#1179 haiku: yama-who?

avoiding line-up
awkward chopsticks clapping to ease
drink, dessert... relax

#1178 of bones and hearts

i'm still fractured from the fall
when your stuttered sputtered october words
left me waiting for terminal velocity
now choosing socks and eating breakfast is a chore
i'm still fractured from the fall
the worst part is, you were right
but burst deflated my biggest truth balloon
so now i lay on the floor
still attached to the string that once kept me from flying into the blue
just lay here
fractured

Computer broken. Will post sporadically until its fixed.

#1177 november 1st, dawn

she is an angel
sleeping half on sidewalk, half on a stranger's lawn
she imbibed in the bottle
hence this fall from heaven
wet toilet paper and an empty bottle
this world overwhelmed her
and she tried to escape
for a while it worked
laughing and dancing and childlike
next year, she should dress as a lady of the night
to make the scene congruous
but she'll still be an angel
an angel i've known since spelling tests were a weekly part of our lives

#1176 weekdays

if only there were a poem that spoke of my love for you
it would be volumes long and three words short
if only there were a poem that spoke of my love for you
it would be in my handwriting on a napkin, and in perfect print on thick cardstock
if only there were a poem that spoke of my love for you
it would be full of full-stops and commas and colons and semi-colons; and free of punctuation
if only there were a poem that spoke of my love for you
it would fill every inch of space and breate with the white space of the empty page
it would yell from skyscraper tops and whisper between pillows
it would be raw as sharkbait and powerful as gator jaws
if only there were a poem that spoke of my love for you
if only, but there's not
so you sit ahead of me monday to friday
unaware of my cowardice
unaware of my love

#1175 320 Series

green and yellow coming up the hill
today's projects, yesterday's memories
only something this old could run this long
and "nothing runs" like this one
i'd trade you five new ones
to keep this one
and all the memories stored on the rear platform

#1174 how many stories

how many storeys
asks the real estate agent
mrs. williams thinks for a moment
thinks about her children
her late husband
births and deaths
tears and smiles
birthdays and holidays
bad days and sad days
millions
she wants to say but all that comes out is
two... two stories

#1173 green

my childhood is a forest filled with big trees that used to be saplings
big happy trees
and blooming flowers
and every hue of green
trails of mystery that never scare
a story hidden around every treed bend
my childhood is a forest filled with happiness that used to be the everyday

#1172 a guevara fan

last night 150000 revolutions spun around above my head
the noise was slight
unlike the impact
then, this morning
with the flick of a switch
revolutions finished
and the air was still

#1170 on having my license for 19 years

they used to fascinate me
waaaarrm-cool-warm
now they feel everyday
i pass under without noticing
the miracle
the wonder
the other-worldliness
this is nothing to be passed over
yet
that's exactlt what it is

#1171 table of contents

if i carried mine around
if they saw my earlier chapters
then they could understand
why apples and peanut butter
like oxeye daisies
make me happy then sad
and why baby carrots just make me sad
given a quick overview
they could decide whether they wanted to read me
i am an unfinished book
just begun my thirty-fifth chapter
i have an ending in my outline but
for me
outlines and actual endings never match up

#1169 dread

i preserve words in mason jars
for winter days when i will welcome their warmth
i pack them in sentences and paragraphs
seal them with two-piece lids
set them high on basement shelves
these times of wealth and smiles will end
and words will see me through

#1168 in memorium

a tree
just a tree
symmetrial-ish
but imperfect
no distinguishing features though
just a tree
but so much more to me
roots of memories of what could have been
leaves that die
but come alive again
a tree
life
growth
the things i waste my life wishing for

#1167 letter from student to teachers

you're failing me, by passing me
each time i hand in less-than-mediocre work
i get mediocre marks
what does 70% even mean anymore
in a world where 50 is the new 30
if at graduation, more than half the class gets "special recognition"
is it special? is it even recognition?
your 60% insults me
it should say 40
i can handle failure
especially if it's mine and i earn it
because of these inflated marks i distrust:
you, the school system, adults, authority
stop failing me, and start failing me

#1166 childhood is a blink

a lost childhood motorcycle dinky toy
rusts in a childhood field
forgotten like the feel on teeth biting a popsicle
as life's ride speeds to breakneck speed
and we accept as ordinary
like frogs in slow-boiling water

