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On family trips when I was eight, nine plastic, primary-color cowboys, Indians, soldiers, animals fought and romped in a synthetic, nappy, dark-blue rear-window battlefield meadow Other times, it was a fuzzy ledge on which to lean, and watch the road fading, while my mother half-jokingly admonished me to turn around, see where I was going,… Read more
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“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step” Laozi Our journey has finally begun there have been fits, starts, delays in getting here; now finally underway, I am ill at ease The irony, not lost on me An inveterate wanderer, – ‘Mr. Spontaneity’ to friends, family I do not… Read more
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Eight-by-ten, glossy Women’s gowns a snowy hue men’s jackets polar-colored pants black, everything else radiant shades of grays drearily brilliant tones off-black, dark-white vibrant portrait in celluloid Twelve adults, a young boy bouffants and buzz cuts, ogling camera, mischievously dead serious, mindfully aware playful magnitude of the day fighting off hangovers practicing feigned solemnity due… Read more
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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
Ponderable polemics, poetic 