Posts tagged ‘wind’

March 25, 2015

half made up

Half of my person,
my body,

my ghost, my own;

though you are outside in the

wind through bare trees blown—

near thoughts in the mind—full,
on edge a clear glass of water in

my saliva, in my throat,

as each word

from my mouth is spoke—

half of me yet all,
and gone, not long,

—as they go,

dissolve, a division in sight…

Happened, half-dead, I am froze;

all is night,

…and only half of something,

hair, eyes, flesh, hands, and plight.

The makeup of my life,

When I was younger sunlight seemed more bright.

Split now.


Wind chimes resound outside in the cold,
as you whisper this to my better half.

February 10, 2015

Grey Sky Day

Overcast clouds open to
A downfall of frozen crystals;

Which sparkle broken on the ground,
Under foot.

A straight wind carries me off – strong,
To far, to present, to past;

Grey sky day
Take me away.

Weather which is not to be overlooked.

December 16, 2014

a city shell (and individuals)

Fleeting acquaintance which grew like trash
As each fickle feigned word exchange passed,
Few thoughts ring true while coming through
Comprise this changing layered bunch of you.

April 3, 2013

This is for you April

I’ve known better from the beginning.


For years winter season has been collecting all of my trimmings.

Dirty socks, ragged leather boots, gloves worn through, and the truth shown proof.

My face is peeling and red, desert like to the touch, touched by the northern winds, sound beneath feet- a frozen crunch.


Inside semi-radiant heat, outside steam lifts from under the streets.


Living in Minnesota and having a beachside state of mind.

Shut in, wasting time, looking outside becoming snow-blind.


The thin line between losing and winning: spring and summer living for temperatures dipping.


Taking out the linings, lugubrious bundles thinning.


Consciously confused, asking questions, about the weather we mention.

Looks of doubt, where are you from, from what rock did you just crawl out?


I’ve been excited before, but I’m not excited anymore.

Seasons change, but sometimes not fast enough.


Forgiving you for giving me misgivings- that’s in the past, that’s last season living.


Again, wake up to deceitful blue skies and a lying sun.

February 28, 2013


I see you are clearly starting to plant your ubiquitous presence in my heavens.


Art and Stone alone block the outside view of Winter.  Wind blows on an old building.  Places we’ve been together: with you-us two.


My shirt says, Snow Shoe Brew, My feet are Boots.


We used to kick the ground around this town.

Used to live to love, looking above at the stars.


Nothing has changed.

Watching cars and buses from afar.


Forgetting the days, planning our ways.  In the future-wish again, what have we missed my friend?

Not much.  Not how.  We have Now.


Again, old fashioned statement of life’s placement.

I think as we walk, kiss, and say goodbye.


She goes away like she first said “Hi” and walked into my life.

September 10, 2012

The Difference in Change

You’ve got to think, when you’ve given it all and there is nothing more to give…  Did you enjoy the way you lived?



Feet planted in this section of the planet trying to save nerve while managing habits.


Getting better at throwing empty beer bottles in the trash can, playing Mario Kart and not coming in last man.

That’s the difference from my original arrival; that’s the difference between death and  survival, what I know.


What do we know about denial?


Tribal; making sure shit isn’t hollow.


Banging head against the wall to hear a thud.

Found a stud, prepared point for penetration, chair fixed on a rug.


Paint-chip displacement.


Hammer in hand, nail pinched between two thumbs and pain.


We wallow in the distance.

We cherish the gifted.

We ride trains.


We bury all the mistresses with broken dishes in a riverbed to get washed away with the rain…


Super-smart head.


(All friends gathered in laughter thereafter.)


Enlisting all of the children while taking away their wishes.


Hopefully investigating a past tense situation.

Hopefully still studying after graduation, and not in procrastination.


The sun wakes me through a window in this building.

Her body is in Madison-so, this morning is chilling.

Killing time; drinking wine to unwind.


Falling behind as we fall to our knees; cards aligned.

Lack of greed, sit at ease.

Hands clasped in lap listening to the breeze in the trees.


Leave for a moment.

For a moment only, then I shake my head and fall back to earth.




Early to rise gets the prize; taking time to change the tides.

All for good or bad, is all the same.  Taking something away from the daily exchange.


August 7, 2012

Grandma Knew Better

My life as a poet as I know it, is over for the moment.


You don’t bend things, they break.

You don’t date things, unless you want them to stay.

