I need…something…something to cover,
an animal, or a log, a leaf! Yes,
a leaf, but what kind?
Banana or fig perhaps? Or palm, from a palm tree I mean,
But there are holes, slits, why
am I so worried
about slits
on the leaves?
And where is Eve?
She must not come
Not here,
Not now,
She cannot see
(me)
like
This.
But why?
What,
have I got to hide?
I feel like hiding everything,
In cabinets and safes with locks,
Deadbolts. Chains, alarm
systems, only
the best will do.
The sky splits open, the earth
feels like a tent with the roof ripped off,
A volcano, the apocalypse, a hurricane
breezy and vast,
small. I feel small.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Utah Tourism Poem
Welcome to the state of Utah!
You might have just gotten lost on your way to Vegas from Denver, but we don’t think it’s an accident.
You’ll love our world famous postmodern architecture and French cuisine.
Our picturesque mountains and wide-open desert.
We have rocks so red they entirely sway the political leaning of our state
We have so much desert, we make Saudi Arabia look like the Pacific Northwest
But come,
Visit the city of Lehi, a quaint little European town famous for their Belgian waffles and crepes
Or take a romantic boat ride down the canals of Orem.
Come on out to the Great Salt Lake and lounge on our fly ridden, rocky beaches. Is that a woman’s hand on your thigh? No, it’s a dead birds spine.
If you like women, well then you’re in luck, because its true you can marry as many as you want, as long as at least one of them is below the age of
18 feet of snow is how much snow we get in Utah and that’s just before thanksgiving. Have back problems, well good luck shoveling.
Visit the bohemian town of Sandy where hippies and crust punks alike decorate the streets with Rembrandt-like graffiti.
Did I say graffiti? I meant to say ads for breast implants!
Did I say hippies? I meant to say people who drive hummers.
Like alcohol? So do we, which is why we made sure you can purchase alcohol at any of our three state-run liquor stores. Besides Sunday they’re open at least 12 hours a week.
We’ve also made sure that you can no longer get daily discounts on liquor or higher than 3.2 alcohol percentage in your beer, because we want everyone to see how great our Wasatch mountain river water makes the beer taste.
Sure, you could go skiing on the mountains or climbing in the desert, but who wants to do that when you could be waiting in line to get your very own nude Republicans calendar signed and autographed by Glenn Beck himself, while he holds a baby, an American flag and a shotgun in the same hand.
Do you like socialism? Liberal politics? You’ll love our progressive legislature, run by some of the most forward thinking individuals since the USSR.
These rich white men always have the best interests of the people in mind, especially the poor.
Do you like shopping centers and strip malls that look exactly like other shopping centers and strip malls halfway across the country
Do you like diversity? Or handguns? Well we only have lots of one of these and I can guarantee you that most people are scared more by one than the other.
Our state symbol is the beehive, because we’re the only state north of Guatemala to have, that’s right, killer bees.
Are you 16 and looking to get married? Come to Utah!
The 24th of July is more of a celebration than the fourth of July, but neither of these are anything compared to the amount of fireworks that’ll shoot off in your head when you discover the T.V. show Touched by an Angel was filmed right here.
You might have just gotten lost on your way to Vegas from Denver, but we don’t think it’s an accident.
You’ll love our world famous postmodern architecture and French cuisine.
Our picturesque mountains and wide-open desert.
We have rocks so red they entirely sway the political leaning of our state
We have so much desert, we make Saudi Arabia look like the Pacific Northwest
But come,
Visit the city of Lehi, a quaint little European town famous for their Belgian waffles and crepes
Or take a romantic boat ride down the canals of Orem.
Come on out to the Great Salt Lake and lounge on our fly ridden, rocky beaches. Is that a woman’s hand on your thigh? No, it’s a dead birds spine.
If you like women, well then you’re in luck, because its true you can marry as many as you want, as long as at least one of them is below the age of
18 feet of snow is how much snow we get in Utah and that’s just before thanksgiving. Have back problems, well good luck shoveling.
Visit the bohemian town of Sandy where hippies and crust punks alike decorate the streets with Rembrandt-like graffiti.
Did I say graffiti? I meant to say ads for breast implants!
