Prairie Home… – February 3

Posted on February 4, 2014 by landl30

2.3

He comes onstage looking

a little more disheveled than

in years past, the gray more

pronounced, the easy glide

offstage seemingly more

about saving energy now.

 

as a fellow about to be

seventy-er I commiserate, it

is still the best little show in

Minnesota, and we all take a

few more easy steps nowadays,

our shoulders bowed.

 

gravity maybe has caught up

or just ennui. he told me that

he was not ready to retire, but

maybe he forgot to tell the rest

of him. I don’t complain. The

glide offstage seems easier to

me now too.

—————————

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being frank – February 1

Posted on February 2, 2014 by landl30

2.1.2014

pinched face, tight lips

hands pressed hard

at the sides

 

it must have been hard

to be Frank, when your

sons

 

don’t respect you, even

hate you and call you

down

 

while you struggle to

put the food on the

table

 

and your wife is dying

from the cancer in

front of you

 

and your hand can’t

hold from the bottle

before

 

you put more into

the glass and again

again

 

life wandering away

right in front of

you

 

on the long drives to

do business while

thirst

 

rips at you and you

cry into the windshield.

——————

 

 

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adventuresome hearts – January 31

Posted on February 1, 2014 by landl30

1.31.14

adventuresome hearts

never

age.

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the men that walk in – January 30

Posted on January 31, 2014 by landl30

1.30

the men that walk in

are the same age as me

or younger

 

we wear the same jeans,

blue slightly worn. our

tan winter jackets and pullover

caps match.

 

and I hand them a bag

lunch or two, peanut

butter and jelly, some chips

and snacks, maybe a water

 

and they go out into the

cold while I sit and

make notes on how many

came in today

 

there but for the grace of

God. but where is the

grace for them, and why

not me out there

 

half a step from poverty

instead of deceptively secure

and warm. it is a mystery

that disturbs.

 

survivor guile, survivor guilt.

I do my part.

———————–

 

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family crockery – January 29

Posted on January 30, 2014 by landl30

 

1.29.2014

family crockery out of boxes,

chipped rose-patterned tea

pot, crystal sherbet glass

caked with dust of the years,

ceramic beer stein with

company logo for service

well done, china from england,

silver tarnished to dark fantasy

duskiness.

 

the ww I dagger with hard

knuckled handle stands at

odds to all, its own witness

to another face of those lives,

less domestic less talked

about.

 

our mugs and pots and

servers will pile up for

our heirs puzzled glances

as well. things honored

by the touch of a hand,

the breath of

specific lips.

————————

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younger eyes – January 27

Posted on January 28, 2014 by landl30

poem 1.27

younger eyes look for

older answers. away from

the distractions of

 

blare and flare, glare that

impairs.

 

younger hearts resonate

to ancient callings

that touch truths

 

that endure, ensure,

mature.

 

younger minds know

deceit when they hear

it

 

and run, shun, come

 

to the One.

——————————–

 

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the hem of his garment – January 26

Posted on January 27, 2014 by landl30

1.26

In my mind’s eye I see the

hem of a garment that

flows up out of my sight

to a large man seated

upon a throne.

 

It is such a childish image,

that I know is not real. Not

the real real. But the image

turns my prayers from vacuous

mentalspeak into something more

real as I stand sit kneel before Him.

 

The great monarch for whom

the ark of the covenant is

but a footstool centers me.

Icon, window, avenue, for

something more real than

my everyday mind can perceive.

A gift.

——————–

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oats and berries – January 25

Posted on January 26, 2014 by landl30

1.25.2014

oats, maple syrup, nuts.

granola grows on me,

tasty health food

under the guise.

 

nuts and twigs and

berries like our

ancestors gathered.

 

perhaps they knew

something.

or it was just

easier

 

than inventing the

microwave.

—————–

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razor blade winds – January 24

Posted on January 25, 2014 by landl30

1.24

frigid. wind like razor blades

on skin. what am I doing out

here. when will I know

to step inside.

 

cold of the world numbs

long before we understand

that braving it out is

only a fool’s game.

 

send me home before I

forget why I came. take

me back inside.

please.

 

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conversation – January 23

Posted on January 24, 2014 by landl30

1.23.3014

why did you have to make

the world so hard, why do

the birds have to shiver in

the branches, huddled and

diving in for seeds at the

feeder while i sit inside

admiring their colors

 

did you send us along to

figure it out and put out the

food for them, or were they

simply put here as the food

for us.

 

the questions feel stupid. like

Job asking only to get an

and where were you when

I created all this. and if I thought

I could do better I should give

it a shot.

 

or the presumption that that is

what we are doing with all

our preening and advancing

even while we roil back into

ancient Romans in our

decadence.

 

it is what it is and we flow

together. limited, mortal,

yet magical. every bit of

us. I just cry at the pain

but joy at the beauty, all

of a one. sorry for pushing.

or then again, asking is what

you set us up to do.

 

————————-

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