Otherwise you might have to say go away.


A spent condom fashioned precariously in a trash bin is becoming rancid.

It sits in the corner, HELLO!


I wonder what it would all look like in a mansion.

All these actions

-Reminds me of how I get around.


I wonder why they wonder how I do it?

Its very hard to explain, we have different brains.

We drive in different lanes.



I ask them how they are poor, broken, and asking questions.

No one answers, they all walk away.


Little Me(s) evaporate and die as I sigh.

Only a sheet of highly efficient latex’s placement saves my existence on this pavement.

I think of the house and the large ivory pillars.


I stand slouched-thinking, moderately strung out from blinking.

Can they write like this(?) -right(,) like this:    <—–Here.


You don’t mind things that don’t matter, after it all, after the laughter.

Sadness plastered on faces, and then a clown walks in to throw them off.

Doesn’t it make you gladder?


Effectively the Sun reigns, so we bring sunscreen to protect from the sun-rays.

Eventually the Son reigns, so…


About the snow; we wear extra clothes to cover our noses from being frozen.


Ask the Floridian, he doesn’t have the slightest.

Of the former they may feel closer to closure.

Of the farmer on the border of cash crop or flip flop, off to the city.




Big fucking lights.

Big fucking deal.


Then its over.




Laughing to a spilt bladder, found a place.

Southside, well Whittier, I am not writing it on a slate, either way it translates.


Sick of the television bickering, and myself not picking through pages; my books are left with dog ears and wanting to play, getting through it in many different stages, on different days.

Not sick any more though, there is a remedy for me, for us, for all.


Like a grenade to my face, like a beer, like a bee, like a sting.

Not misplaced.

Mickey’s, got to love the taste, and its CHEAP!


Ready to fight?



Sitting in the grass with the community.  Watching a movie and relating truly-

Out of smokes, living longer.

Out of beer, better mornings.

Out of food, I go to church on Monday nights.


Out of money, nothing to complain about.


They have too much and they worry too little.

(about the trivial)

Fretting on the couch, in a nice house.


In response to the poor they are whores of vanity.

In response to power they are a sad sight to see.

In response to friends they have none, no response.

In response to a gun, they surrender, later they run.


They take all but they have lost nothing.

Maybe even gained something in the process.

An understanding, a piece of mind.



We sit, we think, we drink, we think, water from the kitchen sink, we think, we contemplate again.

I don’t know, but it flows down the drain like thoughts in the brain, yet we can’t write it down…

Oh, whatever.


Not wearing a frown because I can’t think of a negative.

This isn’t math class, you dunce.

And in any case there really are only positives.



When we are on the brink and we head back.

Going backwards-Needed and not needed.

Taking it all in right after.

Forgotten later, the latter.

Everything that matters: everything.  


We want it to stay and it goes away.

We say go away and there is delay.

Do we ever get what we want?  And if we do is it what we want?


Good riddance.

What’s the difference?

We are all gifted, its what we live with.

Nothing around you is dead yet.


I am wrong…


About my Grandma:


I still see the sky lit up on the horizon at dusk.  I still think of her touch, and it still does matter.  She would say:  TERRY SCOTT!  I would chase after.  She would smoke and drink coffee and play cards.  She never brought anyone down, if I remember correct she was happy, always.  She was the best person in my life and she left in 2008.  All the same, she is here today.  She has white-blond hair, baby blue eyes (like me), and an infectious smile.  She is remembered, as the good things are.  We forget all of the things we malign and dislike for a banal existence.  They have placement in our lives, but they don’t mean all that much.  Things like this matter.

Everything happens for a reason, and its all the same in the rain.

No disdain, not insane, slightly like self we remain.

Yet mostly changed.

Dark clouds atop the hill make me smile.  Strong winds bring back memories as they touch me with slight pressure and fly away.  I imagine her soul does the same.

I will always be in the country and feel her presence.  Like the city hides that, it brings her back even more.

Where is Chicago?

Even when I am alone I am not alone.

There is no saddest when we think of the ones we once had, and always will have.  Who come back in small instances of everyday life, in astonishment.  We recollect.


She was never down, coffee and cigarettes remind me of her.

She was the best card player I ever knew.

She loved snoopy and bingo and her family.


And I was this close to playing one last card game with her…

Then the phone call.

I ate mediocre potato salad for a week in the cold of my apartment, which had no heat.


She always beat me in war.

And it was snowing in early October.