Posts tagged ‘themes’

July 10, 2015

Do We Ever Actually Sleep?

Entering new worlds to escape another
I woke up from a dream in a lonely bed.
Real life sat next to it on the nightstand,
in the early stretches, in “slept like a rock”
preparation for what’s to come. Today
was like any other, though different—shall
we double: it is shit and it is great. I would
cite Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, but
they are dead. I would cite Anton Chigurh,
but he is nowhere to be found. “They are.
It is.” Those statements defining the
day, the morning, the thrown pillows, drool
stained, and crumpled blankets with their cat
hair, are your shell, your cocoon exited.
They rest there, waiting for another moment
to bring adventure, where you fall into the
fold and escape this life to REM, to where
monsters and mistresses await, where gold
and garbage stay; past loved ones welcoming
you in boats, and in jest. That to this, this
to that. Don’t become unwrapped for awoken
reality hits full on hard. There fellow man
meets to never actually meet. We relate,
but never truly. Reaching for the water on
the dusty dresser top, cat at my feet, shades
drawn, another day to walk to the kitchen,
open the fridge, to make breakfast, marks
and tracks, to make me. I enter this world
from another. I wonder, do we ever actually
sleep? And then I wake from this dream.

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May 27, 2015

New Danger: Water Balloons and Squirt Guns

Nowadays water balloons and squirt guns
are considered dangerous weapons.

Oddities which can get you tackled to the ground, cuffed,
and thrown into the back of a police cruiser.

It’s kind of funny.

I remember being younger, maybe 8 or so,
and having all-out wars with other kids
at Wildcat Landing near Brownsville, MN.

No one won, there were no casualties.

We would be throwing water balloons
and squirting each other with Super Soakers,
these dangerous weapons.

Their biggest offense was they wasted water.

To get it in the eye would sometimes start tears,
someone would inevitably run to Ma.

The midday sun was usually high,
the smell of sand and the chopping Mississippi
would be in the unbroken air.

Adults drank domestic beers and listened to classic rock.

We were just kids back then, with colorful toys.

Later on as a child, I remember my dad once shot his rifle
in the sky above a plainclothes officer
in our driveway at 1045 Bush Valley Rd.

The agent told us to get all of our guns/weapons.

I went inside and found my squirt guns
and brought them out.

The officer said with surprise, “Not those, son.”
He didn’t take my guns,
back then they were harmless.

He let me go, slap on the wrist.

Nowadays you can get arrested for that kind of stuff.

The shit we got away with,
man we were bad.