#1165 rusted golf clubs

litter our lives
abandoned extravagence
my possessions
the "wants" outnumber the "needs" more than 99:1
the more wants i collect, the more i need
something's wrong...
we know what the problem is....
something that couldn't be more fixable:
us

#1164 dj papa

i was cool once
no really, i swear
i had expensive jeans that fit just right
knew what people talked about
had opinions on the latest in-nest lyrics

i was cool once
no really, i swear
then came that little fellow over there
now my jeans are stained with tutti-frutti
and i talk more babble than english
except for books that make my eyes heavy at bedtime

i was cool once
no really, i swear

and cool is overrated

#1163 writing wrongs

a mean word in kindergarten
a stolen dollar at age 10
an ignored friend in junior high
an inconsiderate break-up around grad
a superiority complex in university

#1162 on the chopping block

you pick the one
the oldest, the biggest, the toughest
and you use her
you abuse her
leaving scars and cuts that with time
turn into character

you bathe her imaginary feet
in bark and slivers
she is there
   every time
   years
and you never say thank you

#1161 the language tree

words fall, leaves from the language tree
sometimes i stand, letting their letters bristle by my cheeks
sometimes i scramble, catching words by bunches in my shirt-front
sometimes i sit, choosing them for specificity
today i watch
amazed
at how how words, by themselves, mean little
but add and gain meaning when beside others
then i am ready
i set down my words
freeing my hands

#1160 bay street, 12:24

the man's well-chosen shoes speed along the concrete in confident rhythm
in a city of millions, he feels like a king
leading with a tie he might never wear again
followed by a belly big enough to show wealth
tight enough to show the gym's battle against business dinners
accumulate, accumulate, accumulate
is that the goal
when does it stop

#1159 a sunny outlook

with her umbrella under-arm
she says she believes in the power of positive thining
i believe in positive thinking too
but i still carry an umbrella sometimes too
i've learned to see the joy in rainfall
and i am learning to see the miracle in a raindrop
positive thinking is not getting what you want by a snap of fingers
positive thinking is having a clear vision of what you want
while having the ability to be joyful in the times other things show up
or when what you wanted shows up in unexpected ways

#1158 making up

tell him "sorry"
then wake up your tired bed one last time
y' both are a concert by someone overdue for retirement
playing yawning gigs to pay overdue bills
tell him "sorry"
then wake up the bed one last time
the sheets, the pillows, the springs
remind him of what once was, what could have been
then pack the bed on your back
dig out your tacklebox and a food sack
go fishin for new dreams
don't you dare look back
just tell him "sorry" one last time
then leave him feeling all the connotations and denotations in the word

#1157 invisible bruises

these invisible bruises
hold pain that no one recognizes
no one credits
and hurt more often
because people bump it more often
unable to see what they'd avoid
and the bruisee
wavers between victim
and self-doubt
the pain is real
if only the bruise were visible

#1156 george's rabbit

hug you until you break
pet your head until you bleed
i've never had anything to love before
and so you carry it all
28 years of love

#1155 woken. spurred.

I was a horse. a sleeping horse. i did not know i was sleeping because, i was sleeping. then life kicked me. slammed her spurred heels into my flanks. not once but twice. first my left flank. i was gauging the depth of my gash, the smell of blood had not yet travelled to my nostrils. the words, "Life, why do you kick me with your spur?" not yet translated from pain to word, when she struck my right flank. before i was ready, life kicked me afresh.

But the second time, Life did not kick my wind out of me. all my wind was snorted out from the first kick. my wind was just about to be pulled back into me. i could not speak. yet i learned a new language. a language that had words my old language did not, letting me be more understood.

I learned. i learned Life's spurs are strong, and sharp, and random. but i also learned that Risk... is worth the risk. today, i always risk. i choose my risk, but i risk. always. every day. obstacles which scared me in my foal years, are commonplace in my stallion/gelding years. obstacles that scare me now, are signs. sale-signs marking discounts in bins containing good deals on tack, like Life-Lessons, Growth, and Strength.

Thank you, Life, for kicking me. for i was a sleeping horse. now i stand. woken. spurred. speaking truths in my new tongue, spoken word.

