Posts tagged ‘street’

August 11, 2017

What a deal/Minnehaha West 

The shouts of abuse

Heavy weed smoke

Wet walking steps

Dog’s bark & police sirens

Piqued me from

My book of the Essex

Here I go and stir 

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February 15, 2016

some ideas on a city block

feigned
surprise,
new regret
and
old ideas.

walking
sick
down
hennepin.

sure,
i’ve been
insane,
but
that brick

wall
wins against
a head
9 out
of 10
times.

sure,
i knew
your name
once,

but now
i’ve
seem to’ve
forgot.

October 27, 2015

That Sound from The Street

construction season
is over, it is no longer summer
yet still in the morning
a hum comes from the street,
a banging comes off of pipes,
beep-beep beeping of horns,
bells and whistles.
it starts sharp at early,
the streets are blocked say signs,
no one can park, and now
they almost shut off our gas;
we had to tell someone
because someone told us.
how do they fix things
this way, by digging hard
by going down and tearing up,
causing something new
to be half-assed covered,
a little bit more bumpy
something ugly?
i watch in the morning
from my three season’s porch,
i just stand there in the open
t-shirt and shorts,
wishing for warmer coffee,
asking for time off,
wanting a vacation with silence,
needing to make work
so i can construct my own
in old framework decor,
needing some sort of renovation.

March 21, 2015

Out of Dodge, 52 South to La Crescent

There are pieces to account for
while getting out of Dodge,
on a Friday eve, away from the city—
on the mind of those,

sat in an aged black truck on edgy burnt-out energy;
a person can purchase a mass of pink-violet
spectacle taking over western skies,

glorious sunset in tired eyes,
painting cloaked-clouds,
heavy dark, invoking peering pupils.

That giant burning orb,
light-years away,
is sinking into a foreland field,

browned is a Minnesota plain’s silhouette to come,
spotted with tail-lights
and oncoming forgotten brights;

before cars snaked out of the city
on veined webs of pavement,
onto highway 35,

which roller-coastered up and down,
thru and around,

wheels traversed crude potholes
and bad drivers—ones inciting rage,
to 52 South, to less ego.

And in the cockpit:
a cracked window,
a rear-view gaze,
changing bootlegged CDs,
and easy conversation.

The journey goes:
follow the lines to-,
follow the lights to-,
follow the signs to-,

each less visible moment passing,
each shadowed monument dusted;
stop here, stop there, no stops at all…
Make time.
Make tracks.
Make it back.

under shrouded moon above,
each sparsely laden gas station,
each pre-ghost town affixed—

to Rochester, by Rushford,
past Winona and Houston,
fast 73mph, thru Nodine—

establishments wax a dimly lit yellow,
down a long hill stretch to 14 61,

along hulks of vibrant-by-day bluffs,
past looming Lock and Dam No 7,

along the sounding Mississippi,
waters show streetlamps caught in the flow, luminescent,

and we go into town,
La Crescent, past the Hub
to Apple Village Liquors,
then to home.

There,
a warm room,
my smiling family,
and hugs await.

Pieces of what’s become
getting out of Dodge.

***

A good aspect of the city
can be getting out of it.

December 13, 2014

On the Corner of Washington and Oak St. SE (Finals Week)

Where snowmelt and papers
Coalesce in the street,
Tense busy-minded scholars
Move fast on their feet.