Reeds outside the Hotel at 6 AM

The 5'th of April, YOOL 2021

“Got up later than normal due to a combination of pizza, beers, waffles, and cigarettes. Checking on our boat over the weekend, brought us to the watershed of our first meeting.”

Gonna cheat today and just give you the last 2 days’ poems, the first I hated when I wrote it, but now think it’s pretty good. The second I loved when I conceived it and now feel indeterminate about it. Why am I telling you this? Hypnotizing your experience before it happens? Because I want to rid myself of the illusion I don’t care about public perception. I do, and it’s a great way to motivate myself to do something like write 30 poems in 30 days, but it also comes with a cost. Having removed the Twitter app, not using Facebook except every few weeks, I can feel the impact of positive/negative comments a little like the smell of my favorite brand of cigarettes when I’m not smoking. I’m thrilled it has become an object rather than a motivating subject but in the interest of transparency, I can lie to myself but strive to be truthful to you dear, dear readers.

How it happened, Part 1: 
Having a cigarette in the country of my birth
Con/Jur/d, 4/4/2021

This is how it happened,

Before they taught borders,
bound by family,
Blood ties,
we

ran
waddled crawled
towards the danger
fast shiny on asphalt

“No,”
cuts deep,
big gods familiar
bodies of pleasure, pain,

saw him one last
time still alive,
my wedding,
cigarette

hand,
I hadn’t
given up yet
playing with the fire.

No Surprise when I
realized this hotel,
in morning
light

stood
where forty
years ago his
broken home had been.

Our immense lives ashed
become small memories,
swirling dawn,
smoke.



How it happened Part 2
Crow and Tree, Con/Jur/d, 4/5/2021

Skyline,
The boys and their banana seat bikes
had left me at the intersection, of day 
and night, an unfamiliar fallow field, 
a hot dirt trail, dusty smell of rapid 
cooling, bordered by tall grass and reeds, 
an indigo deeper shade of shadow.


I try,
and fail to find a memory whispering
of why? We were already late for dinner 
our flexible curfews,  casualties crushed 
by a day spent caterwauling across 
Sun-drenched stages for future
productions of urban development,
“Wilds Destruction,” a cast of thousands.

Was it,
because I was a new kid unfamiliar
with gang rules, discomforted by
primate signals, their goading, harsh
or did I decide to leave on
my own, my Mother’s backyard call
unheard, canceled by crickets
and a single cavernous crying caw

A crow,
on a dead tree, a backdrop
giant ruling hillside tangles,
communicates, “Alone, alone.”
And I know what it means here,
“Death, dissolution, abandonment,” 
a space, little kids are not welcome.

Sun rays,
wink out, the contours of evening
are filled with hidden tigers, every
breeze a sinewy snake snatching
at exposed ankles, a bicycle a poor
choice of weapon. Fear drives pedals.

Around,
the next bend and the curve after
that, past a riotous swamp, frog
croaks pelting, “Run, ride, run!”
Twilight in a familiar orchard,
breaks open Terror’s hard hug,
a window in the distance grinds
the mad beating to a warm halt.

I’d like,
to tell you how it happened, but
a crow and nothing, happened, after all.