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We never had one of those TV sitcom father-imparts-his-sage wisdom, serious sit-downs that I can recall I have no fatherly counsel fortune-cookie-inclusion viral-meme-worthy wisdom to share rarely proclaiming, “As my daddy used to say…” Sans great punchline parts of my father I carry with me, mirth more tangible than profundity less open to interpretation than Read more
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There is reason, even some rhyme in the stanza, the beat the reading in time of who, what, why he was what he did and why he didn’t why he maybe should’ve not stressing on could’ve Sometimes His groove was far more scat than stanza he could always carry a jaunty life tune singing it Read more
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At age seven I nearly killed the pubescent birch tree anchoring our Minneapolis backyard stripping it of all its bark, roots to four feet up – the physical limits of my fanciful reach As Mrs. Kime’s most intrepid first-grader I planned to build a birch bark canoe, ala the Chippewa we were studying, but my Read more
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My mom found the dead chipmunk I surreptitiously brought home from the lake at the end of the summer I was ten; lifeless, stripe-tailed rodent in a black-and-blue JC Penney shoebox sarcophagus on which I had scrawled ‘stuff’ – an obvious adolescent admonition to ‘keep out!’ in bold, black Magic Marker The chipmunk was well-preserved, Read more
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Been here too long seen way too much my empathy has decayed piles of rubble-pity hope was a chrysalis birthed ugly butterflies that now flit from dead plant to dead plant Paradox eternal doing right things for eventual wrong reasons appeasing, ignoring those doing wrong things for right reasons conundrums abound doing good where ‘good’ Read more
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Sawed-off fence picket turned sideways points eastward, sort of you are – we are – ‘that way’ if signs are to be believed The sign unaware you have been gone thirty years, plus your house,over twenty anyone driving north on Crow Wing County Highway Three would believe they could turn, still find you I know Read more
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Poets have often likened love to roses summer days pastoral scenes other sundry phenomena saccharine sells in toto love is not candy roses sweet imagery clichés violin soundtracks I, having lived love see more esoteric practicality from, for the heart love is tartar sauce. It looks like hell you have no idea what is really Read more
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Historically considering myself the Scarecrow middle-age, circumstance, time have me contemplating fates identifying a more Tin Man persona seeking oil for locked up joints moving clunkily, at times joyously graceful, others grudgingly accepting assistance from my companions – friends who humor my myriad compunctions to stay out in the rain eschewing consequences for the sheer Read more
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Endings, beginnings reboots declining to resolve to do things better? more? less? just because. Finding myself in select company pragmatism not considered a virtue when calendars flip solemnity, tradition of fresh twelve invoked by most still, I demure idealism has its place the reality in transition December to January is more dog-earing key pages less Read more
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‘…A flute of champagne contains one million bubbles.’ Toasting a new year – fresh starts beginnings, endings, transitions – see each bubble as a moment each individually tantalizing, collectively rising rapidly, quickly dissipating Gone short-lived effervescence sweet anticipation swiftly departed memorable Savor each bubble – the tingling of remembrance tickle of anticipation moments reveled in Read more
Ponderable polemics, poetic 