Sketches - 19 (August 30th, 2014)

19.

Today was game day, first Cornhusker

play off with Southern Florida, first game

                            of the year -

beer popcorn potato chip

                            couches -

assortment of cheap grocery store

dip and men yelling at tv screens.

(August 30th, 2014)

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Sketches - 18 (August 30th, 2014)

18.

Up after a Saturday afternoon

nap sitting in the freshly mowed

back yard watching the late

day 5 PM sun glance it off

with all that is green after

yesterday's torrential downpour.

Chainsaw cicadas hidden

away in giant neighborhood

trees screeching steadily

rhythmically with what my grandmother

used to call ‘such a lonesome sound’.

Green sharp thorns of black berry

bushes reach out almost reptile-like

from vines covering a common city

chain link fence behind me.

And of course sounds of

unknown neighbors moving in

to the house/apartment next door with

windows overlooking old garages

and a gravel driveway/parking

lot, scree kritch of tiny stones

under tires, men attempting half

explained logics, their women close

behind whilst digging through their truck

bed tool boxes and again those chainsaw

cicadas keep it up something

fierce as dogs yap and bark

at semi-distance and Chopin

twinkles from the open kitchen door.

(August 30th, 2014)

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Sketches - 17 (August 25th, 2014)

17.

A painting dreams itself still-life

and streets glowing and shadowed

over by midnight street lights

are raw with silence -

               prevailing claustrophobe

                            silence.

Its going to storm.

Lightning flash antics in God’s

clouded over dream sky.

And it's HOURS past twilight,

witching hour midnight in fact,

             
our cat left a dead bird

             by way of gift under one of our

             black chairs out back.

In the toss-for-chance

you never know what you’ll get.

One night, high and lofty as

giants and the next, low

              as worms.

Birds peck at worms, treats

in the mud and gone, most

feeling the migration urge,

flying off to warmer climes -

          change in constant

          like disappearing flapping

          geese V’s squawking

          honking out like packs

          of wild dogs.

(August 25th, 2014)

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Sketches 16 - (August 24th, 2014)

16.

Worn down hot congested city -

                 I can feel it down to

                 the roots of my hair.

My digestion is slow bothered at times

but no matter, sun up sun down -

         older I get the more I begin

         to realize how everything

                       has limits.

Sooner or later -

          a chapter ends.

I've felt it in Nebraska funeral homes

Texas funeral homes

magic of rain drenched Chicago alley

                                                  way

                      funeral home.

There’s a funeral home on Center Street

on the way to/from work.

Denver funeral homes and wavering

unbeknownst pastors.

Children of this lone earth funeral home

and what of all that really?

Questioning the inevitable?

Fearing the ‘to definitely be (or not depending

on perspective)’

God as empty as early morning mailboxes

winds whistle through

and yet for whatever reason

the land turns blessed in

soon-to-be-fall with seemingly

billions of monarch butterflies

migrating in and through Nebraska

roll-plains and bread basket field

                    wilderness.

Lick the wounds the weather gave you.

Find your step in the taillight

beneath strange shaped clouds

with last hour of day lonesome

             luminescence -

               shudder at the wonder

               of it.

(August 24th, 2014)

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Sketches - 15 (August 24th, 2014)

15.

Morning goes - Sunday morning and tint-sun

      gleam shine, wicked over heavy

      down-swinging tree 

branches,

gentle Sunday morning, kids rolling around on

       the living room floor.

(August 24th, 2014)

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