#1154 lyrics

haunting, guttural, black
but there is hope
never stated, but present
this river is dark
empty of colour and life
still there is hope
guilt, honesty, raw
but still
there is hope

#1153 eraser tears

hail hollers from my tin roof
someone above has seen inside me
angry at my ugliness
blue is eased from the sky
leaving a once white canvas
filled with grey and black eraser marks
light does not hide behind clouds
light is gone
the mastepiece is gone
leaving an insult to the canvas that preceded the masterpiece
today, poetry is useless repentence
for atrocities committed
victims watched
moments ignored
opportunities decayed

#1152 embers

lighting a match to logs
does not work
we think it does
because we see it work
an illusion

before the match
were tinder
twigs
kindling
decision making
big and small

the simpler the success seems
the more work preceded it

#1151

enjoy this
the future is good
but when you get there
you'll wish you enjoyed now more
ask the girl
dump the chump
do it all

#1150 home in clouds and culverts

home is a cloud in the desert
the wind in a vacuum
the wal-mart greeter on another planet
we understand the words
but their sense sits like six snakes on the head of a flagpole
home is not a place, nor people, nor a feeling
the definition of home is slipperier
slipperier than an eel in a culvert

#1149 relatively speaking

family is a relative thing
and relatives are a family thing
a tree's stability
depends on its roots
just like any member of a family tree
traditions are passed on through generations
as generations pass on
and i pass
from one family to another
a member of both

#1148 lace secrets

lace garments that no one sees
and a smile that hides a black cloud bigger than the sky
everyone loves her
and no one knows her
she only feels known at night
alone by herself
in her lace garments that no one sees

#1147 under water

water drips and runs and poors
from the once happy ceiling
to the basement floor
pots overflow, forgotten
the only daylight visible
is grey
flat grey
i sit on the depressed stairs
anxious
too tired to cry

#1146 letter to the camp counsellor

no one calls you child anymore
but "adult" seems phony
early twenty, late teen
you find yourself in between
deciding where to go with school and life
this summer you will work every job imaginable
nurse and doctor, mechanic, psychologist, singer, athlete
yet you will be paid next to nothing
but here's the cool thing
you'll meet so many more uncategorizables
who choose to do something not for the pay
but for what they can give and take away

#1145 stuck

fire and desire
are done
yesterday's relics
tomorrow's dreams
fire and desire
i miss you

#1144 stop the bleeding

anti-bullying
what is that sounds like bully-bullying
bullying prevention
that's more politically correct
means the same thing
a bit more cya though
most, maybe all of us, are mean at times
why
we feel small
or tired
or incompetent
let's focus on finding things for people to excel
arts
sports
communtiy programs
all the places we make our cuts

#1143 the doorstep

a welcome sign on the beast's front doorstep
invites my feet to wipe themselves clean
the doorknob forces my hand to open it
then i must enter
creaky modern floorboards greet me
and i feel at home

#1142 drummers and dreamers

the drummer sits at the back of the stage
rocking out in his own world
unaware of his own solos
his eyes are looking at something not of this plain
his shirt is wet with sweat
his mind is muted with music
he's not there for glory
he's there for the drums
and the state of being they provide
after the show he is buzzed or exhausted
like a dreamer waking from the dream

#1141definitely infinitely

creation can be impressive
art, design, music, scientific invention, poetry
but sharing your creation
changes the world
forever ripples in an endless ocean

the best poem never shared
changes the poet
and i suppose changes the world through coincidence too
the poet is distracted while thinking about writing the poem
the poet misses supper while writing the poem, et cetera

but to share
to have people hear your poem, see your painting, use your invention
their lives are changed
which changes the lives around them
exponents to the exponents to the exponents
the power of exponents
forever ripples in an endless ocean

i'm not talking fame
a potential by-product
but effect
a powerful effect which is healthiest when chased responsibility

your idea, shared, will change worlds forever
and even if the construction itself is lost, burnt, victim to decay
the effect
forever ripples in an endless ocean
and forever
is a long time

