Posts tagged ‘T.S. Eliot’

February 24, 2018

a million pieces in my head from the 1990s, in summer and winter and with my family

one time, in wintertime,
my dad flew his ultralight plane
to about a 1,000 feet above La Crescent.
he was over blue lake at the time,
at which point
he dropped an old bowling ball,
straight down from the blue heavens.
it hit mature ice and shattered
into a million splintered jet-black diamonds.
its inception played out in reverse on mute.
in summertime, over Wildcat Landing he did the
same stunt with a Santa and a parachute.
i wonder about physics and propellers.
i wonder about moments and momentum.
i suppose he was creating novle myth here locally,
reprising antiqued beliefs,
taking awesome to new inspiring heights.
and now the dust settles on one-of-a-kind.
i suppose, or not. i don’t know.
i guess i sometimes remember these things
and wonder where those new inconoclasts reside.
too many sycophants to being glib modern Spectacle.
maybe he was just raising hell in the 90s,
being like he wanted to be, naturally,
high up in the wind, free.
no politics had a hand in it.
no opinions that were unreal.

August 29, 2014

Minneapolis, The Production.

Filched every best part of art,
of everything.
Singing in the rain
as if a poignant destiny.

Blessings of death
and the mounting of enemies,
over the stone arch bridge
on two rims,
bubbles and scum,
Mississippi muddy brown waters below.

Then we eat, sleep, drink, and move on.

Tattoos and body piercings
Ostentatious Restaurants.
Underground Hip-Hop
and Poetry- the life, so long…

A million extras with a million extra lines; you see the conundrum.
Oh, the Cheeky Bastard.

A problem with me,
something rude.


Transcendentalists and progressives, pass aggressive.
Just listen to those intellectuals. (How Special)

Bowel movements
have caused more pain
with more tact and significance,
more movement,
yet, who knows the difference?

Faces are wearing half-hearted pleas of forgiveness, wholly realistic.
– Yellow toothed Grimace.

– Some greyed with fluoride.

– Dentists to witness.

On a real morning
in the real rain
with real useless thoughts,
another really real day.

Overcast above skinny jeans,
mind over matter,
beer filled bladder.

-What we’ve gained.
Promising to keep promises
Walking home just to kick dirt
Flat-tire again- spare me your words.

Unable to afford trivial debate; I stand at a deficit.

Nicollet downtown slicked squares
cut from somwheres- elsewheres.

Reading books to stay relevant;
vintage classics, or course,
Conversations alone,
clean-cut brilliance, absurd.

Excuse me Mr. Artist, can you paint a picture?
Can you write a song?
Any tune, with any rhyme.
Can you sell millions upon millions?
Hopes and dreams, divine.
Can you deal with the adoring throngs- fanfare, that is…

Kids beat drums on the streets,
attempt at viral video,
as the beggar creates a compelling story (wife, child, car, broken, needs, hospital)
Let me give a little-

I spend time at the liquor store too.

Questions: Do I invest in this practice?
Or do I keep ignoring?
Investigate the occasion,
I mean, I guess, I live in poverty too…

No snow on the sidewalk,
just shoes.
Heat index and sweat,
rugged, as it proves.

No ice- or melting with salt under foot,
hanging cigarette ash on stiff upper lip.

Pedestrians that give real looks
External cost magazine crooks.

Signs in downtown read: affluence, success, money.
Neon lights of red, yellow, green, blue and orange,
They sparkle and shimmer in cold and warm,
even in the daylight morn, bikers, buses, taxis, sparkle adorn.

Then the director yells: CUT!!!
And the lights go dim on the set of Minneapolis.

August 4, 2014

Fond Memories

Stand in a pale room funeral home.
Dim yellow dances striped walls.
Close fake ferns and fresh-cut flowers.
Not into gleamed opaque casket.
My father sits, near his stepfather lay.
A soda can rests on stained wooden edge.
Here bright reflections of unnatural dye.
We have to pick him up, so heavy- and out.
Grab hand on cold pallbearer’s hold.
Navy Cadillac hearse backs to still box.
Pull with strained arms, struggle to balance.
Measure more densely than expected, hot day.
Hung-over and dried out, stiff- filled chemicals.
We get in the van and head to the American Legion.


