Friday, October 24, 2014

Sketches - 36 (October 14th, 2014)


Around 8 PM the sun
is completely gone.

Full literal toss about
             fall season.

Old scratchy blues recording
as ancient as
any Egyptian hieroglyph.

Does time matter?

A thousand years or
a hundred years ago -
none of us were racing
through the scarcely
paved roads or
cobbled/dirt sewage
streets anyway.

Homemade runzas are
baking in the oven - thinking
of the gold spectacles of
Kafka’s Amerika, the
intrapersonals, age of industry
teaching new instincts, new
pass times, the passing
bureaucracy of conversations
scarcely recorded

and just how much of
it goes down that
proverbial drain completely

No light in a grave or when the
          sun passes down
          in the west -
          night encloses us,
          everything folds

(October 14th, 2014)


Thursday, October 23, 2014

Sketches - 35 (October 5th, 2014)


Two AM in the dark morning
and once out back for
a smoke of my pipe,
heard the not-too-distant
yell of some lunatic
wreaking drunken
rage dry mouthed
havoc across the backstreets
of midtown Omaha and
its farthest reach east
Missouri river marking
the quiet mud-suck
boundary and my eyes
are flitting as I finish
this testimony with a
collapse into bed covers
up to cozy chin
through the cloven
hooved dark night -

it’s two AM in my life again,
no daylight but pointless
anyway as my eyes
are drawn shades
and for as sober as I
am, will not remember
this a jot further.

(October 5th, 2014)

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Sketches - 34 (October 4th, 2014)


Cool chill evening
and sudden hush over
all singing screeching insects.
Somehow that cold secret message
originating perhaps someplace
over the slow drawn slack
jawed plains has icily
tapped summer on the
shoulder and pointed
it the way out.

So collars are high around
necks again and cold
wind cleans the slate
and ushers in the final
month’s gasp of this
long drawn out year.

Poignant bitter morning
frost will brown the tall bright
sunflowers.  The responsibly
elite will start thinking
about snow tires, the poor
will slip cautiously slowly
over the ice and all will
find themselves one cozy
corner or other or
suffer the frost bite
       deep freeze.

Heat blears through the
vents and gives me a sand
paper tongue and thick
unwholesome throat swallow
          by morning.

(October 4th, 2014)

Friday, October 17, 2014

Sketches - 33. (October 4th, 2014)


The chill has arrived, early Oct.
fall chill.  When I feel the cool
wind caressing my face, I reflect
on my coffee cart job in Denver
Colorado, 1995 positioned on the corner
of 17th and Blake across the
street from the RTD Public transit
station, main hub, and the steamed
milk (hiss) and espresso scent
up to my nostrils as I would
sit waiting for passing customers
reading Edgar Alan Poe, my guts
in the tense knot of low income,
barely making it.

Nobody was on line then and
scarcely anyone had a cell
phone.  My favorite mornings
were those quiet cloudy
ones, bright orange red heaps
of leaves tickling the wide Blake Street
sidewalk in tumble motion
and gust hiss.  

Now, at 44 years old it’s Nebraska’s
barest vines creeping up trees
and walls - trembling net
interwoven through chain link
spaces of endless link fences
like mechanized robot chirps
when tossed around or shaken
up by fingers thrust through and
curled up - ball of fist.

The hell dream and the nightmare.
Soft beginning of Oct., 
forty-four Octobers
that I've witnessed and slipped through
white knuckled skin of teeth.

(October 4th, 2014)

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Sketches - 32 (October 4th, 2014)


Dead leaves scattered on the
sidewalk in front of Loveland
Elementary, Omaha Nebraska
Westside School, parked here
to pick up Zoey, then zip over
to the middle school to pick up
Max.  A nondescript man
in worn denim-blue shorts
and a blue bill cap is
talking to someone parked here
picking up their own kids.  The trees
all around are motionless and the
air is hot.  More car pull in
like trout sniffing around a
stream after the seasonal
voyage is over.  Mercedes
4-wheel drive, Buicks, BMW’s,
flippant old brown mini-vans
and this time of year the 3:21 PM
sun is already on a gradual
southern descent dipping earlier
into the west, wrapping the town
up in a chalky dirt glow as the
trees are rusty and vague with
pre-fall colors before the
brilliant end-of-year Autumn.

Picking up kids is all part
of the schedule, the busy
point blank firing squad shooting
down days as I sit here with
thoughts about my wife’s naked body
and I’m certain that on days
like this, given the chance, we’d
simply pick up the kids and
drive away into forever.

A whole noisy population of
children pour out of the school.
Cars gently idle, hum,

All this adult sex started the kids, started
up the schools, the bills, the governments
foot up our collective ass.  However, my
kids are mine to protect from all that
as the rest of it belongs to God and what
ever will is stolen away from us, our souls
tumbling like dry leaves in the dominant
                  Will of the unseen.

(October 4th, 2014)