Posts for June 20, 2020 (page 6)

Cave drawings were found in Borneo.
We listen to poems about trees at Artsplace
while dancers above us  drum the floor
to a Fauré mashup. A plaque in Iceland
commemorates the last iceberg.

Hummingbird fledglings
set out for a nonstop flight south,
but the Amazon forests are burning
as Notre Dame goes up in flames.
We prospect for water on Saturn’s moon.

Behind the garage, we bury the chipmunk
caught by the cat. We’ve gone from burying
the dead, to stacking them, to recycling
their ashes. The landfills are overflowing.
The possum scavanges at dusk.

We do fifty repetitions on our yoga balls.
We hug tight to our therapy dogs.

What’s left is an unkindness of ravens
imitating human speech. They somersault
down from the sky to break our skin.
Shorebirds saved Columbus.
If we live forever, we’ll need a new planet.

Some folks rewrite
history so their skeletons can
dance to a familiar jig

some rewrite it
because they can’t 
see themselves
for what they are

some rewrite it
because the truth
dictated was never an option
to swallow

last looks through information
about users.
from most to least.

special users
(surprise)
last record times.

This is different

lets you dash

instead of
complain

Set the time warp leniency
slightly out of order.

problem is assigned to users

unless the suspicious machine hasn’t been used in a year.

don’t chop the part off of ‘XXXX entries.

run.

—
Found poem (erasure) from the Linux Man Pages
Complete text at:

https://man7.org/linux/man-pages/man1/last.1.html

The GNU accounting utilities were written by Noel Cragg
<noel@gnu.ai.mit.edu>. The man page was added by Dirk Eddelbuettel <edd@qed.econ.queensu.ca>.
 

I wish I could tune into her like a pop
song. But no, she wants me to look inside
uncommonly quiet places — the crow’s
small torpedo beak or the cozy new
pod of wild blue indigo. Mother,

where are you? Gone 13 years
& still playing hide
& seek. In another dream, I
search for recognizable
whispers. Maybe you are a bonfire

in Gujarat or a black
hole at heart of the Milky Way
& the dusty interstellar
cloud surrounding it. Are you studying
thermodynamics or gliding

with stingrays on the Baja Coast?
Whatever you are up to it must be damn
good. Must be magnificent as rubies
& gold where you are, but why, why,
why can’t you visit me?

Morning folded the moon
three ways, tossing soft
light over the shoulder
of daybreak’s trauma.  

Noon set the clouds
on shuffle, wind carving
free-form Rorschach exams
for errant watchers.  

Sunset betrayed
us all, dripping layers
of night on the airscape
to cover disruption.  

This palette of sleeplessness,
this choking mantle,
this void in me.

The minnows are dreaming
where the water tells its own story
of creek rocks and rolling hills
a little ways further the water pools

The water whispers
a lullaby story
where the creek runs across the rocks
there is a song in the running water

The creek is its own story
unsettled and flowing
you can hear the gurgle of water
a little ways beyond the deep

Cold water settles there
with the unseen flow
in the deeper hole of water
the minnows must be taking a nap

Sky in a bottle/ clouds just hazy vision.
Another night in bed/ another awake dream.
The intelligence others perceive/
Just part of another delusion.
Ideas in a jumble/
The darkness strains the mind.
In my eyes there’s a world/
Every dream is another sunny day.
I can be better/
I am eating well now.
I am out going/
My family are my friends.
Deeper down/
I find more understanding.
Misery is comfort/
Friends until it leaves.
Self abuse is obsession/
Subconscious deception.
Ribs tear skin/
Always eating.
Always criticizing/
Convincing the stomach to be full.
I will always have another day/
I can always go deeper still.
I can always have friends/
I can always be interesting.
I will always be doubtful/
Family will always reassure me.
It’s just the way some people are born/
The sky is my wish, kept in a bottle.
Off to bed/
The clouds are just hazy vision.

Rolling hills
with no back drop
Blood, sweat, tears,
red and wet faces
“Dad—” I mean, “Coach
I can’t do it”
“Boy yes you can,
fuck it, push through it”
Applebee’s after a
ticket to Rupp arena
Regional championships,
the pedestal stepped
Immortals, town legends,
and memories to be forgotten
Another net inside my pocket,
but we all cleaned out our locker

I exist within a smoldering ruin of my own creation,
I thought myself all high and mighty,
That nothing could touch me,
That I was doing what was best,
I couldn’t understand that I was slowing burning the world around me,
That was was destroying that which I loved most,
I exits in a desolate ruin of my own creation,
I remain her because I hope that those that left will come back,
I stay here because I need to redeem myself,
I’m here to rebuild the world that I destroyed,
I’m here to make it better than it was before,
I’m here to turn these ruins,
Into a true utopia

Can’t fathom the trepidation
people of color live with
during mundane living.

As a woman I avoid certain
places and situations
according to time of day.

As a widow I learned to be
wary of stalkers on social media.

Predators prey on all sorts
of vulnerabilities.