There is a Time and Place for Ramen

Under the awning of our porch

we huddled in warm blankets

slurped up steaming top-ramen

listened to the pounding rain

and welcomed autumn.

I'm a Gizzly Bear!

And God said,

let us make man in our image,

after our likeness:

and let them have dominion

over the fish of the sea

the big bulky monsters

filled a small creek

flowing through fields of cow patties

hundreds of them

with bodies in various states of decomposition

changing colors in clear water

looking like Christmas-zombie-fish

the mossy greens

and rusted reds

ran up and down

like lazy tiger stripes

they traveled in packs

ignoring skillfully tied flies

perfectly placed

by frustrated anglers

we were defeated

Adam and I put our fishing rods down

and took a long rest

while Matt smoked his cigar

we passed the time

throwing pebbles

at the giants

it rained earlier in the week

with nothing but sun afterward

there were lots of stagnate pools

the river had stranded

Matt noticed a monster

stuck in one of the pools

and I took off running

splashing and screaming

I’m a grizzly bear

that rascal fish

went straight through my legs

then hid under a dead branch

only to dart out again

splashing me in the face

I chased him round and round the pool

till I caught his tail with my right hand

and dragged him out

from behind a curtain of thorns

we were both exhausted

in need of a nap

had I not intervened

the poor old dog

would’ve died a virgin

without finishing

what he’d come to do

like when I went to Memphis

and nearly left without getting barbecue

it would have been tragic

as I lugged the behemoth to the main channel

cradling him in my arms so as not to drop him

he looked up at me with one of his glazed over monster-eyes

as if to say “thank-you”

or “let me go now!”

watching him swim off

I knew he’d meet some lucky hen

and the two would become one

and shortly thereafter

die.

Thanksgiving

You prepare a table before me

In the presence of my enemies;

You have anointed my head with oil;

My cup overflows

-Psalm 23

In the midst

of worrying about

money that isn’t there

frustrating relationships

and mounting school work

I walk with my head phones turned up

hoping to tune out the accompanying anxiety.

Down sunny sidewalks

I wrestle with constant nagging.

My thoughts turn to my stomach

and the mashed potatoes and turkey

I ate two days ago with my family.

I remembered the gravy

beautifully clumpy and rich

dressing laden with salt

rhubarb crisp covered in ice cream

and I smiled.

When I remembered

my cousin asking how I’d been

like she actually wanted an answer,

I nearly teared—up.

This Thanksgiving

I’m thankful

for Thanksgiving.

Four short morning poems

woke up before my alarm

after a long hot shower

I ate an easy breakfast

with a large cup of coffee

unrushed with time to read

a few psalms and the news

the sun painted the bus stop pink

women with hair still wet sniffled

you could smell a frost coming soon

breakfast is waiting

at a dinner downtown

biscuits and gravy

coffee and eggs

over-medium

where the earlier night

will be reviewed

with droggy roommates

with vague recollections

of a night that ended in the morning

and recovered from in the afternoon

under a big blue blanket

I wait for the morning to leave

the alarm has been turned off

the lethargy has been justified

in between sleep and consciousness

I rest in half-dreams

that have a nagging tone