Posts tagged ‘short prose’

September 9, 2015

opportunity:

you can
be yourself

like
no one else.

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August 27, 2015

The Minnesota State Fair

Be
Fair.

August 13, 2015

metro flood (thru it all)

and I slip into the deluge of everyday life
to pull myself out where I so choose.

July 14, 2015

Journey

Here,
not there,
you are—

look how
you’ve come,
so far.

July 1, 2015

Everything

Everywhere I go
and everyone I know
are parts of me
and the places between,
from summer sun,
to winter snow;
from the top of bluffs
to the valleys below,
they are carried with me
as everything I know.
They are parts of me,
parts of a whole.

June 22, 2015

St. Anthony Waste

Sour leather bands synched
in a veiled humidity,
swam this Midwestern oven,
doggy paddle for fluid strokes.
Rolled windows on St. Anthony
caught a trash truck soup
of faintly fanned aroma sweet
under parted clouds;
cloy cutting, putrid, pungent,
unforgettably at the tip of your tongue,
in the holes of your nose.
Fumes came from plastic bags ripped
and cardboard boxes smashed
telling of domestic unimagineables,
making way to the forefront,
aggressively introduced,
and not leaving soon.
Remnants pressing,
pushing through the city;
parts of me, parts of you—
the powers of summer heat sparked
a sickening knotted perfume,
lingering in the air,
in these communities tight knit.

June 11, 2015

you look like you got some sun

One of my favorite phrases to hear on Monday is,
“Oh, you got a bit of sun over the weekend…”
The idea of going outside and sitting in the sun
without buildings, without work, without people,
without being stuck in-doors, without a thing to do,
without being paraded around like a fool at a party,
without the constraints of what society deems correct:
you should wear sunscreen, you should cover up!
you should avoid a sunburn—it will cause cancer!
I have to assume that people die of accidents daily.
You should avoid cigarettes, and expensive scotch,
and domestic beers, and fishing, and jerking off,
and relaxing for no reason, and not doing anything,
and cooking raw red meat, and frying fillets of fish,
and reading a book, or two, and driving an old truck,
and thinking about sexual fantasies, or debauchery.
Yeah, you should probably avoid all of those fun things,
and while you’re at it, make sure to hide from the sun.
Nah. I want to say, “You didn’t get any sun at all?
That’s great, I am sorry to hear you are a shut-in.”
But rather to save some time, I just say, “Yeah.”

June 3, 2015

Moving Wood in West Lakeland

Wood laid in a pile,
brought down in the days before;
years of life soon ash.

May 28, 2015

Warhol

The gallery
of
unmade artwork
in your head
will
be forever closed
on the advent
of
your death.

May 24, 2015

Touched by Sweetness

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