We are all, always running away. I think at some point we have to accept that some people are not meant to stay still. They are always running away. But then again, who doesn’t? Why don’t we do it more? Just like we have to accept that some people don’t want children. Some people play…
Another meaty metal body Dangles in midair. Barely seems Suspended; perhaps the Fog holds up its mass and All the lives within. Autopilot disengaged we Route around the weather Rather, we watch La La Land On matchbook screens and Clutch our dancing coffees While Dan the Man takes Berth around a storm maker. I pull down the…
I wonder what JFK would have to say If he, on the occasion of spring break, Found his flight cancelled. And thus re-booked for such an early a.m. Could not decline the logic of overnighting JFK Queens Radisson. Took the AirTrain to the hotel shuttle to The recently remodeled lobby and The second floor with…
In Philadelphia, the quiet car fills up completely– so completely that I can’t keep my screen hidden from my seat mate. I don’t know him, but I know enough that he was kind. He gave up his window seat to a couple so that they could sit together. From WAS to PHI, the quiet car…
I heard: “Big Sur is calling to me” and here’s what happened to me. I immediately felt the grey, El Nino winter that that I spent in California, in 1999. I was working in a restaurant in Kansas City at the time a place that was renovating. All the staff was given 6 weeks vacation,…
I need a vacation. Let’s all insert here for a minute the list of blessings I have. Nice house Good family Everything I need and want (food, clothing, shelter) Friends Education Human Rights Time to meditate and do yoga Lots of good books, and a library card too. Many more OK, even in the face…
Glassy days– Across the fields Crows can’t be bothered. Hot summer car rides Roads lounging into Forever. Windscreen winks at Passing clouds.
I-74Across the Mississippi–That Familiar vein throughMy life I Cross this morning east.Your still flatness hides Lonely strongCurrentsPulling me back. Day 9, A River of Stones
…And Other Existential Observations on Home My colleague (we both teach at university) said, quite innocently: “I guess I don’t think of Wisconsin as the Midwest.” This while I was rapping a heavy mix of Madison virtues and Midwest easiness. “Oh,” she said when I called up the map. “I guess I thought it was…
On the road, in a car, weaving through the hills, we listened alternately to the sound of radio palpitating, or the body sounds the car spewed coughs or chuckles, the careening of hot tires communing with pavement. That tree flying is a Norway maple, twisting toward the sunlight– just the same as the one, still…