Family and a buffet line inside
We sit close and speak soft
A pastor comes up to talk
He says he is with god
I go and get seconds
Completely lost

My grandmother does not understand.

July 27, 2014

Things just concern me

Vote for Logic,
put Robots in Office.
Mandatory polygraph tests
for candidates assuming the role…
Don’t fret though,
I’m partial.

They say ‘follow the leader’,
and ‘to each their own’,
in unison,
broken record on dusty gramophone-that old.

Tupac and train-bridges,
Como and El-P,
at the corner market,
buy fluids then flee.

Child yet full-grown.
Can’t say won’t.

Rationality and realism postponed
… For gold,
by cold souls,
hard-truths thrown like stones,
you know.

One asks questions;
starts trouble,
causes problems,
the ground rumbles,
and is labeled
Fast as on the double.

Then you forfeit all.
No more missed calls.

C’est la vie
“That’s Life”

Caught between wrong and right
and day and night;
and delight and plight.

I digress.

My friend,
I’m all right (spelled right).

Things just concern me.

April 30, 2014

The whole world in 105 lines (amongst peers)

The whole world in 105 lines (amongst peers):

Here’s a start:
We all have Minds
We all have Hearts

We all have Eyes
Contemplation of kinds
Histories and Pasts,
That we forget


Moments we haven’t

That of what
Of which
We can reflect:

Before, Now, Happenstance,
And Present Tense–

I said it in less.

Let’s not digress
There’s more to life
Than what’s defined
Even in 105 lines

Even if you were to try,

However, at least you did

I promise-

The whole world is like this.


The only person stopping you from doing anything is yourself.

September 1, 1939, By W. H. Auden.

April 18, 2014

Oh God

We should be less concerned with God
And more concerned with Heart Disease

The latter has taken more from me than- God knows.

Anyway, anyone can buy a one way ticket to him with a simple diagnosis;
However, we are more fearful of the “devil” and “ghosts”.

These two things do not exist.
Things that do exist: birth, names, and death;

Let me explain:

A pill is forgotten
She is two weeks late
A child is born
Hard familiar debate

His name is: “Jesus Christ”
He sounds so nice,

Like Billy Pilgrim
Like Marla Singer
Like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern
Like Of Men and Mice (or vice versa)

Headache appeal
Only apropos

As the “Second coming of the Lord”

Righteous abolishment of abortion
In attempts at fruition
Bacon on the back burner
To slow the heart murmurs

For exacting stitches

They used to say the cart before the horse
Now, they designate fiction for logic and reason.



We have seen family members pass on,
We have never seen the devil

Why wouldn’t a person make an empirically objective observation?
–we’ve heard stories,
One can tell.

April 15, 2014

“The Apple Capital”

This town
Under bluffs of a river valley

Ancient trees
Fixed in rich dirt of sediment

Through the
Sandstone foundation of long forgotten
Specters under the sky
Incarnation of this “American Dream”

Their progeny haunt
Past the dying brilliance
Of traditional affairs

–The audacity of Business
From the land
Of which they do not own
–the view
That warns
The conscious being

A vast distance between states
Two, as splendid
Establishment in the new frontier
Dust to flesh

Once whited maps
Growing with pride
Now what it stood for is merely a novelty

January 15, 2014

Something we won’t see, or Late Winter Warmth

Something we won’t see, or Late Winter Warmth,


A Winter Libretto:


A reverse-coned icicle hangs dripping

Stalactites warm on the outside; frozen solid within.


Bringing a liquid heartbeat sound below-


Drip, beat, drip

Drip, beat, drip


Until gravity plucks this fragile form





Crashing- it to the red brick ground.


Broken to bits, transparent

Pieces scattered about

No shape of the passing account.


Clear chemical solid cubes now.


Lying there broken


With these, no resemblance he could find to the picture in his mind

He looked to the sky to spy another sharp point growing in time.