Posts tagged ‘weather’

December 4, 2016

snow day weekend

to salt
the drive,
and sidewalk,
the 67 bus stop,
there is some
old ladies’ and
then mine.
after
pushing
that
not-
heart-attack
pack,
the fluffy
white stuff,
nothing
like it;
the melt
snow, –salt,
the to snow
melt, –salt,
surprise.
this morning
one more
chore
to do…
one more
thing
to find
a meaningful
something
while
breaking your
back
because.

September 18, 2016

La Crescent Haiku #1

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

August 31, 2016

a storm’s protest

where thunder bolted
honey combs

crawled across our
northern region

pulling trees & dust

making dead-man’s
steeples

along its straight way

low-pressure seiche

antiquated scripture

people jumped on fords
while blue and jet matters

a breath of fresh air
no one can breathe

seiche and fetch
fo’c’sle tides

the edmund fitzgerald

a storm went
a storm stayed

a storm cried
more, more, more

and the weather didn’t think
this is all it could do

it just did what
it had to, it happened.

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.

July 20, 2016

mn heat

oppressive mn heat
a starch blanket
save for weighted winds
strip me hot naked

some dry desert nigh
inside for a time
sun blinding eyes
higher in the skies

and what ac wets me
nothing for going out
lights waver glowing
powering at a rout

still,

wager for winter
wager for reprieve
betting on instinct
hoping it to leave

and at least not death valley,
dumpsters swelter in the alleys.

March 14, 2016

outside of the window

Out there,
beyond
split shades,
beyond
dusted glass,
beyond
stairs, fodder,
rocks, and uncared
for plants, a
twilight precipitation
beckons from
standing vehicles,
shining street
lamps of the
new day calling,
go out
and find.

February 13, 2016

Selective Modern Movements

Rather
than
relate
we
separate.

Rather
Than
inspire
we
hate.

Walking
down
a
street
in Northeast

a
man
said,
“…It’s
Too
Cold
to stand!”

He
uttered
this
and
ran
in front of me.

I
wondered
what
about
belief.

I
wondered
how
cold
it
had
to
be

to
run
from
a
belief

I
stand
so
closely
with.

Then
I
wondered
about
silly
fantastical
movements

right
and wrong
and
objective
truths.

No shit.

February 3, 2016

The Groundhog Day Blizzard

was stuck inside an office
checking local news for
hourly traffic reports and
telling the folks to go home
hopefully before five.

It was natural driving a truck,
and where does one exert so
much energy walking places,
and when else is everything
in view majestic as fuck?

I commend the bus drivers
and bike delivery workers
just out there doing their jobs,
just out there commuting, so
that others don’t have to.

More, were the processions
of landlords clearing paths,
and motorized snow removal
machines doing a dance;
how slick ways faired.

It really is like this no place
else, a bleak sheet filtered
the sight of once open walks
roads and schoolyard parks
muted and muffled by white.

Just the thought of it,
this is why we live here.

January 27, 2016

Driving to Work

in the mornings
before i drove
to work
i used to
listen to the
traffic report
on the radio
and laugh.

i had this idea
that it didn’t
effect me,
that i was
so far above
this kind
of busy commute.

now it does.
in my capsule
i sit, watching
attentive, close,
as i never
wanted to.

i drive with
conviction, i go
at each turn.
i know what it
is like to worry,
to be considered
a shark.

biking was never
this way, it was
i who needed
to watch over
my shoulder;
now i must see
and assess
everything.

i must do the
impossible,
i must be constant,
aware, and
one hundred
percent,
always.

a bus would
be nice,
biking in winter
now isn’t
realistic,
the truck is
what i have
to go to,
this luxury.

the radio tells
it straight,
“side roads
are slow and go…”
i used to laugh,
now i sweat;
i used to cry,
now i mumble.

the pleasure of driving,
and they don’t
even attempt at
calling
the stress.

the pleasure
is all of
mine.

January 20, 2016

“Culprit: Snow” -On The Radio

We learn fast, as seasonal
delay strikes + the bitter
cold becomes bitter cold,
that even an inch of white
matters, even Minnesotans
can’t handle these roads.