Poems from the week (Nov. 2018)
*this week was full of wintery surprises. Here are some photos taken during some late-winter sunrises as I waited for the kettle to boil.
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Rich old lady
once there was an old lady
she lived in a house
a millionaire who fed crows peanuts
every morning
what a sight it was to see 851 birds perched on her roof
the crows would have been strong
enough to carry the brick house off into the rising sun
silently waiting for the daylight
the lucky ones would find the salt-sprinkled peanuts
at 4am, she opened the front door,
looking out on to the blue lawn of snow
unaware of the 851 birds above her
she threw the treats onto the snow knowing they would disappear soon
the crows waited to eat
respectfully, and she went back inside
they swarmed down, not using their wings, a swooping race to get the most of what was there
once all the nuts were gone, they flew off to
find coins during the day
from empty fountains, sidewalks, and parks
to give a gift to the old lady
and in the late blue of the afternoon, when all that could be felt was the cold wind
the smell of burning wood from the neighborhood,
they would drop their shiny coins down the chimney of the old lady's house
where a jar lay at the bottom making clinking sounds
and over time had made her a millionaire.
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Plates and records
lost grip, plates rolled down the hall
spinning into records
chasing them down the wooden stairs
the main entrance of the building
neighbors come out to catch the commotion
of a college boy breaking his back to chase plates
the music they heard!
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Symmetry
Symmetry is no longer beautiful to me
As I'm doing all this algebra
my journal get lighter
my dreams turn greyer
a sacrifice I can't control
lose my mind or lose my home?
I don't mean to sound like a downer
it's more of a theory, maybe I should be more careful
but do you know any sane creators?
inevitable instincts, drawn across a line
back to the calculated ways, I go about my days
walking through graph paper, get on the train
or generally driving on the open freeway
the white prairie sky,
dead grass whistle on the side
the hair of earth, drowned in blacked tar conditioner
my thoughts can't roam, decisions made in classrooms
but i'd say the thoughts you have in the bathroom
are more acute as you bend over the sink thinking
what do I do?
impulses are one of the most natural things
two steps beyond instinct, your true pulse
be emotional
you have a heart for a reason.
Sick and tired of normality.
He got really good at drawing the shadows of shadows
Big strands of hair falling, as if you've just gotten a haircut
By a hair dresser that didn't once comb your hair.
There's a pattern on the inside too.