#1140 you're pink and i'm blue

the carnival's in town
taste the cotton candy
smell the 4-H barn
hear the spinning wheel cl-cl-cl-cl-cl
cl-
click
click
clicking

i sit on a bench
staring at two rides
the ferris wheel
the same one since i was a kid
and the fancy new spinning one
where all the kids and college students line up
i stare at the two rides, thinking of us

i am the ferris wheel
classic at best, boring at worst
with a predictable small thrill

you are the cool ride
SO fun
and everyone wants to see you
you are the attraction
people visit me when the line-up to see you is too long
and we go together
like carnivals and cotton candy

#1139 sin

the sheriff stopped at starbucks
    playing our game, and asking my name

the sheriff is my shadow
    riding his train and singing my refrain
the sheriff is my confessional box
    offering penance for the sin i'm in
the sheriff is my country pond
    demanding reflection, introspection, resurrection
the sheriff is my hat
   on my mind all the time

i thumbtack a poster to the starbuck board
telling him my name
hoping he ends our game
telling him my name
hoping he ends our little game

#1138 time and place

two wrongs rarely make a right
but two rights make a backwards
a return
to all that was behind us
so if we kept walking
would we walk back to childhood
to playing in pot-and-pan cupboards
to hiding in closets
to picking petals to learn about love
take two rights to right
all that you left behind

#1137 afternoons take shape

triangle octopuses fill the liquid sky
with speckles of reality clarified by darkness
night and day have beautiful babies
when they forget their afternoons together
on the smalll-town bridge
by the neighbour's lumberjack

#1136 after school

i walk up the hill to your house after school
but you are not home
your family is there and they are busy
but you are not home
where are you
i checked under all the beds and behind all the doors
where are you
this is not a joke
people say you died
are you in your coffin
did you float up with the shifting clouds
did you just disappear
where are you
i miss the convenience and the ease and the support
of you
where are you

#1135 bat on mailbaox

i feel
like breaking beer bottles
like
doing donuts in the soccer field
like
not remembering what happens tonight
i feel like drowning concern with a full tank of gas
like
letting the world try to keep up with my tonight
like
finding an unknown at the bottom of a bottle
but i won't
too much pain
never enough release

#1134 teen brother's bedroom

posters of rebellious rock stars cover the walls
and pictures from magazines that try to sell the allure of risk
dirtbikes, skateboards, fast cars
loud music yells at the world
demanding self-importance and listening ears
quality second to volume
for volume is life
volume is proof of existence
quality is more often ignored

#1133 sound hole

my guitar's got three broken strings
and the remainder are out of tune
so it protects a few square inches of basement floor from dust
the frets are faded
the melody
ran away with two years ago
with another old guitar
one with a better sound

#1132 choo-choooo

look out mama
there's a train coming straight down the tracks
get up mama
the train does not look friendly
it's not stopping, get up
get up mama
why are you sleeping on the tracks mama
why am i watching
get up mama, get up

#1131 the forester and the schoolteacher

my grammie was a schoolteacher, when they were called schoolteachers
my mum loved her mum, and i love mine
my grampie worked in the woods, when they were plenty
before nature deficit disorder
she kept her pencil sharp, and he his saw
they had so little and shared so much
a country house, a family, simplicity
he played hours of solitaire a day, but enjoyed it more when she was in the room
his mind went with her body, and the rest of them met up when the time came
i don't know where they are now
i hope it's not a pristine castle
or a cloud-filled bliss
i imagine a garden, a swing, solitaire
and disagreements over cigarettes and too much salt
that's the heaven i hope for

#1130 mountain ash

we walk our favourite trail
mental interpretive signs line the sides with dandelions
picnics, laughs, arguments
the day's temperature agrees with my decision to make this hike
sweat and tears mix, indistinguishable
at the top, i rest
remembering
before leaving you behind

#1129 o

a concert room full of humans sits
enthralled
hypnotized
effort, performance, skill
all unite into a perfection onstage
even those not enjoying their lives
enjoy tonight
in the end
the fans stand in ovation
like they do for mediocre bands

#1128 roots

my umbilical chord was clipped almost 13,000 days ago
yet my naval remains
i am still a son and always will be
yet now i am a husband
yes, the tree grows
but so do the roots

