Bummer in the Summer 1
See the Dawn 2
Sick 3
Poverty in a Town with a Low Cost of Living 4
Nothing in the Sky Responds 5

BUMMER IN THE SUMMER

listen, listen, listen here
this, this, this that you hear
is a bummer of a summer
but i shout back at it
from my attic:
try to drown me, lake, and i will learn to float.
cut my foot, rock, and, i will wash the wound.
sting me, bees, and i won't mind the numbing skin.
i don't know where o where to begin:
you, clouds, are the same color as my pencil
& with it i'll draw what will become a stencil
a raincloud image to be sprayed on the doors
of all who have wronged me

SEE THE DAWN

you could make pancakes in this heat
by dropping batter on the pavement
all is hazy and my eyes squint constantly
on the back deck my friend & i
we will share organic food and beer
we'll let the waterfall fill the silences
later we'll bike through the night
through the centers of the streets
past places we've tried forgetting
at home with my mother & father
the scene is familiar
i really don't think it could be better
i won't go to bed
until the darkness is dead
i won't shut my eyes until
this nighttime dies
i won't fall asleep
until i have seen the dawn rise e

SICK

"summer" used to go in the same breath as "vacation"
now it is lonesomeness, a miniature playground,
and rooftops where i once drew on foggy windows
everyone is tired from too much work
and no one has enough money to have any fun
i'm sick of sweat
i'm sick of saying sorry
i'm sick of storytelling

POVERTY IN A TOWN WITH A LOW COST OF LIVING

ride the bus day by day
and watch my town glide
i always see it in slow motion segments:
each place holds signifigance that grows distant
you walk around the bus station
to shorten the wait &
because it is empty and creepy
by the time you turn the corner
it has filled right up
a middle aged man strums a guitar
and it possibily all he knows to do
a pregnant girl in hardly any clothing
speeds up sadly to not miss anything
this is infinitely depressing
poverty in a town with a low cost of living

NOTHING IN THE SKY RESPONDS

driving out past nowhere
blasting songs the way we used to
going to the sketchy 24 hour doughnut shop
cursing, spitting, smoking, and clapping
look above the pines and there you might find
a week alone, cooking for my friends,
rolling around on the carpet with the cat
happy humans dance to celtic fiddle
on a porch not far from the street
where "art walk" is scrawled on a mattress
up against a tall tree.
our talk of pop music as fine art
and laughter resonates through the wide streets.
another travelling day of sleeplessness
imagining how someone might say
"i am happy to see you."