Posts tagged ‘real’

June 12, 2017

basement vinyl reflection

there is no need to worry
my passwords are foreign languages
the spider webs cocoon me and beams
old light and new light dance just there
a records spins and pictures stand
miserable hours ago though
there is no need to worry exactly
florescence from below, flowers grow
be bold, be bold, be own, old soul.
be alone, confluence with those.
just here skin and bones, skin and bones–all those
acting like they know but they dont
acting, just do it for the show, tho–
there is no need to worry
there is no need to hurry
and then i think about it some more
begin to sweat, begin to whittle
my fragile courage into tooth picks
sitting in a creaky chair and staring
on the floor at my feet in the dust
and the record spins and goes
more of me gone trying to find it too

May 13, 2017

he died doing what he loved

the day before my dad died
my grandma told me to call him,
she handed me the phone and i dialed.
he answered and asked me to visit him in Lanesboro.
per usual, of course i couldnt,
i was busy marrying my cousin
and her new husband,
i was to fish brook trout and hunt morel
at an expansive farm in Highland, MN.
he told me about how midget strippers
were from that area
and he told me he could fly me in a plane
back to the Cities on Sunday. and he could truly.
but i get sick on planes, ex: my whole life.
i would tell him that so he didnt feel bad.
i laughed, so did grandma–a-mid-dementia.
now the cat barfs on the windowsill in St Paul
and i cant move to clean it.
you read, he told me this story.
that was the last i knew of his soul.
now i want an old motorcycle and three kids,
i want a lot of land in the countryside
and to own my own business, sort of like him.
i want to tell rude stories and make people laugh.
all around me is this fabric to weave,
even that old dreaded piece of a phone call
i hide because it worries and bothers
and turns me 4 years younger, less jaded and
more naive. i see him leaving every day is a possibility.
i just wonder when he will come back.
and some believe in ghosts and gods and scripture,
i havent seen much in the way of poltergeists or apparitions;
the afterlife exists now in tongues and no more.
i only feel the ones i never knew
and could care less to just pass
and call my imagination gone astir
or drunken views taken in the timid darkness.
i heard he died doing what he loved a lot,
and when that happens they say it is good.

February 25, 2017

you go!

tear the plastic
off
the windows
to your life!

November 13, 2015

Bulimic Cannibal

A pain where
the cut came thru,
I was near
the sitting keyboard
at the desk,

reminding myself of social constraints,
my proxy to this place,

(I eat flesh.)

of the levity of my heavy chains,
the idea remains—

(Though I am invisible
and so easily described.

This is laughable.)

concepts to
contend or consent,

I can’t forget…
Though I try;

you see my given name,
my round face,
my old age,
my manifested gender,
my fast race,
and my American weight,

but not me—not what goes
in me or thru me.

(One can only guess.)

It’s something else that you see.
Let’s have lunch.

August 19, 2015

She Packs for The Train to Wisconsin

On such a late night sitting and full,
Contents of a stir-fry made of tofu;
She packs for Wisconsin: days away.
Still I sit & watch and wait & laze.

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.

February 23, 2015

bandwagon

I once met this “poet”,
He hadn’t written a single word—
It’s been years since then,
He bears the same rank and title.

January 23, 2015

Pages of the City

The city center has
Been filled with

Trash.

These spots to grab attention,
To make you buy: react.

Local rags remain,
Good at that, and intact.

Though,

What stands out is
The importance they lack.

We have books by the stack,
Micro-brewed beers,
Diverse weather,
And bike paths.

We have beaches
In the summer months to relax,
And theatres like
The Guthrie to see acts.

Local mags don’t really map that;
They attack,

-With photos, lists, and ads.

Painting a picture without paving a path,
They write on setting precedent, because they can’t.

***
I suppose one day I will be surprised when an article proves friendly to my eyes.
But only after realizing how much effort was put into marketing to my demographic.

December 23, 2014

Her Morning Alarm

Crickets wake me in the morning,
Even in the middle of white winter.

They chirp and buzz and shake
And vibrate and annoy and call-

Moments later my partner is slapping
Them hard to death, they die direct, -fast.

The next morning they come back to
Life as if nothing has happened at all.

May 19, 2014

How We Change (apocryphal)

Let slip ever gracious smile
Wearing guarded masked face
Traded out for something more
Fake laugh covers a spiteful distaste

What hangs under that brightly painted coat?
What meaning lies deep lined visage rote?
Opened eyes with cleared throat
Acutely minded, yet somehow remote

Someone once said
That someone once spoke
Now they don’t speak at all
Let those loose on thin lines fall

We can only change ourselves

Phased out- ostracized
Effectively unduly replaced
Not there,
AWOL in ways
Then they cut cantankerous chains…  (ostensibly)

Surprisingly,
We wonder why—
We care
We must say:
Who makes my day?
And am I okay?

We are all different from last week
Are you here, today?