Did I say hippies? I meant to say people who drive hummers.
Like alcohol? So do we, which is why we made sure you can purchase alcohol at any of our three state-run liquor stores. Besides Sunday they’re open at least 12 hours a week.
We’ve also made sure that you can no longer get daily discounts on liquor or higher than 3.2 alcohol percentage in your beer, because we want everyone to see how great our Wasatch mountain river water makes the beer taste.
Sure, you could go skiing on the mountains or climbing in the desert, but who wants to do that when you could be waiting in line to get your very own nude Republicans calendar signed and autographed by Glenn Beck himself, while he holds a baby, an American flag and a shotgun in the same hand.
Do you like socialism? Liberal politics? You’ll love our progressive legislature, run by some of the most forward thinking individuals since the USSR.
These rich white men always have the best interests of the people in mind, especially the poor.
Do you like shopping centers and strip malls that look exactly like other shopping centers and strip malls halfway across the country
Do you like diversity? Or handguns? Well we only have lots of one of these and I can guarantee you that most people are scared more by one than the other.
Our state symbol is the beehive, because we’re the only state north of Guatemala to have, that’s right, killer bees.
Are you 16 and looking to get married? Come to Utah!
The 24th of July is more of a celebration than the fourth of July, but neither of these are anything compared to the amount of fireworks that’ll shoot off in your head when you discover the T.V. show Touched by an Angel was filmed right here.
He Had Always Wanted to Go to Europe
He had always wanted to go to Europe. Or South America. The two locations held what, in his mind, were the necessary ingredients to a happier life. But they were distant, both financially and logistically, and of course, geographically. He thought of these countries in the same way as he thought of falling in love with a woman. Lovely, and yet a remote possibility. Something had always prevented him from going, he felt. There was school to finish, a career to start. His father had always pressed upon him the idea of stability. There was the time he went broke from trying to start a small business. There was the time his mother got sick, and died.
And then, there was the philosophical opposition in his mind against traveling. It wasn’t because he was a square, or neurotic, or too straight-laced, or something like that. In fact it was quite the opposite. He was adventurous, whimsical, and possessed exactly the average amount of courage, as was the norm for everyone else. Rather, it was in his nature to be different that kept him from travelling. These days, everyone traveled, he thought. Everyone studies abroad and travels to Spain after they graduate from college. His sister was in France this moment with one of her sorority friends, drinking wine and pretending they were cultured and adventurous. She had probably slept with someone, some young French artist, it would have been the thing to do.
He thought of travelling as a bourgeoisie luxury. He didn’t want to be living a life of bourgeoisie luxury.
So when someone had offered him the chance to go to Belgium for a rather unusual task, he didn’t know what to say.
“John,” they said. “We would like you to go to Belgium, our nephew, well….he broke his leg. He was drunk and missed his train to Luxembourg. He was traveling the world, first with friends, and then by himself. He was scheduled to go home the next day. He would like some help getting back. Our little precious you know, he’s nineteen.”
“Why, me?” he asked.
“Well, you’ve always been such a hard worker for us, and, well, you don’t have a girlfriend, or a family, do you?”
He shook his head.
“And well…” the woman faltered in her speech at this point “…you’ve seemed a little, well, mopey lately.”
“Mopey?”
“Well, yes, I mean sad, not like, lazy.”
Her husband shook his head in agreement.
He, John, didn’t say anything.
He was halfway to Belgium at midnight the next day, flying over the Atlantic Ocean. His employer’s nephew was waiting for him in the Hilton. John could barely contain his excitement to be in Europe. This other kid however, his name was Chad, or Chuck, something like that, was depressed and tired of Europe. They had three days before their plane left. John wanted to go explore the city. And so he did. He went on a train, he went a canal ride and he walked the streets. He ate waffles and drank coffee and smoked cigarettes on an outdoor patio. Drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes on an outdoor patio beneath a Venetian sort of hanging was something he had always wanted to do. This other kid, Charlie or whatever, just sat in the Hotel watching American Reality T.V. shows.
A week later, he was back. The nephew, returned safely, his older employers happy, and he, John, had visited Europe. Now that he had visited Europe however, he was not sure what else he had to look forward to.
