Saturday, April 30, 2011

Look Sharply

I still want
bricks laid
and

dewy
apples picked.
The walks past

parking lots and
Stop & Shop
encounters.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Readings

So easy to lament.
I hear you, sirs. 
I say though, that
everything touched
upon is still with me.
These artistic feelings
exist just for that
outward appeal for
more. 

It is probably an
unhealthy option.
I don't give in much
anymore.  If I'd
let myself go, you
wouldn't be sending
me messages.  We
are stuck in these
words.

Ago

Affections moved to light.
Maybe also reflections of
light, and images contained
in them.  Rafters, some hay,
fresh mulch and its chemical
reactions.  Typing with two
spaces after each sentence
now.  So easily taken back
to work.  Except this time
they know I'm a phony.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

There's just a lot to process

Hannibal Crosses the Alps - a collaborative sculpture




All in ten minutes

4.3.11
The water is green-blue today.  Choppy.  Windy tree tops. 

I leave the house to redeem a free drink coupon at Starbucks.  They say I'm shining brighter so it must be my birthday.  I can dig that. 

I pull up to the first main intersection between my home and my destination and stop behind a black SUV.  There is a black and white collie-type dog breathing the breeze in the back seat.  This SUV is stopped next to a pick up truck in the next lane over.  Once the dog spots these people he starts barking wildly.  He's now half out of the back window going mad about these people.  The truck inches up as much as it can as the dog cranes it's body towards them.  Dog?  What are you trying to say?  After the truck departs, the dog keeps on going.  Staring in their direction.

I get my coffee, leave the building and the black SUV and hyper collie dog pull in.

Back to the drive to get coffee, next intersection.

I pull a left turn to continue my journey and get stopped behind a slow car just long enough to witness a fight break out.  An old, beat up, green hotbox of a car is parked jaggedly behind a normal looking sedan.  The passenger of the hotbox is banging his fists on the sedan driver's window and screaming.  The words don't matter, just an ensemble of jibberish in high pitched, excited tones.  I couldn't make any of them out.  There is no sign of collision, the guy in the sedan is seemingly calm and the driver of the green car has a bewildered yet amused look on his face.

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