A bell rings when a locomotive is pressing, a whistle, a Northstar train has passed.


I sit back as the water slowly slides south.



March 20, 2012

Hint: She likes Blue Cheese and I like the Weather

Half-ways decent at apology, living restricted to be completely free.

Weather changes the day; clouds roll in to turn reflecting eyes grey.

Not about to sigh over clear skies.

Not about to cry over spilt space and time.

Shield my face to conceal a hidden smile, gaze up at the sun rays while checking the dial and my mind.


12 noon, the day is half over.

12 noon, the day has just begun.


Close to burnt we all run to the shade.

Close to burnt but we never learn.

Whether we accept the weather we can’t neglect that we are affected by its presence.



Words of life:  at school to study not to pick up women most likely.

Hey, Buddy!

Hey, man.  Don’t even give him a second glance.

(I got enough friends)

Up the walk to the metal racks, here she comes to distract.

Lady walking in a dress, no stress, some class, much rest to avoid being depressed.


Guys, lames, buzzing like flies.

No wonder I got an ego.


Miss I know her, seen her naked.

Miss, I know what she is all about.

Its all good, sometimes you got to put shit on the shelf.


She is popping out all over like men after her scent.

She is bending down all over, the wind makes her hair a mess.

Time is being spent.


I can’t help but take notice.

I can’t help but smile and take the moment.

Closure, fuck it she needs atonement.  (she should/can get that from self)


I am not jealous, I have been there I can’t forget.

That’s why she keeps calling, text messages full, that’s why I can’t forget.

She asks me again, I say no.

A third time, not as charming.

I straddle the frame and push on, I got to go.

And press on.

Nothing too alarming.


*Surprised I can’t afford it.


Recessive genes, recessing in jeans underneath some trees.

She says cool beans, “cool beans“.

Like that.

Then she leaves

Again, as a distraction the attraction hits me well.

Light T and fit pants, slacking near train tracks in a heavy heat spell.


Put my book in my backpack and run.

Run home, run to safety, run to summer.

Run like hell.

And duck for cover under the covers.

It’s not even 3 am on the last weekend of the month and I can already see her phone number flashing on my cell.




Happily in state of solitude.

Would have gotten lewd or rude.

Instead we walked away and ended it with no blues.


We don’t talk to remain cool.

We don’t talk, just to remain cool.

I digress, but thought fondly of the fun we missed out on.

Let’s progress.