And then, there was the philosophical opposition in his mind against traveling. It wasn’t because he was a square, or neurotic, or too straight-laced, or something like that. In fact it was quite the opposite. He was adventurous, whimsical, and possessed exactly the average amount of courage, as was the norm for everyone else. Rather, it was in his nature to be different that kept him from travelling. These days, everyone traveled, he thought. Everyone studies abroad and travels to Spain after they graduate from college. His sister was in France this moment with one of her sorority friends, drinking wine and pretending they were cultured and adventurous. She had probably slept with someone, some young French artist, it would have been the thing to do.
He thought of travelling as a bourgeoisie luxury. He didn’t want to be living a life of bourgeoisie luxury.
So when someone had offered him the chance to go to Belgium for a rather unusual task, he didn’t know what to say.
“John,” they said. “We would like you to go to Belgium, our nephew, well….he broke his leg. He was drunk and missed his train to Luxembourg. He was traveling the world, first with friends, and then by himself. He was scheduled to go home the next day. He would like some help getting back. Our little precious you know, he’s nineteen.”
“Why, me?” he asked.
“Well, you’ve always been such a hard worker for us, and, well, you don’t have a girlfriend, or a family, do you?”
He shook his head.
“And well…” the woman faltered in her speech at this point “…you’ve seemed a little, well, mopey lately.”
“Mopey?”
“Well, yes, I mean sad, not like, lazy.”
Her husband shook his head in agreement.
He, John, didn’t say anything.
He was halfway to Belgium at midnight the next day, flying over the Atlantic Ocean. His employer’s nephew was waiting for him in the Hilton. John could barely contain his excitement to be in Europe. This other kid however, his name was Chad, or Chuck, something like that, was depressed and tired of Europe. They had three days before their plane left. John wanted to go explore the city. And so he did. He went on a train, he went a canal ride and he walked the streets. He ate waffles and drank coffee and smoked cigarettes on an outdoor patio. Drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes on an outdoor patio beneath a Venetian sort of hanging was something he had always wanted to do. This other kid, Charlie or whatever, just sat in the Hotel watching American Reality T.V. shows.
A week later, he was back. The nephew, returned safely, his older employers happy, and he, John, had visited Europe. Now that he had visited Europe however, he was not sure what else he had to look forward to.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
The Weather
I wonder what we would talk about, if we could no longer talk about the weather
What other topics of conversation can you have with complete strangers that don’t begin with, “nice day” or “it’s cold out?”
What if the weather was neither good nor bad, it just was? And it was as constant as death so you could no longer say things like “hear a cold front’s coming through” because you would know.
What if there were no weather predictions or prophesies about the clouds coming in or the sun getting hotter?
What would we have to talk about?
You can’t talk about politics, you say something about being conservative or being liberal and you’re bound to offend someone at sometime.
You can’t talk about the government because some people want less and others want more and some want none at all.
I guess you could talk about movies. Movies are pretty safe, but then again you might like chic flicks and I might like art films. but then if you like Nicholas Cage he is in neither and if you do like Nicholas Cage well then I don’t really know what to say to you at all.
I guess you could talk about the stock market and whether you need a plunger for all the plunging that’s happening or a glass of champagne for all the money you’re making.
But let’s face it, I don’t really want to make small talk about the market, because then we’ll get into a discussion about capitalism, and greed, and I’ll probably disagree with you.
I guess we could talk about sports, that’s pretty neutral, but I know nothing about sports, so I’d probably make some comment about how that basket ball team needs to make more touchdowns.
Or maybe we could talk about something more personal and when I asked you how your day was going instead of responding, “well, the weather sucks,”
maybe you would be so vulnerable as to tell me about how you feel lonely, frustrated, like a bird trapped against a window,
and how you only wish you could break through the glass but those addictions got teeth into and you’re not sure if you’ll ever see sky again.
Instead of small talk we could make honest talk, but sometimes I get uncomfortable undressing in front of strangers.
Maybe we could talk about how our house needs more insulation or less, and how our closet door won’t shut right cause the damn hinges are broken.
But I think we need somewhere to direct our frustration
I think we need the clouds, whether they’re black and swirling, or white and twirling
I think we need days when it rains too much and days and days when the sun’s too hot and days when it’s so cold it feels like you could break the air with an axe.
