Tuesday, May 13, 2014

you said "spring".
spring enough
peppery air
almost, or.
Spring approaching                                                Now try to understand the
trees                                                                      seriousness of the adventure.
spring enough
spring advancing                                                 dissolving yellow then blue then red again.
you said
spring enough advancing                           a pediatrician had said the most dangerous
air budding                                                things were trampolines, even without nets.
trees newly peppered
almost spring
spring advancing.                                   The confection is afflicted with a mild psychosis.
                                                                 all quite worrysome.

                                                That's..."why," she said, "something or other about not qualifying".

Monday, April 7, 2014

Awoke constantly stumbling over my own ideas and memories.  At once, internal combustion and suddenly the Yukon Territories in the spring.  Dense unforgiving mountains, glacial moraines.  I'm walking along the train tracks, high altitude sage brush steppe, surrounding low, low ranges silhouetted in the sun.  Careen in circles, light blue midnight glow the parking lot immersed, diesel idle brings me back to internal combustion.  Pressing out a gudgeon pin, seating bearings, the whole beast turned upside down its underbelly exposed, its intestines spilling out, yet clean.  Shiny clean.  Then again to the rafters of America, high above the ceiling below floating lazily down the inner passage like drifting down the Mississippi in the Cambrian, always squinting to see the pre-history oozing from above.  Forced into a period of stasis, trapped in the heartland I had to scrutinize years worth of stored images and events.  Why all this now?

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Tomah, WI

The diesel jake brake from the distant interstate.  Far off train whistle blows.  The traveler cannot be suppressed.  Trapped on the skirts again, longing for an arrival, a departure, now any kind of motion to anywhere.  Desperation breeds desperate measures, viable farfetched solutions.  Put it all together in the cornfield, shimmering mud made deep by spring runoff.  Never seen so much I couldn’t humanize. 
“Visions from life’s other side.” 
Suddenly everything was hinged upon going. 
 Slugging rotgut from the bottle in the parking lot. 
Staring at the familiar blue and red highway compass as headlights reflected off of it dancing in the warm night air. 
 I have become a highway ghost.  Lost to the side of the road, the parking lot.  No one notices because no one wants to.  Just don’t ask for help.