Posts tagged ‘Perspective’

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.

September 17, 2016

Life of Bella, the Dog’s Perspective

outside sidewalk.
ruff!

other dogs OUT THERE!
ruff!

underneath
the maple trees.

***

what can i
put
in my mouth
and chew? ….

***
i smell something:
a sock.

maybe i’ll eat it
and shit it
out in the
backyard later…

get yelled at.

***

no. i’ll eat
this peanut butter

toast right here
on the table.

play with my toy.

November 3, 2015

constant reminder

i supposed
i’d rather listen
to the room’s
pipes bang,
& put the kettle
to the rang,
and have
a clear mind,
than think
about why
i woke up
late last night.
they say the
artist will
starve, but the
cat, and the
bills, and the
debt, and the
truck, and the human
food, and the rent,
all those things
are enough to do
you in. but
i’d rather not
think about that,
those things are
just moments,
and most things
do change.
seems i am
constantly
reminded when
noticing
the colors fade,
and the bare
nude trees,
and the cold
chill in
foreign winds of
new seasons.

September 23, 2015

whether weather

maybe rain
maybe sun,
maybe IDK
another day

September 10, 2015

alive

days i wake bolt upright
nothing but happy.

it is here in southeast
or la crosse, or la crescent,

or whittier, or uptown
or dublin, or Washington Ave

where no one alive
can take that away.

nothing but happy here,
just to hit that snooze.

August 10, 2015

untitled 10/08

The sound of white fan blades, nimble cat’s feet,
and heavy outside traffic
woke with the beeping alarm.

Monday life was on its way,
just before breakfast, shower and shave.

Pieces of inspiration fell off in stretches
and movements onto the wooden floor.

As a backdoor opened to musty wet rugs
and well watered plants,
at a place where occupants had been days away.

Coming to again as rebirth:
a second, a minute, a day, a week, a moment chance;
where we’d thought we’d be now is the past.

We were housed by such movements
of certain contraptions, waking, stirring, just as—
sounds and actions unplanned,

came over and overlapped.

August 4, 2015

Bridges of Northeast

Abandoned train bridges make for the best retreats,
Under empty blue skies which remain always there.
Cotton wood branches waved leaves as a busy fleet,
Fading summer months made all those about aware.

August 3, 2015

City Vantage

In varied ways
The city’s buildings stand;

Tall as they are, up with birds
And clouds,

Holding those lives
Seething, going, and watching
There inside.

Mazes put up for institutions,
Humans go about with same minds.

July 30, 2015

Walking the Stone Arch Bridge

Bridge, cut from sandstone
standing hard in the distance,
below thick electrical wires
& quick ascending planes,
where guts of our city’s downtown,
with its sharp-edged contrast
at one end, lie exposed,
under smoking black chimneys
four as die, & pink light skies
falling slowly to a cool dusk
in shadows of pillars, of rocks,
of trees, & of bridges north,
where people had ran, walked,
& captured photos, talking,
had so frequently happened.
The deep vein of a country
swept brown & debris below,
where near a dam you await.
Your heavy arch did not bend,
your dusty blocks did not crumble,
your purpose outlived its creator,
& still you met the citizens first,
on each side to let them pass.
Without question birds flew to you,
clouds dotted heavens & your flank,
& sounds bounced off of your make
from other ancient past-lives.
The Stone Arch stood fixed,
even in the pitchest darkness,
or when the layered homeless sat,
in faded orange lamplight glow,
or the late street walker came
on a hot summer evening drunk.
Up late to watch the metro night,
to make sure people made it back
over a fast Mississippi, so wide.

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.