#1127 shaken

when she
visited the hardware store
she was banned
by the manager-on-duty
but banned only from the paint section
manager-on-duty felt banning her was his duty because
upon hearing the poet's voice paint pictures, that they couldn't even dream of,
all the paints in the hardware store turned green green green, with envy

on stage
her dedication to the moment is so, soul-bogglingly brilliant
her pace-changes give gods orgasms
her simplicity is a reminder to humans of what
"being human" could mean
reminds me that rainbows are as magic now as they were before science explained them

her words and the voice that speak them leave me,
walking away with music between my ears
no
leave me walking away hearing the music between my ears
for the notes and the melody were always here
i just forgot how to listen

she reminds me of childhood solutions like that
kind words and hugs
honesty and bravery
daydreaming and stargazing
will paint the world
any shade of beautiful

a stranger posted the poet's poem on facebook
and i felt like... like "Liking" it was wrong
so i built a button that read, "the world needs to hear this voice and these words"
and another reading, "if you believe in humanity, click here"
and a final one reading, "if you don't believe in humanity, you need to click here"


her words
her words
her words
are the paint-shaker
in the hardware store
in the paint section from which she is banned
and my world
my way of seeing
my life
are the paint can she
sh-sh-sh-shakes
molecularly mixing me
preparing me
mentoring me
to paint the world
     my shade of beautiful

#1126 ad vice

because great minds don't think alike
they think for themselves

because those who say what goes up must come down
they haven't thought of age

because stairs are meant to be taken two at a time
and they are all meant to be enjoyed

because when we have a tough time
we need to forget bad role models and remember good ones

poetry cartoon

#1125 open mic

she wasn't sexy until she sang
then i was done
i was her puppy, her pillow, and her houseplant
if she asked me
she sang to an audience by singing in, to herself
she left her soul on the stool and i followed her to the bar
not because i'm brave
but because i had to
can i get you a drink
she answered without the confidence she must have left in the host's guitar,
sure... umm, an orange juice?
a surprise answer that would have turned me off 10 minutes ago
but the voice, that voice on the stage
had changed reality
where were once question marks, now were periods
after her drink, she made an excuse to leave
i've been back five tuesdays straight since
and haven't seen her ponytail
until tonight
until now

#1124 "crying's not for me"

with simple heavy piano music in his head he kneels backward on the couch, gaze lost in one raindrop
driving crookedly toward the window's bottom
one raindrop on a day of more than millions
but he is in the one raindrop
his life to now, his grins, his sobs
his all
he feels himself sliding, down the window pane exterior
held together on a molecular level
and at the bottom, he joins the other rain
no longer the one drop he was

#1123 hearts

in gambling and in relationships
people say hit me
only the gamblers are gambling though
the others are playing safe
the gamblers have a chance at income
the others have a guaranteed outcome
the odd gambler wins against the house
abused are guaranteed to lose
the house always wins
the home always loses

#1122 objects in mirror

remember when the grass field, was a forest
when a room full of adults, was a jungle of legs
when mail was exciting
what happened to that boy
how would he judge you
where is he now
who is this being you have become
go, drink from a book
go, find a colouring book
go
come back when i am patient

#1121 lion's tooth

the grass lawn looks natural, easy
but took weeks of grimy fingernails and tired backs
the happy dandelion choked and suffocated
their straight roots strong as bailer twine
and holds onto the earth
like a toddler to their favourite toy
but, like all good work
the sweat is vanished
the work invisible
and the grass lawn looks natural, easy

#1120 sharp

he smiles at the world
a smile rimmed with anger
she thinks she can fix him
paint over the anger

too bad
no one ever told her
not to catch a falling knife

#1119 sewed to my sleeve

we had trouble before
now, our relationship seems... fragile
i'm wondering when you'll fail next
you're wondering why my demands are so high
i thought we were only one third through our trip together
now i wonder, if we're further along than i thought
if the trip is shorter

#1118 today's forecast

i forget
i forget that her home life is a daily tornado
sometimes she's caught in the eye and thrown, bruised and broken
sometimes she sits unscathed
i forget
i forget that restful sleep is her tropical vacation
a luxury item
her emotional bank account can't afford
i forget
life for her is the existence of a tsunami
being present is dangerous

she sits
silent
back row
in another world
and she is a miracle
that she has survived
that she sits
a slow drifting cloud

