Posts tagged ‘wisconsin’

October 22, 2017

blanket dawn

layered orange crimson and green hue,
cut through rectangle windowframe view.
one sleepy town awakes in fogs and horns
to a night’s black fast escaping morn.

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November 21, 2016

who lost 42- 24 last night and won’t win the Superbowl ever again?

today, Monday, will be
a little more quiet,
a little more
average,
a little more silence,
only because
those fans
of the Green Bay Packers
will be walking
in immense sorrow,
moping in their green
and gold regalia.
Today, i probably won’t
hear about the Vikings’
losing record,
or (maybe) how
we have never won
a Superbowl.
Because yesterday we won.
But now, that doesn’t
matter, those
cheeseheads roll tears,
their symbol, that
which attracts mice,
were simply defeated by
Washington, and “the wind”,
i guess any excuse,
i’ll give it to you.
your silence today.

December 26, 2015

Fat and Bloated

Now is when I feel fat & bloated. I want
to juice cleanse and run and move and not sit
and not eat. Mario Kart seems an appropriate
lecture; people yell and scream at a tv screen.

I witness this while others are starving,
while watching A Christmas Story. Sometimes
I want to shoot my eye out. The flow of this
media is like red velvet-lined handcuffs.

Some die with their hands up on a couch.
The world is cruel. Loved ones are spoken of
at the bar. They died a few warm years back.
Peppermint drinks come in coffee mugs and

in-laws come with drunken cheer, my pants
come taut and Facebook blows up with new
engagements. I wonder if they really know.
Some give support and get it. Others don’t.

Respect comes in consumerism and what
you can bring them, and I still worry about
my weight. My youngest sister tells me I
am skinny. Jesus is on the computer screen.

The bar life in downtown is docile, a perfect
place to feel heavy and finish a $7 pitcher
of Spotted Cow; I feel better already. Growing
farther apart, and bigger, and older, and more

prone to upset all those around me. At least
I feel fat and good being myself. And some
start, and others pick winless battles. Now,
what a great time to feel fat and bloated.

August 19, 2015

She Packs for The Train to Wisconsin

On such a late night sitting and full,
Contents of a stir-fry made of tofu;
She packs for Wisconsin: days away.
Still I sit & watch and wait & laze.

July 5, 2015

Riverside for the Fourth

How interesting that fireworks now bring us together
when they represent devices that once tore us apart.

-Terry Scott Niebeling

***

here, 10pm, crowds on spread tarps and chairs,
thoughtfully placed earlier,
chatted along a spilt-over sidewalk path,
coming down to the Riverside fest grounds
with family and friends;
these goers were just stepping through, at a time.

taking air along the luminescence of the waters’ edge
waiting for fire, explosions, light and smoke,
waiting for a show of power
on the concussion boom’s holiday eve
of a hot summer day.

notice the faint ghost outline of the Cass st. bridge,
it went up tall toward the south on wet glow,
pale blue in orange light as navigational lights
sent from boats bounced to and fro below signaling.

where mayflies flew, stunk, buzzed;
their fate kept them at lamps
busy for their annual dance.

people in groups—no worse,
buttoned up, oohing and aaaahing,
taking such a spectacle.

for a time
the mass was all American,
for a time nothing else mattered.

viewing were homeless and rich
in the same theatre vantage;
spirits were aloft as this year’s sparkling
in gunpowder and smoke,
the thought that everything was all right,
illuminated on another shore—
in a time of celebration, in a nation
under a spangled flag.

June 23, 2015

Fixed Mesh

Barefooted feet sounded aloud the carpeted hallway,
Where people passed in sunlight of a side window view;
Forms drew on, each bearing a different meaning—each,
New reason passed by, as all parts came meshed true.

May 2, 2015

Between Wisconsin and Minnesota, an evening interstate

Here I sit, fast going on an evening interstate drive,
as all the world is turned an end-day blur.

The convertible top was dropped
as the dripping moon strutted in high heavens
to flash each blemish loved,
outline each scar deep, detailed,
a desirable waning pale—the color of a tooth ache.

Cheese curd grease and fish guts lingered in the broad smiles
of each captured moment, of each phone in hand.

Hair in the air, messed,
as familiar ghosts styled each malleable strand,
I wonder if they could smell the product on their hands.

Blue Lake came rippled shining,
bending slight the reflection of dusk’s
passing azule.

Comforting speeds blew ears quiet,
as the Chrysler’s engine hummed
at a stoplight break, loved ones in tow.

The car went as we waved to neighbors
and backyard exhibitionists.

There was a police car and prom.
There were city fires burning.
There was a quiet green village turning dark.

I am JFK,
I am in horn-rimmed luxury,
vantage,
I am sitting,
surrounded by everything that I am.

I am first world problems burdened
—too full to starve, too apathetic to cry.

An extended stomach,
a dented head,
beer burps,
and you were in Mexico playing,
as the world passed on.

February 22, 2015

No Frac, No Question

When our drinking waters have been set aflame,
and we’ve destroyed our pristine rolling bluffs;
the people of the Coulee Region will be ashamed,
while the mining corporations won’t have enough.

*

No frac,
No question.

December 25, 2014

Unpacking the Snow

First alarms sounded of a white snowy morning. Heavy and wet, flakes covered the ground as those in the river were covered by water, never to come home again. Fast late last year turns to right now present; and years, and sorted experience before. It came out like a pocket knife to test, to screw, to cut once, deep. It was the kind sharpened to a fine edge. Dead bones rested below, and in the back of one’s mind. People came and went; flesh loosened, darkened, slackened, and dusted with age back to dirt. Blades of toy windmills caught the grey air, while leaves fell zigzag to the browned December ground. We just ran by. Air brakes of a semi sounded off far on a distant highway, for those who traveled about the countryside, between the bluffs, near the riverbed; all to hear, all to unite in this one thought, some time, some date, in one mind. Ubiquitous green trees once loomed watching over this tiny town, Apple Capital, providing breath, under thick blankets of sepia cloud; brisk and cool in winter light, it moved through valleys touching rock, touching sand, touching faces, creating must and dew, on bark, and Fall’s fodder, on all who caught a glimpse. Each little speck floated soundless, seeming endlessly to the darkened pavement, as eyes took to more than they could unpack.

October 19, 2014

The Mississippi River in La Crosse

I recall the smell of fish from the brown water
And white caps rising high—
Brown, dirty… undulating—
Ducks stood in speckled sands,
Trash mixed rock…
And a cloud passes overhead
Casting a new shadow;
Ducks waddle under the dock,
Disappear
And below they quack.
And I see boats
Moving across the River,
And waves,
And I see that water
Has been moving past.

***
Inspired by Frank Herbert’s Dune: (source: Unbroken Thread): One of Gurney Halleck’s Tone Poems for Sad Times