Thursday, January 28, 2010


The Cheez-its were gone by the time I got to the border. Friends met me in dark corner, where we ordered pale ales and watched a drunk become belligerent. Beaty eyes sinking behind a half-gray mustache. With crossed arms he stared at the bartender. Fucking cunts! The warning that followed was stern. Soon enough he was escorted out, flailing a bit.

Bobby said it was a good thing. I agreed. He left credits on the jukebox. Bobby played the Mighty Mighty Bosstones and I took long sips. The nostalgia and beer lead to more candor with old friends.

The bill was less than it should have been, by accident or college-town-magic. We watched DVDs until the wee hours of the morning. I should visit more.


Friday, January 22, 2010

Ephesian Musical

[This is not a poem, but I wanted to share it, and it didn't fit into the article I was writing]

Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Ephesians 5:10-20
I’d like to believe that the church in Ephesus operated like a musical for a few weeks after this letter arrived. Greeting each other with sing-songy voices and choreographed dances. I have spent more than a few moments day dreaming about a chorus taken from Ephesians 6 about the armor of God, hopefully with the refrain mentioning something about “girding your loins with truth” (Eph. 6:14).

Thursday, January 14, 2010


It’s soggy
the sidewalk is flooded
my socks are soaked and it’s still raining

It’s soggy
like home
like 8th grade touch football games
with puddle end-zones

This January trench-foot makes me home sick

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Ten More Hours

It’s been raining up here for a little over a week. The hillsides are half burnt out from a harsh summer. The water runs down fast, fills the river to over-flowing. Small trees on the bank bend with the current. The water is brown, fast, and looks serious.

The road is mostly cut into the mountain. Signs warn of rock-slides. Impromptu waterfalls send small creeks of the pavement. The turns are sharp and the drop would be steep.

There’s a hangover in passenger seat. Home is ten hours away.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

In the Bathroom of a Resort-Town Bar

The wall was covered with porn.
Classy stuff. Centerfolds with air brushed bodies
and their bios next to them.

I didn’t read the bios.
I peed with one eye open,
trying not to look
while Bob Marley came in
muffled by the door.