Category: poetry
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we lasted through winter.
i was sideways, asleep, or thought i was, between them, worried what if i would never feel this way again. morning just starting to peak. wouldn’t make its way through those blinds for a good bit, no use for the future. just an indication seeping in through kitchen windows. catastrophic gold. in love, two times…
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Further South Than Dakota.
didn’t matter the mileage; i had set my footsteps so far into South Dakota that even the Badlands bled away. nothing but circumference in the shape of parched surroundings, you live in a disc now, Lucky. blue skies with one raging eye, reminding me that water was a thing of the past, and the shirt…
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you were welcomed.
So you heard of a place called New Orleans. And you were welcomed. Free license to walk the streets, a thousand or so back pocket pamphlets. You helped yourself to the food, possibly undertipped. Complained while complimenting. Took the tours, some of you without any intention of learning. Spoke the word “plantation” with a wistful…
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at the gates.
sat myself outside. red steps. back against a closed door. cigarette. Jack Daniel’s. music still bumping, catching a row of bikes parked against the fairground fence. and what was on my mind… 6:25, here’s how the air feels on a perfect day, taste of a willow tree. sun at a lower level, some 71 degrees.…
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maytwentyeighteen.
standing at gulf’s edge, watching emerald waves roll in with the latest news, spread themselves at my feet, sediment for sandpipers, sun with an afternoon glare that sends cat paw clouds towards the horizon, where storms ring warning bells; still too far for thunder, replaced by the hungry reminder of jet engines, twin fighters that…
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caterwaul.
(originally published April, 2021) the caterpillars have come back, once again sporting such April fashion sense. first spring of Season 2. seemingly recent arrivals crawling along the catwalk with with all the determination of a a young upstart. single undulating inch draped with a fur coat of pale-yellow static. bright dandelion faces on a mission.…
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my friend.
i was sitting on a stranger’s futon, counting sheep, when one happened to wander from the fence. came on over and bummed a smoke. helped itself to some wine. bright white and so very cloudy. after an hour or so, i felt that talking to a sheep couldn’t be any more crazy than watching one…
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just like that.
Fires had been erupting all across the city. Not spreading, just then, though soon. Not being set, they said on the radio that afternoon, just happening. Not just buildings. Stretches of main streets, asphalt suddenly a logjam of burning red fabric; a circle of flames brought to life at Generation Ballpark, just left of center…
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you were welcomed.
So you heard of a place called New Orleans. And you were welcomed. Free license to walk the streets, a thousand or so back pocket pamphlets. You helped yourself to the food, possibly undertipped. Complained while complimenting. Took the tours, some of you without any intention of learning. Spoke the word “plantation” with a wistful…
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you had your year.
it’s not enough to revise any length of days or events in rewind. you were beating your head against the cemetery wall, and that was then, then now, and when an ecstatic snowfall of fireworks triggered the first smile felt in so long, that was then, then now, and if you think you can have…
notes from a never-was. 