Tuesday, April 14, 2015
Sunday, April 12, 2015
Mountain poem for a woman who died climbing
This appeared in BELLOWING ARK, a print journal, back in 2010:
Mountain poem for a woman
who died climbing
Thundercells and lightning all around the valley
playing my guitar out on the grass
swatting mosquitoes and singing sad songs
looking in at the people in other trailers
drinking and watching tv
cool wind and an open patch of stars
I didn’t know you
our helicopter flew your body back down
you weighed nothing
and we flew you out in a bag
attached to a cable and hook
you fell two hundred feet
maybe more
your partner had her phone
though it was too late even then
even before the rangers could get there
your friends seemed like good people
they cried not because they didn’t understand
but because they did
that you were doing something you felt passionate about
and why should someone die doing that?
and yet what other way would there be to go?
standard procedure is to land the body away
from the helispot
where the coroner can pick it up discreetly
but they walked over to look at you
to open the bag and see you one last time
I couldn’t
I would have liked you
I have always liked the idea of women like you
physical and strong and independent
I stayed where I was
it was sunny there
and wrens kept circling around us
picking up small pieces of grass and dirt
Thursday, April 2, 2015
Passing Influence—poem
This appeared in FENCE way back in 2001. My first 'big' publication in a 'big' literary journal:
Passing Influence
for
Susan Wheeler
This is the best part, hate which now
brings you the whole head in reality–
the man’s SUV slides down the road.
Dancing on the (I don’t know the word) tile
you look down slowly;
this is exercise or punishment.
For only a few minutes you have reeled in, forgetting to
lose (you forget cacti), and before it was obscure:
the driveway which surrounds this dry desert
is the dawn entrance of rapists. In this life
they catch children at the critical moment
and undress the bodies in the heat.
The real stupidity, you know, is always
paying
the asking price.
Then the plane lands, and the man
lights your joint and takes a stone from his briefcase
and leaves a ship of idiocy in the seat.
You are sinking; he has bent your arm, whispering
you are under the boot of a man.
Clumsiness is insect-like, it means punishment.
So you did everything expected, and in your pain
you remembered not to ask whether it was irrational
or only a steady pool on the floor. Loss, fade
distinguish, worms crawling in the dirt,
a maze of arrivals uncrossed like coathangers around which
during pleasant days, voices make mounds of death.
Every night you have locked a door and turned on a lamp
that leaves only the best comfort.
He calls to say he is ready to come. There is
nothing. Now you can’t recognize the abyss
for what it was, now in there, under the dying river,
a goatman is leaving you, nervously straight; promising
death.
Monday, March 23, 2015
Culture Crash: The Killing of the Creative Class—review
My review of Culture Crash: The Killing of the Creative Class by Scott Timberg now up at ENTROPY:
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Question!
Originally appeared in the Huron River Review in 2011.
Question!
What are you doing here?
Do you want some coffee?
Are you alone?
Are you from Michigan originally?
How many cats do you own?
Are you worthy?
What time does the bus come?
Do you like vanilla scones?
Do you like pictures of naked women?
Is it ok if I call you dude?
How long have you had those jeans?
Why don’t you meditate?
Can you see the moon from where you’re standing?
Do you know where my keys were?
Why did you kiss that person?
Is it something you regret?
Terribly?
Have you ever touched a dolphin?
What does Hong Kong smell like?
How old are you really?
In dog years?
Do you speak dog?
What kind of tattoo do you secretly want?
If vampires were real, would you?
What’s the ancient Greek word for girlfriend?
Hot or mold?
On a scale of one to ten, ten being extremely curious, how
annoying are blimps to you?
Which of the three Fates accurately describes you?
Who would win, a shark, or Plato?
What is your CB handle?
What is your secret email name, the one you use for
answering online singles ads?
How often will we run into each other at glory holes?
¿Dónde está el baño?
Can I have a glass of water with no ice please?
Can I avoid talking to the homeless guy?
Can I afford not to?
Can you find any salmon in this river?
Can you find the shark?
Can you still bet on Plato?
Why would you say a dog has no Buddha nature?
Do you have something against dogs?
Why do you distinguish between light and dork?
Do you not have something against distinguishing?
Do you think pantyhose are sexy?
How can I stop?
Would you like some ice-cream?
Would you like some salmon?
Would you like a shark?
Would your vampire like a shark?
Would your dog like a CB handle?
Are the vanilla scones terribly alone?
Is it ok if your cats see the moon?
In dog years?
What time does your tattoo annoy your ancient Greek
girlfriend?
¿Dónde están los online singles ads with no ice?
How often will the Fates be mild?
How often hot?
Why did you kiss that person?
That person?
That person?
Why don’t you meditate?
Haven’t you ever touched a dolphin in Hong Kong?
What are you still doing here?
Thursday, March 19, 2015
Friday, March 13, 2015
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