Posts tagged ‘reality’

November 18, 2017

ghosts cannot kill

life after life
life after this coffee is gone, slipped out of its cup
computer screens bleeping, drama queens screaming
after a walk in the woods, after silence
thoughts of my father
pop up like mushrooms in spring,
me as a father now especially
as that one spire, strident, fixture in my life
once was, as afraid of the dark
as bumps in the night, he stands there
dead eyes, calming, voided, silhouette doorway
telling me the same thing he told me to make me feel safe:
a ghost has never killed anyone in the history of time,
no one has died from seeing a ghost,
and if i were going to die i would have done it by now
he told me that without exaggeration
i wonder are they real
or are they just gone when they are

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November 17, 2017

paths (something rich)

where do we all go?
where do we all start?
i walked on a bridge early this morning
frigid cold–blurred sluice
and through a hall, stuffy
the men smelled good
or their musk did, anyway, like money–
reminded me of the dead
reminded me of my dad
tried so hard to impress all, everyone
who is that though, really?
nothing can’t know
can’t know nothing, so…
a bridge that tells us how it is, how to feel
tries to teach us clearly
and then tells us to just believe
it’s like this and like that and so on
hypothetically, imagine a bumper sticker:
don’t question the moon landing,
don’t objectively view the coldest November
in the hottest year ever,
some ideas rooted in beliefs–religion,
exactly explaining concepts that aren’t laws
with fluid language changing, unindelible,
to match your mood, now, or movement, then,
i am voting for the perfect robot in 2020…
still very hard to tell
we all can’t be English majors or theorists
where we are all from, just looking
but where we are all going to some day
that’s something rich

November 12, 2017

sunday apex

Beautiful Sunday morning
dark AM morphing from
empty pews’ attrited time
to quiet hymns breathing sigh

October 26, 2017

Human nature theatre

The victor
The defeated
The excusist
The pen genius
The victim
The god
The king
Or the fool…
I prefer the butterfly
I prefer chaos
I prefer audience member
I prefer observation
Of it all
Just looking now
Needing a better view

October 23, 2017

Everyday social

Find your
Tranquil
State
In silly
Memes.

October 22, 2017

blanket dawn

layered orange crimson and green hue,
cut through rectangle windowframe view.
one sleepy town awakes in fogs and horns
to a night’s black fast escaping morn.

October 21, 2017

52 south in minnesota and some thoughts that i can’t escape like the blood on the highway and the lights up ahead

the dead deer leave their stains on 52 south
longer than the sun hangs in Oktober skies wide pale,
i hope to not create that sort of artwork tonight.
probably someone died in the accident at Coates.
glass, lights, backed up traffic and silence at the crossing.
entrails and scattered viscera, nature and force.
later, i hope this poem doesn’t take a dive on me.
matter and brain matter and matter matted.
where softly playing wind chimes alight and inflatable
Halloween decorations on the lawn greet us, hum.
barefoot in the street talking visas and books and
cars and presents, my mom’s birthday is this weekend.
above some star dies and the cemetery up the hill knows.
at least two beers on the couch, check in at motel home,
at least some pictures. my little man is awake past his bedtime.
teaching language in the morning, then they talk like me.
these strangers aren’t strange, they are nice.
wake in the morning. talk talk talk talk talk talk
talk talk talk talk talk talk. what’s the problem?
i know how she is when she is the way she is, love.
same costume as the last 5 years or so, goodwill find.
there is no surprise like there is no surprise.
an animal jumps in front of the dashboard, it’s a leaf.
there is not change there, no change there, there.
lock and dam no. 7 is an empty street where josh died.
dan will be at jules and wives will be in andere Staaten.
nextday i have coffee and talk to China and think
of the money that i don’t have and need to find somehow.
doesn’t matter, but that fucking deer is dead again now in my head again.

October 18, 2017

you go for it too, the end

our supposed sapience
this rabbit hole venture
grandeur, alluredly postured,
vested interest paying,
found wholly bound,
tied tight in pragmatic gestures,
molded, wired twill, just there. and not.
and the poses for those trite tripe elations
on adolescent medias ubiquitous,
for social aspirations, affirmation,
fleeting, vanishing in yesterday’s yesterday.
once a thought gone for
a thousand other good thoughts gone,
nothing to where i stand nowly.
these buildings were here, they saw too.
that bridge was here on Washington Ave.
this coffee hot was not.
Nor your laugh sharp, piercing…
your ideas are great, just imagine.
your politics are not his or hers or the self-appointed’s.
something like that.
something like this.
like the sheer wind cutting under blue hue.
stained words on paper.
hard text on a page.
a fortnight’s digested and expelled intentions.
will fill a box nicely one day.
morgues aren’t like in the television shows.
you will see it soon too.
then you won’t, verily.
and i just thought i would
tell you about it in this type.
because some day i can’t.

October 11, 2017

time machine me back to then so i can not offend and better off myself

how many candle lights do illuminate?
to the beard on my red face,
to the dark beer in my dry hand,
to the classical music on Google Home in my stung ears.
how many? we don’t hug anymore…
thoughts of non-gendered scouts and Forensic Files on tv…
that pod over there listens when i talk:
“OK GOOGLE, tell me a story i haven’t heard before.”
treat me the opposite of how you treat my poetry.
i ponder existence and sharp wits.
calling on the military personnel
to quell my disquiet violence,
the mannequins were disarming in the wax exhibit.
sell the quietude; there are many words and some pennies.
tell them you no likey,
speak in baby to me so i know we are truly friends.
here, sarcasm is part of the local dialect.
a week old and this beer is very smart,
and the beer is German like my name.
months old and my beard is a great disguise, hardly recognize…
but i am royalty from some German story,
some town named Worms near Frankfurt,
dragons lay slain at my feet a millennia ago or so.
my sword gleamed in this light–then, or something like that.
and no volunteerism today, 6 pm they abandoned me.
just coming home to meatballs and soup and stares
and eating and walking and talking awares, about
killing our debt together, i’ll cover the roof
with sniper prowess and fox logic.
wait for its head to pop out, pew, pew, pew…
the interest is what kills you in the end;
do you want to pay interest on cereal or coffee or whatever?
just give me some time now, thoughts.
i am doing what i should have done in the past.

October 1, 2017

our cat is a dreamer

my wife’s cat
is a dreamer,
every day at the back door
she waits to make her escape.
she’s not fixed and doesn’t have tags.
she’s a thrifty ad hoc anti-vaxxer.
motivated by nature and toms perhaps.
meowing and purring,
her only feline actions,
pawing at it, batting like the Twins near some threshold.
she needs to get out very soon, clearly.
sometimes with hands full
when we get home after a hard day’s work
she takes the open opportunity
to let loose timidly…
goddamn, stinky cat!!!
Get her, get her, get her… 
we will say, some chorus
no Clover! get back in, girl, get in there!
Get back in there, now!
we love her very much, like leftover pizza.
shoeing her in and shutting the door behind us.
she has some dreams–big ones, innate,
i tell you,
she goes for it every time, so fast.
true persistence, tenacity, super human.