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Poemism
Poemism, Women in a hallway laugh in high-pitched gasps Keyboard sounds each letter, each word, each mark Columns and books and pages and paper and carts Hands have been tied; set in motion, all of...
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Lifestyles, I forget *(MPLS)
Heat index Windless lungs Torrential rain Frozen months Past pains Tattoos reflect Painted bodies Empty heads Pierced flesh Slight regret Walking home Make amends Life-styles Cigar-ettes Cold...
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Ephemera on the Walls of Time (prose)
And the gravity was of another land, another culture, another time. Things we brought with: our past. Things we can’t keep: anything. Taking and giving chips at a time, plumes of dust, or sand in an...
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To Brunch in Dublin
We walk in brisk blinding light Thru people of differing pasts, Closely along the River Liffey; Birds, paper, coins, and trash.
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A Sunday Walk through Dublin
On the streets of Dublin razor-wire hangs from fences. Seagulls and Magpies dive in headwinds, this sentiment. From a far off land noting the usual; on the corner is a café, In the streets are...
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The Little Things We Do
We wake in the predawn. We take warm showers. We tie tight our laces. We walk through few doors. We take in the bright light. We move down the walkway. We step through the snow. We start this new day.
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Post-Modern Prose
Today I woke up next to someone I love, I walked into the kitchen to feed the cat. After that, I took a shower, a shit, and brushed my teeth; Today has been pretty remarkable already.
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Difference
a day, a day, to wake and maintain. a day, a day, cash coffee conversation, culture contained. a day, a day, one is never the same. a day, a day where’s my change?
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St. Anthony Waste
Sour leather bands synched in a veiled humidity, swam this Midwestern oven, doggy paddle for fluid strokes. Rolled windows on St. Anthony caught a trash truck soup of faintly fanned aroma sweet under...
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Metro Rain
Where the metro rain comes from I do not know. Maybe it comes from the Gulf of Mexico, or across outer space deep, or maybe from the hard ground under my feet. I really do not know where it comes from....
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Do We Ever Actually Sleep?
Entering new worlds to escape another I woke up from a dream in a lonely bed. Real life sat next to it on the nightstand, in the early stretches, in “slept like a rock” preparation for what’s to come....
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A Moment of Silence for Cecil the Lion
Texts of love were left drawn on post-it’s at the kitchen table— outside Southeast was dark green light blue and a soft cream, where cars played musical chairs with endangered spaces. A “truly real”...
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College Park in the Past
Shades of the trees toward western skies rest a cool shadow on a once brilliant face, where the lacquer for paint had peeled. Smack of fuzzed tennis balls hurled in the wind, zipping with bugs in a St....
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American Mammal
A bright sun crawls over a hot sunroof to meet the working day, as bulbs on a computer screen flash, amass the made up page. Men and women slip underneath, characteristics become unaccounted for....
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I love coming early
Good morning Midwest, there is joy to be found in objectively taking the peeking sunrise, even behind overcast clouds. It happens so early in fact that you can taste the shine of the drinking fountains...
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Cedar Lake South
Colors undulated in water’s reflection Each vessel thrown motion on waves. Daylight slipped between fast shadows Astir with dust, sunscreen, and wake. Reading and discussion as people laze, Land...
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today, december 7th
i remember december 7th came like a cold shower wrapped in an old towel, had me pacing turning a radio dial and wiping up spilt coffee. life before 8 am; life like this, get familiar. a new name on the...
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awake ahead
Quiet radio waves and old spice blues, coming out to peak, getting you thru; tight floor stretches, w/ a soft morning hue, another day come up, another day to do.
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