Poems
The Hunger of Nostalgia (2008)
The predictable rhythm of wheels on asphalt submits to the irregular attack of gravel.
Around the corner, a scrambled-together dive
Dark except for the neon shining through its mini-mart door.
Inside, the smell of beer and cigarettes inspire a nostalgia of when I sought fulfillment,
A time when my senses, like the antennae of a cockroach
Sought the trail of a hunger quenched.
A Dylanesque guitar man’s songs are Shiner Bock on a Texas afternoon,
But this is a Wild Turkey crowd--
More familiar with the grit between toes after a summer rain than the crackle of grass in a seasonal drought.
Yes, this is a Wild Turkey crowd--
Desirous of the frankness of Hank over the sensitivity of any Minnesota folkie.
As the hometowner with an old soul takes stage,
the Wild Turkey crowd gives thanks with cat calls reminiscent of a certain Willy slick with ambition.
“Inter-tayne us!” screams a man through sinking teeth as the tattooed singer’s uncle passes beers to the band.
“How ‘bout some Johnny?,” exhales the singer into stagnant air.
Another uncle shouts “Folsom Prison,” but the singer plays the honky-tonk ache of “I Still Miss Someone.”
Dancing devilishly, a blonde Angel in sticky white jeans asks, “How ya doin’?”
Loosening his tie, the dad of her old high school friend answers, “A tad bit drunk, but that’s okay.”
The Angel smiles, resuming her devilish dance, feeling the confining freedom of an act looked upon.
And with the consummation of chords, the crowd climaxes.
Waking up to yellow light the next morning,
Nostalgia scurries to my dark corners--
Yet remnants of a born again rebellion remain…
In my once-already showered hair
In the jeans that merit a Surgeon General’s warning
And in a voice aged overnight.
My senses, perhaps dulled by domesticity, remember still.
Empathy (2001)
I sat "Indian-style"
poised for story-time
when my mind conjured her
still in that white, fuzzy robe
and her face shining without make-up
in our yellow dining room
with sunshine gleaming
through streak-free windows
while she cleaned eggs off my breakfast plate
sad because I was at school
so I cried.
The predictable rhythm of wheels on asphalt submits to the irregular attack of gravel.
Around the corner, a scrambled-together dive
Dark except for the neon shining through its mini-mart door.
Inside, the smell of beer and cigarettes inspire a nostalgia of when I sought fulfillment,
A time when my senses, like the antennae of a cockroach
Sought the trail of a hunger quenched.
A Dylanesque guitar man’s songs are Shiner Bock on a Texas afternoon,
But this is a Wild Turkey crowd--
More familiar with the grit between toes after a summer rain than the crackle of grass in a seasonal drought.
Yes, this is a Wild Turkey crowd--
Desirous of the frankness of Hank over the sensitivity of any Minnesota folkie.
As the hometowner with an old soul takes stage,
the Wild Turkey crowd gives thanks with cat calls reminiscent of a certain Willy slick with ambition.
“Inter-tayne us!” screams a man through sinking teeth as the tattooed singer’s uncle passes beers to the band.
“How ‘bout some Johnny?,” exhales the singer into stagnant air.
Another uncle shouts “Folsom Prison,” but the singer plays the honky-tonk ache of “I Still Miss Someone.”
Dancing devilishly, a blonde Angel in sticky white jeans asks, “How ya doin’?”
Loosening his tie, the dad of her old high school friend answers, “A tad bit drunk, but that’s okay.”
The Angel smiles, resuming her devilish dance, feeling the confining freedom of an act looked upon.
And with the consummation of chords, the crowd climaxes.
Waking up to yellow light the next morning,
Nostalgia scurries to my dark corners--
Yet remnants of a born again rebellion remain…
In my once-already showered hair
In the jeans that merit a Surgeon General’s warning
And in a voice aged overnight.
My senses, perhaps dulled by domesticity, remember still.
Empathy (2001)
I sat "Indian-style"
poised for story-time
when my mind conjured her
still in that white, fuzzy robe
and her face shining without make-up
in our yellow dining room
with sunshine gleaming
through streak-free windows
while she cleaned eggs off my breakfast plate
sad because I was at school
so I cried.