#1117 tall person to short person

i be long, you be long
let's belong together

i look down at all the other boys
but the other boys think i look down on them

i like 5-foot boys
but kissing them is a 2-way awkward

i be long, you be long
let's belong together


i be long, you be long
let's belong together

#1116 fade to yellow

make my invisible bruises visible
let the world know the hell that is my home
the lonesomeness that is my life

let the thoughts that coincide with the 6 o'clock news
and the doubt that travels with kind words
let these blood vessels break and be seen by the eyes of others

let the names he calls me
show purple
and the self-thoughts
show red
make these bruises turn visible
      so they may fade to yellow

#1115 mulch

Minds rust and rot through lack of use

     like lawnmowers hibernating

The grass they once conquered

     now conquers them

We fib to ourselves about our place in nature’s matrix

     and the fibs rust and rot our selves

#1114 five dollar tip for a beer

he mistakes karma
for tipping hot servers
and ensuring they see
he thinks the right clothes
make the man right
his soul is a trans-am passing on a double-line
and we molded him

#1113 pedaling nowhere

my back on my bed, my feet on the slanted wall
i ponder think thoughts thought a millions of time by millions of other teens
escaping from the fear of being just another being
as my ears turn vibrations into music
i slide my feet down, alternating, repeating
pedaling an an upside-down imaginary bicycle
yesterday still special
because they are so few

#1112 i still see pink and blue cotton candy in fairway mud

i saw him with another woman
i sat on the carousel
they stood in the chip-truck line

i gripped a pole that grew out of fiberglass mane
the first round was just a physical closeness
the second circle, a flirtatious laugh
      two-way
the third time, a furtive glance and a holding of hands

shooting up, sinking down
spinning spinning, round and round
recorded marching band music drags
i see the cotton candy in the puddle by their feet

the ride slows, stops
i step off
he is there to greet me
the same smile as ever

#1111 i want to be a superhero

a man in the crowd
not in the front, or in the middle, or at the edge
just a man, somewhere in the crowd
shouts
say something new, say something true


so i
leave my safe poem in its safe folder at my safe feet and i
stick my finger down my soul to
puke up something with potatoes and meat

something new, something true..?
alright

i wanna be a new-age superhero
one who
fights mysogyny and brings out the man in men
a superhero
quintessential masculine
but takes off the mask now and then

a superhero who stops playground bullies and says
look inside
a hero who stands between two men, 2am, outside a bar
helping them see how stupid they are
that win or lose
they're choosing to be losing

a superhero who helps men understand that he who farthest sticks out his chest
is rarely if, ever the best

one who fights everyday crime
like at the peelers, catching men sticking their family's bills down g-strings for thrills
and saying to them
this is someone's daughter

or to the man who empties himself into his cleanest laundry
three seconds of feeling full, for a day full of feeling empty
that girl grinding on the internet
is someone's daughter
she's got issues
that will never be fixed by your, misused tissues

i want to be a superhero
super
hero
two big small words
i want to
put myself to the test
to
make testosterone a good word again
to
know when silence is louder than lecture
to
know the muscles do not the man make
i want to be a superhero
to
all the boys in my life
for
all the girls in my life
i want to be a superhero
i want to be a superhero


that man in the crowd
arms folded
he smiles, nods

#1110 my catholic upbringing

makes me
   look for meaning in suffering
   feel big guilt over tiny lies
   torture myself to feel good
   speak in bed to an invisible being
   listen to my silent voice

#1109 the mess

the same messes surround me
the same books
the same dishes
the same clothes
all waiting to be returned to their rightful home
with one difference
this time i lack the motivation to rise from this couch
some might tell me to 'fake it till i make it'
that 'depression is just a state of mind'
but the weight of the world keeps me here
all the dark news stories
and all my own failures
each adding pounds to my shoulders
equaling a weight that will not register on the scale under the bathroom sink
but a weight that these shoulders cannot hold

#1108 aortic valves

the crowd will be there and i will be ready
with my voice full of lava and gravel and rock-steady
delivering them a gift
from my being not from the page
direct to their ears from a simple, transformed stage
they leave the building changed
brains and blood-pumping organs rearranged
leave them dreaming and rhyme-scheming
Eh-Eh!
Beat-Beat
Eh-Eh!
Beat-Beat

