Posts tagged ‘seasons’

December 6, 2016

i need a snow-blower

holy fuckin’ shit.
there is no safe way to shovel snow,
there is no way to save your back.
you are feeling it in bed,
and when you stand up,
and when you slip slightly on early ice
making your way to the bus.
you know now there is no safe way to shovel the snow.
even with a bag of salt,
even with a new metal blade,
there is still ice and hard piles– no way.
been expressed as heart attack snow, no joke too.
this stuff is really real,
and it’s just the beginning of a season;
one star in a universe of stars;
virgin weather for old minds,
more to come, more on the horizon.
each snowflake is another chance to die,
now that is something special.
each pull of the shovel,
bend of the back, heave of the chest,
that’s another instance where it could be over.

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September 18, 2016

La Crescent Haiku #1

Fog of deep valley
drifts away from verdant bluffs.
Small town soul revealed.

August 15, 2016

Hope.

i woke up
learned,
tired of some sleep,
ready for fall,
August flowers
hanging off
a 1920’s
wooden mantel,
waiting for
new weather,
tasting fresh
coffee,
hoping for
brilliance
in commutes,
friendships,
ideals,
and openness
in modern
minds where
they won’t
find it.
i beg of travel
and good health,
the way
family used to
years before
all the funerals
started
to happen.
i need
better ghosts
to let me know
they exist,
and i need
better
doctors to
tell me
i’m sick.
something,
something
about hope.

April 5, 2016

We Are (some time)

We are. In this between warm bellies
and harsh alarms, a shower cat

and parked cars, possible rain and clear stars.
We are. But we had to leave it to find the latter.

We are. Each morning jazz and traffic alerts,
running until our back hurts. We are.

There were charged phones and computer
screens, lights showing the props between.

We are. Just another day in all of its many ways.
We are. I wonder if they could even notice?

We are. The wind through trees blowing.
We are. See the time steadfastly going.

We are.
We are.

October 16, 2015

Right (T)here

All is well when the lights are on.
I know someone is in.
The office is not empty.
I know something, anything is happening.

The outside world glows a peach aura.
A warm mason jar of coffee is held in my hand.
I note the orange chasing
up over a distant horizon.

We drive in listening to MPR news.
Cold is below trees in crossed arms
and a longing for warmth.
Shaking as it settles to the bone.

The fields are not frosted crystals yet.
How morning is manipulated from lush summer
to autumn colors to bleak black in white.
In months this will seem a dream.

The end is near and those involved understand.
Nuclear power chimneys back the brick façade.
This entire campus is a tragic set.
With impromptu scenes between.

Maples come nude welcoming along the walk.
I step through a waiting room maze.
My key goes in at the elevator’s threshold,
head bumps to the door.

Inside rows of lights cast down
to shine a mute tile floor;
Here was wood and leather,
keyboards and desktop screens.

And then I heard what was for me.
Comfort in words: it will come…
Just give it time.
As everything else, patience and fate.

Ah, the answer is there, as usual.
It’s right in front of me.
And the lights were on.
They were waiting inside the same.

September 23, 2015

whether weather

maybe rain
maybe sun,
maybe IDK
another day

September 21, 2015

september sleep

hard sleep in my eyes
queues the end credits

waking to an apartment
gathering dusted clutter

days seem growing longer
as light slips slow away

the cold goes to my bones
crawling in, just deeper

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.

May 24, 2015

Touched by Sweetness

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

May 14, 2015

Have Your Day

The day you have
is of your design.