writing

How I Spent my Summer Vacation

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Greg wore thick-rimmed glasses,

had meticulously,

parted and slicked-back hair,

wore a white button-down

and freshly-pressed slacks

every single day.

CLIK-atik.

“Here’s a picture at Niagara falls with Molly,”

They stood in front of the famous formation,

Facing our neighboring northern nation,

Looking uncannily like a modern American Gothic.

CLIK-atik.

Molly smiled lovingly,

but had nothing much to say,

aside from “Greg, honey, get out of the way”

As his shadow was blocking the projection

of the spectacular cascade.

CLIK-atik.

“After we crossed the border

We drank a few beers, and ordered poutine.”

Someone from the sea of folding chairs called-out mid-yawn,

“Greg you’re the only person I know who would summer in Canada.”

Molly smiled again.

She knew more than most about Greg,

Who found excitement in the routine,

and archaic.

CLIK-atik.

The whirring machine,

Was so old that it seemed,

Ready to come apart,

In a tumult of loose-screws,

and dustbunnies.

CLIK-atik.

“Hey look! A moose!”

Greg didn’t lie,

but the picture was from such a distance,

that it was hard to make-out,

the animal.

“They’re pretty dangerous,

so we stayed clear.”

CLIK-atik.

A black title card,

With the word “FIN,”

Written minimally,

Spelled the end of the slideshow.

CLIK-atik.

His favorite part of the trip,

and his life,

was sharing the experience,

with his friends,

family,

and wife,

Long after he left.

Vestigial Structures

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Long ago my ancestors left the trees 

with their tailbones tucked between their legs,

and they turned out fine.

Snakes did the same

And grew out their spines,

More than I could ever hope to,

Lost some things along the way

And are still with us today.

Who needs tonsils anyway?

Consult the appendix,

All you like,

You won’t find a good reason.

“All these pieces of me,

From yesteryear,

Are still here,”

I said, getting goosebumps.

If my flaws make me human,

Then what about the leftovers,

From when I definitely wasn’t?

In doing what it takes to survive,

You cannot afford,

To go back to the drawing board,

And you can’t correct the record,

When your body is the archive.

Codebreakers

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There is simply no way

to not communicate.

But there are times

When direct quotations

must masquerade

as pointless noise.

Working backwards,

the cipher takes

a clear line

of thought,

ties it into

a Gordian knot,

and casts it in to the ether,

to be parsed out,

piece-by-piece

by one side

or another.

Brilliant mathematicians,

turned prospectors,

decrypt, ascribe

and sift for grains of truth,

or pertinent words

in the cloud of deception.

Polarization

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Touts may tempt you,

To don rose-colored glasses,

Shouting:

“We can help you draw,

The finest lines,

With no more glare.

Blot out all aberrations,

Lock them out,

So that the spectrum is laid bare.”

Beware of blinders,

There is no one-size-fits-all approach,

To perception.

Light ricochets,

Unpredictably,

But without the full range,

You cannot expect,

Clear sight.

Bad Vibes

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It turns out,

Saying “don’t be nervous,”

Is a great way,

To be counterproductive.

Fear is self-sabotage,

And more often than not,

Fired in an unexpected,

Barrage.

Like a bull in a china shop,

It raises hell,

And won’t stop,

Prancing,

And dancing all over,

Your most precious,

Fabergé eggshells.

The floor,

Wasn’t a great place,

To put those,

If I’m being honest.

But that’s not important,

Anymore,

Because it’s time to acknowledge,

These animals in the room.

Quick,

Go get some tweezers,

And glue,

While I patch up,

The kicked-down door,

So no more,

Come through.

 

Kowloon Walled City

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I’ve built you up quite a bit,

And I’m finding it harder and harder,

To leave than ever before.

If I could see in here,

I’d find unwound wires,

That cross-cross the cracks,

In the concrete,

And trickles of tap water,

That run down your façade.

But being off-the-grid,

Has it’s own advantages-

If walls could talk,

They’d tell you that,

We reach high here,

In spite of what we’re missing.

No sunrise goes unseen,

People stand on their balconies,

With nothing,

And also everything they need.

ATP

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In trying times,

deep down inside —

you will find that

you are, indeed,

strengthened by division.

To rouse the energy,

to walk to the kitchen,

you must first

burn some molecular bridges.

Not to worry,

it won’t be painful,

the connections themselves,

were tenuous at best.

Throw the planks,

into that churning,

eternally burning,

internal furnace

of yours.

Congratulations,

you have metabolized.

Now you can take action,

or perform mundane tasks,

whichever comes first.

Fault Lines 

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Sudden unbelievable stress,

Has proven too much,

For two-halves,

Of a whole.

“I-I thought I had it,”

The subsided end stammered,

Visibly panicking.

“Look at this mess you’ve made,”

Said the hanging wall,

Haranguing,

His peer.

There was much tension,

So aftershocks,

Seemed likely.

“That’s easy for you to say,”

Said the footwall,

“You’re in no position to judge,”

Feeling their grip,

Slightly budge.

“This is aggravating,”

Said the risen end,

“This is strenuous,”

Their continued harmony,

Seemed tenuous.

They continued,

To point fingers,

As one side fled,

To bury it’s head,

And the other,

Bottled it up,

For a future,

Outburst.

Maple Syrup

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The fork and knife,

Rest comfortably,

Side by side

On the table.

Holding the plate,

Up to my face,

I lapped away,

The last remnants,

Of breakfast.

Bits of pancake,

And scrambled eggs,

Encased in sweet amber,

Like a less depressing,

La Brea Tar Pit.

Color me an opportunist,

It would be in poor taste,

To let good food,

Fossilize.

The Life of a Write-Off

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The ceiling,

Had an impromptu,

Skylight,

And fluffy, pink,

Fiberglass tufts,

Showed through,

Holes in the drywall.

The driveway had huge crevices,

From the refreezing,

Ice-cleavers,

That come and go,

With each Winter.

A flexing frame,

Made vascular,

By tunneling termites,

And shifts,

Caused by cracks,

In the foundation.

The whole thing,

Collapsed eventually,

Without warning,

When no one was looking.

Decomposition,

Can drag on,

For years at a time,

Then destruction,

Finishes,

In an instant.