#1107 my dog, my teacher

i sit in my home

worth more than some people make in a lifetime

tired 

of surfing on a net that has us all trapped

i don't even know if the sun is visiting today

and at my feet lies the dog

staring at ninety-nine cent tennis ball

with pleading eyes and a hopeful tail

#1106 too many ingredients

square trees and rectangle eyes
unnatural, but hard not to consume
we begin consuming the unnatural for silly reasons
jealousy   novelty   publicity
we continue
habit and greed but not for need

#1105 fifteen candles

a world
more mature
    adult
       dangerous
like an older brother's stereo

small things
take on
    big
       meanings

we watch
passive participants, acting

we sit in the excitement around us
unable to stand the events around us

then we go home
pretend nothing happened
until we escape to our beds
replaying the movie in our changed heads

#1104 rocking out in solitude

distortion precedes sense
followed by a drum
delivering you to your mother's doorstep
hypnotizing you
before deep-massaging your being with opening lyrics
so broad
so precise
a song whose closing notes make you hope
no song follows
only silence can follow noise that right

#1103 every bad girl deserves an eric

will he still on me for fretting
i thought that was all under the bridge by now
will he barre me from playing
will he mock my long neck
or will he slide his fingers along my neck
and help me tune out this world

#1102 a list of 7

1
you and i... so different
share love so equal
2
so different
sharing such strong principles: family, nature, the necessity of childhood wonder
3
the hundreds, thousands
of reasons we should not have lasted
4
you love white turkey meat
i prefer dark
5
you, social master and infamous chatter; you, the ever-moving ever-buzzing hummingbird
understand me
6
how you know what i'm feeling, with clues
so few and subtle
7
how we, speaking different languages, enjoy full conversations
without words

#1101 night travel

halfway to 68
i've seen a fraction of my country
and none of the world
sometimes the night takes me places i don't want to go
places of an inner space
black corners and derelict basements
breeding grounds for horror

#1100 sundown

the cold comes hard
when the sun slides behind the mountain
leaving you with breezy sunburn
sandals and a thin t-shirt

sometimes
warm days turn cold fast
followed by dark
chills

#1099 "vivian"

how many times did he cry and shout and anger his way through his lyrics before he mastered them in this controlled unknown version
how many drunk ignorant admiring audience members did he ignore and block out before he held the feelings in his guitar pick

you made her proud
you're not done
but she's proud
she's proud

#1098 pick up the dogshit

hey
ever complained about something and done nothing about it
ever said that something needed to be organized, but didn't organize it
ever complained about what your town, doesn't do
this is our time
between that tic and the next toc
this is our time
as the digital number fades and before the next one is generated
this is our time
as the last grain of cheap sand falls through the plastic hourglass knowing it will be among the first to fall in a minute when it is flipped
initiate the introduction
ask the question
pick up the chip bag
or
wait for someone else to do the right thing instead
maybe they will
or
maybe
they will wait too
and the litterbug will win
and your park will keep the scar that is a chip bag
or
maybe
they will complain about how much tax she pays and that the city-worker
should pick it up
or
maybe
you
will pick it up

#1097 framed

then
she was his picture frame
limiting, containing, restricting

now
 she is his picture frame
highlighting, improving, cooperating
her colour, her texture, her lines
highlight the best in him
bringing out him more than he ever did on his own

#1096 separating the reds

frightened mouths
surround dismantled washing machines
childhood games turn dangerous in august
big fingers do little to reassure
everyday noises grow torturous
just as torturous noises turn to everyday

#1095 notes on music

they call it live music
because it helps your soul feel alive

one man and six strings
maybe a mouth harp too
he sings
and, for two hours
your problems fall off the side of the earth

one foot-stomping band
an accordion and a banjo, loud fun lyrics
your foot taps without your awareness
the dance floor sucks you up
giving you un-inhibition that other nights drink to find

a taleted mix
drum, stand-up bass
raspy female vocals
sends you home further back in your mind than when you arrived
deeper, better

#1094 grief is like an urgent pee

for blocks of time you forget you have to pee
then
you get close to the bathroom
and your being is filled with the need to pee
no room for daydreaming or thinking straight
you throw the door open, leave it open
maybe you slap the light switch, maybe not
the sight of the toilet makes unbearable more unbearable
which is impossible
but it happens

