dots/2

10 out of 10 men incarcerated. 10 new beginnings today.
today individuals convicted of any drug felony are not eligible for food stamps
no work + no food in a round about way = recidivism: working back on the streets in the underground economy
arrested because of the color of skin at that place and time
attempted arrest, at least, oh you're not... who we are looking for

calculations of non-white males in elementary and middle school add up to prison space estimates in 2020...

would you hire a man convicted of a felon?
would you hire a woman convicted of a felon?

working part time at mcdonalds for minimum wage after x amount of time making x amount of money in another trade
chemist, banker, broker
focused, role-oriented

the cars, the clothes, the comforts, the life from ladue to ...

i have to have hope for new beginnings and the hope feeling felt then
and that a lot of people work hard together to keep that hope alive

dots/1

don't read what i am writing
yeah, i am talking to you

it's a make you look kind of trick
like you're trying to fill up your gas tank
real quick
but suddenly you see digital numbers tick
58.49
no
followed by a series of no's

what are you going to do now?
not get in your car and drive?
not sleep in the bed you made

i suppose if someone will pick you
up
and leave your full tank
and keep your empty wallet
crying in your back pocket self
to the next place
then,
what have you got?

two riddles rattling on someone else's road
no solution just empty excuses
bail outs and misuses of time and words

shut your mouth if you cant hear the birds
chirping, singing in branches in the trees
between new green leaves

let your skin taste a new season
and exhale relief
nothing ever stays the same

how many mornings have i woken up
to furniture rearranged
empty bottles of pain laid out
in dried up puddles of yesterday
now a floor film residue and

my choice to step in it and carry
it with me more

how many days and i won't even notice
until a couple long quiet nights incite
a riot
a made you look
make you look
are you looking
in the mirror
is what you see, here, getting nearer

closer, in your face, louder

made you look.

get in the car
where to from here?

Rilke

You See I Want a Lot
by Ranier Maria Rilke


You see, I want a lot.
Maybe I want it all:
the darkness of each endless fall,
the shimmering light of each ascent.

So many are alive who don’t seem to care.
Casual, easy, they move in the world
as though untouched.

But you take pleasure in the faces
of those who know they thirst.
You cherish those
who grip you for survival.

You are not dead yet, it’s not too late
to open your depths by plunging into them
and drink in the life
that reveals itself quietly there.

untitled

i fell asleep and
walked a lamplit street of dreams
opened my mailbox and heard sirens
exhaling out
round confines of cold metal
releasing a tortured need
to the state of emergency

from sound to thought
registered wonder, ch-chings
distanced a bell rings
a man, woman, his leg, her heart?

too many unknowns
fiction write with pen and paper
not between the ears

a little breeze through the cracked window

a bleeding heart is an open one

don't lean on the bark
of these words
and wait for the sap to drip out

"there are many kinds of open"

---


sometimes we absorb all the dings and stings we cannot stop
that we forget all the wings and zings we can start.


---


a yesterday ghost body raps on today's door:
trespasser fiend
no who-body gave you
entry permission
viewing admission
to vomit judgments
on my flower welcome mat
purchased yesterday.
leave your loathing
and no-good nothing
residue and charcoal breath
to smoke and mirror
somebody else


---


i was born
encouraged to believe like
a human is to breathe.

(one in and one out at a time,
on an infinite and unknown repeat)

March 20

St. Louis, Central time, 10:24 but even that is 10 minutes ahead.

Wainrights on youtube song length clips and then remembering Marge Piercy "To Have Without Holding" for anyone who has loved, who loves, who wants to love.

Things are different after a crash.

It is an, all of a sudden, focus on the damage the need the remains. Who can be saved what can be salvaged. It is 11:40 central time. Time does keep ticking fast. Without something to invoke perspective life can be an increasingly narrowing blur of "me, me, me, me, my, I, mine, my, me, me, me."

How can it be that it does not require a trajedy, a travesty, a trauma to make one think twice. To find the gratitude. To find more than the lesson but to put it into practice and feel the growth.

like nothing

young youthful energy
lunge up stairs
speed computer type
read write flip pages no sweat
turn a key, open
a warm home
a car engine running
wheels turning
gasoline burning
working money making
saving
baking treats for parties
making amends
hugging friends
vacation days and dollars spend
walking around a park
in circles before dark
listening to the warnings
reading the news
mind open
put put put piece piece piece
in in in
go go go
careful, stop, slow
can't you hear those keys jangling
information will let you into
this room
on this day
wear this outfit
smile, say this
continue on,
blink as if it is normal


close your eyes if the rat race is too fast pace
and
let it just
whoosh
by
like
it's
no thing

free in the sun and the breeze