Here are a few totally random "gems" that I dug up.
Most of these are little sections of poetry and/or song lyrics. And one short story. Most of them are things that I banged out in tiny fits of creativity in between job responsibilities while working at the University of Washington over the past couple of years. Enjoy.
(one finished poem to start with)
Closet Light
Dammit.
I’m sorry –
this light
is
so
bright.
Couldn’t see
if the socks I was picking
out matched.
It’s so hard
to make these kinds of
important decisions
in the dark.
I
Certainly didn’t mean to wake
you.
(random beginning to a song and/or poem that I need to finish)
My lineage is poverty
My pedigree is sin
A present-day Jean Valjean
A modernized Huck Finn
My heredity subpar
Throw a noose around me, magistrate,
before I go too far.
(another random beginning w/ no ending)
Ghosts of a Flyover Town
Or why anyone would stay.
Amongst the farmers and demons - woodsmen and venom,
And the picture book clichés.
Can’t help but notice that all my friends are missing.
I guess most of them I miss.
They return for holidays and funerals - reunions and burials,
Beyond that these towns just don’t exist.
Dropped me in a hometown that only seems to exist in the past tense
Leaves me defending myself with that oft-repeated song and dance
That someday I’ll get out, someday I’ll get out.
Pedestal
It must be lonely up there
with the gargoyles and angels
And crosses and martyrs
and self-proclaimed heroes
The pedestal you stood on
cracked each time you’d flown
And the weight of your yoke
pulled you back down
The view of your struggle
is better from here.
We can all see that
your wings are on fire.
---------------------------
(and a very short story to end this entry)
Gram and Dan
The rain continued to pelt down. Sounded to Dan like thousands of BBs being dropped onto the tin roof of the one room cabin.
“S’getting cold. Rain’s startin’ to turn,” Gram said. Dan didn't even turn his head at the gravelly sound of her smoker's voice.
For weeks, Dan hadn’t even been able to see the bald eagles gliding and diving around the cannery a quarter mile from the cabin’s window. The fog and mist had seen to that. He leaned languidly on the arm of the tattered couch staring out the window into milk froth nothingness.
In small evergreen-shrouded North Pacific coastal town like this, sometimes there’s little to do but watch the birds. And when you can't see the birds, even the fir trees seem to droop at more pronounced angles than normal. Everything wilts under the weight of the weather.
Smoke from the chimney curled upward and meshed with the steel grey sky.
“Wish it would. Snow’s better. You can play in snow. Damn rain ain’t worth nothin’ unless you’re growin’ something. And that season’s over. Wish it would stop.” said Dan.
“You mind your tongue, mister,” Gram scolded. “You don’t want me get that switch down from the mantel, do ya?”
Dan turned away, his face blushing. He knew better than that.
“No, mam. I’m sorry – I know that I should watch my language.”
“Damn right, you should,” said Gram, matter-of-factly. “Young kids got no damn manners today. Your parents raised you proper. I really don’t understand where you learned to curse like that.”
Dan knew, but he’d never tell her.
