Monday, October 9, 2017

Sucka

Out of a job
on a Monday morning
and I could get used to
staying in bed, not being
embarrassed to say I have
no current drive or ambition,
just listening to time pass
not playing the mandated
game of debt accumulation in
the service of someone else's wealth.

Thursday, October 5, 2017

In the wind

Another change - drastic, sudden
and unwelcome. I am tired now
with no will to scrap.

Monday, October 2, 2017

October things

A cold morning
and a taste of things to come
winters have been hard on me
lately, the last couple anyway,
I'm sickened by the cycle.

Been worried about fathering
About not doing so, not being there,
the absence. Yesterday, we cut the
top off a pumpkin, removed it's
cold guts with our hands, separated
washed and roasted the seeds. This
time I didn't rush, was careful and
they did not burn.

The youngest called it a successful day.

Saturday, September 30, 2017

Please don't look at us

Making America ashamed again,
Trump's treatment of Puerto Rico,
I don't even have words.

Monday, September 25, 2017

Paperwork

The long form needs completing
and with it maybe I can put away
some of this dread of the last seven
or so years.

Saturday, September 23, 2017

Warm Imagined

Someone made me look back, suggested I read the past again. I feel it all, still, in my chest and remember the celebration of moments and the desperation of losing them. Well, you're not dead. You didn't die without them, but the landscape has changed and the road you now walk is unfamiliar and strange. It's not good to be alive - it's a heavy pack and a long road, mostly. You take it off to sleep, which you are grateful for, and then you lift it on again upon waking, This while you've really got nothing to complain about. Your house still has it's roof, the plates here have not shifted disruptively, the ground is still and dry beneath your feet. In September, I hear Blue Jays more often and their cries touch me like an imagined friend, leaving me warmer in imagination and colder in the world.

Thursday, September 21, 2017

Summer's never been mine anyway

The radio sang
Autumn is hard to love
I've heard those words myself
Which is maybe why I cannot
Help but love her
She'll arrive tomorrow sure
And we'll watch the glory of
Our demise together
And I will burn
Then she will
Go