#1093 i want a crowd

don't, get me wrong
if the numbers didn't show, i'd get over it
i mean, i might sulk for a few days (maybe a week)
then i'd get over it

but, i want a crowd
i want
to run out of chairs
i want
lineups out the door and down sidewalks
i want
a hot dog vendor on the corner
making more money than...
than could fit in my simple pine box

i want a crowd
i want
   music and kind words
   booze
   salt tears and belly laughs
not too much of any one
just enough

i want a crowd
maybe when i age i'll, get past the numbers thing
overcome the pettiness
but i doubt it

i'll want a  crowd
after all
in the end
i'll still be human

#1092 "ashen lady"

learning to drive, with his mother beside him,
he thinks he's doing well
the bucking has ceased
his mother's grip on the holy-shit-handle has relaxed
but, like all of us who attempt something new
his eyes fix on the line between the hood and the ahead
he's told to look ahead
but his eyes wander back to the world ruled by the decal
years later, he will forget just how unnatural driving is
until he becomes the passenger

#1091 dear mister abbott

i have special needs in my class
i need newer books and comfortable chairs
i need the technology you say is here
i need to be appreciated by my employer
want to hear you say that what i do his challenging and worthy of respect
and to belive your words

dear mister abbott
i don't need you to like me
i need you to treat me with the respect that i
work so hard to instill amongst our students

dear mister abbott
i ask students for honesty
so here goes
i don't like the way you speak about teachers
i am suspicious of your motivations and your political choice of words
i hope my instinct is wrong
i hope you have the good of students in the heart under your smooth tie

dear mister abbott
let's talk

#1090 my mother's back

when i was a kid
     i performed miracles

seeing universal secrets
     by squishing my eyeballs with my hands
windmilling an ice-cream bucketful of dinky cars around and around
     without dropping one
walking entire blocks while managing to avoid alligators and detonations
     by avoiding
surviving in the back seat of the family parisienne as it hurtled into the city at 100km/hr (!)
     through a dark tunnel
using the force to will my big brother's coach to invite me on to the softball diamond to join them
     there's a reason they call the field a diamond, a special gem

these days, i perform new miracles
     growing to know my wife even deeper, after ten years together
          seeing students in the moment when they see the world a tiny bit differently
               writing poems that find people at just the right moment in their approximate 70 years here

#1089 "that's her calling now"

two old ladies talk on two old phones, sisters
two old ladies talking like two young girls
jealousy and love
shallowness and depth
a life together
a life apart
they say goodbye, until the next sunday

#1088 the patch

most people think small-town rinks are oval
but ours wasn't
three-quarters was
but one corner extended beyond the boards
to form a small forgotten patch of ice
we spent hours here
dreaming lord stanley dreams
while kicking reclaimed pucks with hand-me-down winter boots
the echo of a puck off the outside of the boards
the cold smell of perma-sweat
stopping to watch the zamboni driver
a god in the world of small-town rinks

#1087 crow's pose

i twist and contort my body
into seemingly simple sounding poses
but all come from the same motion
a full extension of the middle finger
intended for Age
my ego overfills every ashram
i compare and compete
toward self-defeat
why am i not good enough for this moment
why do i need pain to feel good
why do i push, insted of worship
my body

#1086 hot spot

a hundred poems sit in front of me
ripe and ready
but i see none
sometimes, i see them all
but today my poet eyes fail
an electric fireplace throws flickering stanzas of orange ,
drawers full of fresh phrases and tired cutlery
tables at odd angles with odd stories to tell
i know today's poem is there, but it escapes me
an underground fire

#1085 it strikes a chord

his face and his being
more in the moment than this second-hand
his instrument and his soul are teammates in a game they can only lose
and they can only win
a moment when the lyrics are secondary to the experience
both his and the audience'
the final chord
rings
long
not long enough

#1084 cliffless

breathing is a shallow verb performed in the mouth
friends' smiles morph into judgements
their compliments, empty pity
everything undone competes for real estate in my skull
days like this
are good reasons to live on the prairie

#1083 the black end of art and commitment

i've been tired for days
trying to plug in to this moment
this pause between tic and toc on the clock
but my mind is a blender
fast and mixed
my life camera is shaky
i haven't noticed my shaow since
     since 4pm freddy-sips and popsicle-sticks?
sing my voice out through a microphone
squeeze my heart out through a meat-grinder
waiting for someone to notice
instead of applaud