Posts for June 18, 2022 (page 7)

It’ll make me go crazy, my imagination
hastily you chase me, to points of furcation
insatiably you waste me?
or..
graciously you sedate me, in locations opening up loquaciously
locating me tenuously from spaces of some traces that where spaced out spaciously

I need a place equipped with creativity that cant be traced to any particular time or space
where the flow of productivity comes at a pace 
that loops around and conductivity of thoughts are laced with connections to colors that come encased with directions to wonders and where they’re placed 

tastelessly, I know hot to use logic to get me from A to B
it’s often not where I want to be as I see a sea of imagination unfolding inside of me
three cherry trees serve as an aviary for my fairy canary to serenade 
while esprit bees bring a necessary tune they carry to be played 
I can arrive at any note or letter when my ingenuity is displayed

away we fade, to my apartment in the sky,
I float as clouds pass beneath me as I lie
overlooking a calm ocean through my glass floor
I smell Pad Thai cooking but I don’t perform the chore
the automation is just the norm
sitting in infinite durations without a storm
implementing the sounds of instruments to a breeze that’s warm

transform, into a basement type space an underground mansion where we sit Indian and face, a style nowhere else can re trace
where it smells like warm cinnamon in a cold kitchens airspace
where we don’t care about species or race,
two, maybe three dogs we can showcase
where a park after dark resides right up a staircase
or how about we unlace and stare as the flames rising in the fireplace
where the disguising of a quiet subspace can get hit with a surround sound base,
it can’t be found on a graphical user interface,
this theatrical type of place, only happens when you and I interlace

embrace, a glowing meadow as the habitat,
of shuttering by white butterflies in éclat 
mesmerized by where we are at 
my eyes stayed surprised by the acrobats
one all jittery made me feel brilliantly in fact,
another in my periphery made me laugh with its trickery so tact
and my favorite who flew closer just to chat, near the ENO blanket on which we sat

arrive at, a place I could sit and stay all day, the country side cafe
where a happy dog readily greets at the entrance way
where the meats and treats are purposely prepared for that day
and the seating isn’t so cubic,
bites and winks are timed in accordance with the music
with a chaise in the corner, if you need to use it…

Happy and unhappy are stories we tell ourselves.
Amazingly, great storytellers are among the most
unhappy people on earth                                         
                                                I call this a “conundrum,”
which means a difficult and confusing problem.
Theologians call it original sin, the spot that won’t
wash clean no matter how many times you shout
“Out damn spot!”                              
                                 Other terms, such as poignancy,
rony, or “the human condition” are thrown against
the wall of conundrum like so much spaghetti but
nothing much sticks.        
                       
                                         So  

Tell yourself a happy story. You can do it.
There’s no law against it, unless you invent one.  

the sun orbits my life
a clacking freight train
events evade my timelines
graffiti on the last car
Never Grow Up

Even though it always burns you 
like an ember in the fireplace 
as you sweep up the ashes. 

Even though the last time around
is still a bone in your throat 
you can’t quite swallow. 

Even though it will make you wish
you were never born
all over again. 

Even though you swear on the Bible
it’s the last thing on your mind,
the very last thing. 

I woke up this morning and there were purple flowers everywhere.
The sky was purple.
The grass was purple.
I saw a purple squirrel climb a purple tree.
I heard a car horn,  beep beep.
Guess what, y’all?
That car was purple, too.

My oh my, how can that be?
Everything is purple I see.

What is the reason?
What is the rhyme?
Could the answer be?

I got it!
My midnight snack, a Purple Cow.
Not one, two, but three.

She pushes the oxygen tank in her shopping cart,
line clipped to her nose, tether helping her stay upright 
on slow shuffling feet. I assume, perhaps wrongly, 
that she was a smoker, a half-full ashtray on her make-up table, 
tobacco flakes in the creases of her purse. 
She has that same gray pallor my father had his last year, 
something to do with capillaries starved for air. 
It all comes back to me, the coil of hose beside the recliner,
the steady tick from the oxygen compressor after each inhale, 
that sad, sheepish look that says I brought this on myself. 
Toward the end, I’d come over when I could 
and we’d watch old westerns on cable, 
the stories he grew up with, the good guys in white ten gallon hats,
always a shootout at the end, always the symbol of evil
lying crumpled in the dust. Mostly he’d doze, 
the clicking of that valve allaying my fear when he was too quiet.
I let her go ahead of me — she just has a few perishables: eggs, milk, and cheese.
On his last morning, before he drifted off for good, 
I asked my dad how we was feeling. He said, his words leaking
through gasps, eyes wide and frightened,
I’m doing the best I can, and really isn’t that all any of us can say, 
about anything, as we wait our turn in checkout
battling for one more breath?

thunderstorm coming 

we’ve been out for awhile
into the world full-forward
fear did its job
we no longer get too close
we draw close
too
like never before it’s a whole new world.
we are
we must
see with brand new eyes
brand new
my vantage beside window ajar
Lake Michigan shore my pinkened sightline
waves crash high winds
who knew this lake the largest in the world!
boats’ echoes linger in rocky cliffs
the long before
casting hellos to footprints
the now this is
mine my sons’ the dog that bird
what is
next
do the waters
do the winds
do the cliffs
do the leaves buffeting
request answers
do the dogs paws flipping sand tumbling sea
question with intent
do I alone seek to draw a line across time
identifying my place in this strange place
we collectively agree to call
life?

My favorite girl

has four legs.

She sheds a lot,

and loves scrambled eggs.

She travels on the gravel

to everybody’s yard.

Wanting a tasty treat

since she’s the security guard.

All the neighbors know her,

she’s a welcome site.

Unless there is no cookie

she’ll bark till they see the light.

Then prances on to the house,

and lets me know she’s home.

Gets a drink of water

and sits there like a gnome.

She keeps her eyes on the road

waiting for some action.

Anything that crosses her path,

She barks with real passion.

Her name is Olive Oil,

rat terrier extraordinaire.

And when her duties are over

she lounges in her chair.

She wears a stark white lily
Against dark hair and you
Discern the difference between dream and reality
Scanning across a screen
Music screaming and cloying
Where the explosions fold back into silence

Speak to me