Posts tagged ‘season’

November 1, 2017

… as the snow flies

i am good right here…
entranced by November snows
in gray hues, just outside,
changing my mind’s moments
like daylight savings.
each flake fat,
each ascent confused,
to wetted ground’s pools below.
good right here, right now–I. I…
waiting, watching through a film of plastic
and time and clime and ah… OK.
spastic motions, prison of chairs.
legs get stiff, what are feet for, again?
biding my time patient, that snow out there.
it’s coming down liberated and seasoned.
Reflecting somewhat jealous.
at some point i have to leave.

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October 23, 2016

delineate the fall, scene 1

mornings like these
leaves come crashing
through the limbs
of stiffening trees

where fat squirrels
bound like jack rabbits
in search of
something to call winter shelter

inside the silhouette paint
of an autumnal tie-dye day
thermometers point,
inside, they spin at change

what sound of cut silence
delineated by robins call
a bus, the 67 going by,
Pileated Woodpecker
and a “V” flown southeast

our house cat mows grass at
my pale naked feet,
on some cool broken sidewalk
merely rented–what to own?

entryway of flowery vine
as stairs coming alive
at this venture of fallen
dead photosynthesis–dry leaf dying

i imagine if it
thought to spark a moment
in the morning mind
of some drifter standing

i imagine it like
it was some actor being told
to “ACTION!” by
some muted invisible god
in the distance biding its time

(fall to the set)

April 27, 2016

spring once again, absent our others

o’ fecund smell of
dew so ubiquitous,
when spring
happens beyond
our door frames,

and light shines thru
as at grandma’s
on sunday afternoons
years ago routinely,

as was morning broken
in a few stained pews,
i thought hard about
god and death
and how it didn’t
really matter:

dad would have
felt the same, i know,
to ask him that question,
one day not like this,
one day never.

*

the sun shines different
moments ago
even though
it looks the same
as it did when our late
loved ones walked
this spinning globe.

now to imagine
the unimaginable
for it no longer exists;
now to see
a face that no
longer is. now we
take new-growth spring
absent our others.

January 3, 2016

(being lazy) all through the city

being lazy is my favorite thing to do.
i bike to West Photo to get 35mm film.
i drop money at the bank to pay rent.
i go on Nicollet to get fitted for a suit.
being lazy is great, as it pervades me.
i sit at The Local in downtown and talk.
i notice the bartender and server going.
i tell a joke & move thru tore up streets.
being lazy is my favorite thing to do.
i think i am doing this task so well.
i walk to magazine boxes placing art.
i write poems and prose and no one cares.
i think of how Monday there is change.
i think of how tonight is really tomorrow.
i meet local celebrities and have a chat.
i forget names and don’t mention it.
i get a discount for being a smartass.
i try not to find excuses for being me.
i try not to hear excuses for being you.
being lazy is my favorite thing to do.
i drink water instead of vodka bloodies.
i walk out on the ice and drink a beer.
i take photos of a sunset over trees.
i love the blue sky which lights me pale.
being lazy is my favorite thing to do.
being this lazy takes up so much time.

May 24, 2015

Touched by Sweetness

Having impregnated
a mind
of pulsating flowers;
touched by sweetness
they stir,
coming in
at full bloom.

April 13, 2015

Monday Anon Anew

Monday is a rebirth
of the past two days forgotten—
a new moment, a new mindset,
and a new chance.

Though,
we are the oldest
we’ve ever been
right now.

Still,
we are young as is,
as naïve,
as buds on tree branches sprout.

Soft eyes sore,
a window’s breeze of Spring must
through messed hair,
in sharp lights which have come on again
at the rotating of the earth.

Outside is exactly inviting warm.

Here we are,
here we prep,
here this Monday anon anew.

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.

October 28, 2014

Prelude to Winter

Leaves or Snow,
Bring Wet or Cold.
Clouds rolling in,
Skies set to spin.
We come inside;
Fast we run and hide.
Pleading with the weather;
To make things better.
Words fall on deaf ears-
As it would appear.
With hot tea moving on,
X’d calendars check what is gone.
Oh! these brisk autumn days,
Set out to make our ways.
Til the rains change
To frosty breaths which pain.

October 3, 2014

Seasonable Clock

Even the morning seems acutely somber
Broad clouded skies hold steady longer
Green leaves thick ripped from their place
Void departed relatives we save nigh space
Juxtapose this deep cutting- chilled contrast
Waiting for summer’s waning neb to fast pass
Vexed by cruel and unrelenting, stiff nature
Fool-heartedly with their lives they wager
On a single day we wish to stay the same
On forcible winds we wish to have changed
Man can live amongst this time and watch,
As he winds the seasonable swift ticking clock.

May 5, 2014

Pre-Game Summer (Mayday 2014)

Of early summer days, at the parade:

When late hands adorn grease and dirt,
Evidence produced of work and worth.

Beer stains on shirt-
What’s worse?

A face tight from sun bright;
Fried,
Sun-burnt,

Smile with deep lazy pride,
A good hurt.

Rode through
Commuting by
What exercise?
What a great time.

Things not done in winter,
Don’t think of that,

–Think of that.

Minnesotans had become bitter;
Different,
Now back.

In groups we relax.

Clear skies managed weather apropos for on-the-go.

Outside,
Midday,
Mayday,

Until night

With the cricket songs
And the crowds gone

We ride our way back,
And wake with the morning light.