I could tell at ‘hello’ that the day was not going well. My groceries barreled towards me. The green, red, and blue crates bounced drunkenly as she approached. She let go of the handle and the cart continued to roll and barely winced when the rusted corner smashed into her calf. Without pause she launched. ‘Day was average until 30 minutes ago. Then it went to shit.’ I grimaced then sympathized. ‘It got hot out. Must make it tougher to hustle in and out of the store. Ya know, with the temperature change.’ I was struggling. She knew it. This moment has played out before. I check in, I get engaged, I get chatty then realize I do not have enough story to navigate the waters. It’s not that I misread the moment, more like a stumble. The jolt of being brought directly into the center of the story at light speed was jarring and raw, without recovery time. ‘The kid that is suppose to come on at 4:00 called in, he’s not coming into work.’ I want to commiserate. That happened to me countless times when I was running restaurants. There’s no chance to respond. ‘My manager will expect me to stay longer… without asking specifically. He can’t actually make me stay though.’ She stared at me, dead-eyed, nodding, willing me to take a side. I remembered that moment too. My boss would avoid a direct question. He would say things like, ‘We gotta all pull together.’ And that he would, ‘Remember our commitment.’ ‘I won’t stay this time.’ She promises over her shoulder. I want to believe her. But. I stayed every time. And each time I swallowed a bait-less hook without hesitation.
assumptions
happy for what’s new here
the hand rail’s loose but it’s never made my grip slip and the window lets in light and i can read despite that small chip. there’s a next door nosey neighbour who always gets under my skin- so a fresh year, what’s the big deal, i don’t really get it. and what feels new right now is that this is how it’s always been. thinking that tomorrow, with a year change might bring me to a new scene. but if i’m being very honest i gotta choose a life that likely won’t choose me. and on top of that the wind pushes on my weak side no matter how i lean. so hoping to be saved by someone else likely won’t change me. and what feels new right now is that this is how it’s always been. with lots of hopeful small talk about people needing big change. but skipping steps in the process makes for bigger falls in a losing game. what i’ve learned is that this thinking always leads me back to someone else’s shame. walking talking with myself on this same path not knowing who to blame. and what feels new right now is that this is how it’s always been. looking backwards while running forwards makes my ghosts grin. so planning without acting is a loop that i can’t get in. and complaining that things are shit when it’s all my pile gives me no exception. it means that if i am working on it, i’m winning even though i may be suffering. and what feels new right now is that this is how it’s always been.
metricks
stats are
traps
that
make attacks
from
our gaps.
we travel
and
we trip
over rolls
and flats
trying
to max
our
forward movement
forgetting that
our fears
always
for-warn
the past.
esteem is
made trash.
hope
seems rash.
heart can
get
so broke
no cast
can bring
it back
to life.
same oath
same path
same toasts
same ghosts
same boast-
those that
can,
act.
that’s
their
test.
those that won’t
change,
brag.
and
then
count
their
steps.
and the garbage collector was listening to a Neil deGrasse Tyson podcast
at first I thought my neighbours down the street were saying their morning goodbyes. strange to hear voices echoing outdoors at 6:30 AM. 'I remember distinctly there was some instructors who just had such a facility with words …' not so strange though, I thought, that I was raking leaves at sunrise. grey morning, rain was imminent, yard work had to be done. '…and sentences and humor and tenor, where I said to myself — I knew I was interested in the universe from age nine…' somewhere on the block I could hear the groan and grind of the garbage truck. the frequent speed up and slowdown squeal meant that my pick up would be soon, but not too. '...so I’m already there. All right?' at the bend I can see the fluorescent front of a big truck, internal speakers defy dawn. in the low light I can see someone dashing from driver's side to curb and back. 'So this is not a matter of, “They got me interested.” ' the person slows as they board the truck. the dash lights reveal a thoughtful pause and a nod and a gauzy gaze out the windshield. 'No, I’m already there.' Excerpts from The Tim Ferriss Show and https://tim.blog/2019/10/15/neil-degrasse-tyson-transcript/amp/ 'Words' from Neil deGrasse Tyson
re: re
[for Dixie]
i am
skeptical of
words that start
with ‘re’.
they stand
there all
full of
assumptions-
return
remain
recover
repeat
all suggestions
that the mark
was missed a
first time
or that
there is a
place to go
back to
or that I
could have
chosen
otherwise.
but what of
the effort
taken to get
here?
I just
won’t accept
any words
that suggest
a life can
only be lived
forwards
by
undoing.
progeny
the interviewer reads a quote to the poet. the poet asks, -its stunning. who wrote that? the interview chuckles and says -you did. they are your words. the poet, surprised, says, -did i? when? the interviewer tells them the publication date. the poet nods, -well that is a long time ago then. the interviewer follows up, -how do you not remember those words? your words. the poet, smiling, -i assure you, they were never my words. the interviewer wonders, -but you wrote them? the poet, -i found them. at the tip of my pen. we had one page of time together, then parted ways. the interviewer stumbles, -what does that mean? the poet, -when i found them they refused to be seen. they were proud, raw, feral. they bit back and tried to claw their way off the page. the interviewer, wryly, -sounds like you tried to tame them. the poet clarifies, -no. fed them, yes. sheltered, likely. protected and made them safer, definitely. the interviewer, vexed, -and now? the poet, -well we had agreed to never meet again. so i am not sure what happens next. ~for Mary Oliver
words keep wolves at bay 