Because sometimes, we just need to be able to say, this weather sucks.
What other topics of conversation can you have with complete strangers that don’t begin with, “nice day” or “it’s cold out?”
What if the weather was neither good nor bad, it just was? And it was as constant as death so you could no longer say things like “hear a cold front’s coming through” because you would know.
What if there were no weather predictions or prophesies about the clouds coming in or the sun getting hotter?
What would we have to talk about?
You can’t talk about politics, you say something about being conservative or being liberal and you’re bound to offend someone at sometime.
You can’t talk about the government because some people want less and others want more and some want none at all.
I guess you could talk about movies. Movies are pretty safe, but then again you might like chic flicks and I might like art films. but then if you like Nicholas Cage he is in neither and if you do like Nicholas Cage well then I don’t really know what to say to you at all.
I guess you could talk about the stock market and whether you need a plunger for all the plunging that’s happening or a glass of champagne for all the money you’re making.
But let’s face it, I don’t really want to make small talk about the market, because then we’ll get into a discussion about capitalism, and greed, and I’ll probably disagree with you.
I guess we could talk about sports, that’s pretty neutral, but I know nothing about sports, so I’d probably make some comment about how that basket ball team needs to make more touchdowns.
Or maybe we could talk about something more personal and when I asked you how your day was going instead of responding, “well, the weather sucks,”
maybe you would be so vulnerable as to tell me about how you feel lonely, frustrated, like a bird trapped against a window,
and how you only wish you could break through the glass but those addictions got teeth into and you’re not sure if you’ll ever see sky again.
Instead of small talk we could make honest talk, but sometimes I get uncomfortable undressing in front of strangers.
Maybe we could talk about how our house needs more insulation or less, and how our closet door won’t shut right cause the damn hinges are broken.
But I think we need somewhere to direct our frustration
I think we need the clouds, whether they’re black and swirling, or white and twirling
I think we need days when it rains too much and days and days when the sun’s too hot and days when it’s so cold it feels like you could break the air with an axe.
Because sometimes, we just need to be able to say, this weather sucks.
Friday, June 17, 2011
MPAA Ratings
The reshooting of Robin Hood as described by the seven year old kid I live with, will be rated PG-13 for graphics, violence, and fires, according to the crayon poster hanging in our kitchen.
Prophetic Love
Perhaps I had a few drinks. Perhaps I was very tired from opening early yesterday with no time for a nap. But I had a religious experience last night. It involved Bon Iver and a photograph. I was listening to Bon Iver’s new album on NPR and, just as I hoped, it was beautiful and sad and rich in every good way, and just as I was really getting into it, you know like how it sometimes takes a couple listens at first, I saw a photograph that my friend Justin posted. Normally I would not think much of it, maybe write something on his wall like, “Dude, cool.” But it struck me in a very profound way. As I’m sure you’ve seen by now, the photograph is of a couple kissing in the middle of the street behind a riot officer and in front of a fire. What is happening? The Vancouver Riots. Because the only thing Canadians will riot for is hockey.
The photograph makes you stop. For one, it is a bit lewd, I know. You can pretty much see the girl’s ass. But it is alarming and surprising and beautiful, because here is a couple completely consumed with their love—out of touch with the riots happening around them or the fact that there is a SWAT officer and a fire within ten feet of them. I’m not sure how long the kiss went on for, it could have been ten minutes, it could have been one second. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that this picture is a prophetic picture.
I thought of it as a metaphor for subversive love in a riotous world. How incredible would it be if our love could look like this? What if we didn’t care as the world burned around us? What if we were so consumed with our love for another person, a city, God, that our love caused others to stop and wonder “Who in the world has time for a kiss at a moment like this?”
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Good Friday Poem (Rough Draft)
My God, My God,
How did it come to this?
Blood in the garden
Fists clenched
palms of dirt
My closest friends
Tired, asleep,
incapable of even one night of solidarity
This cannot be the only way
Why are so far from saving me?
So far from the words of my groaning?
This all started out as such a great idea
Where are you now?
This doesn’t look like redemption
This looks like a boxing fight gone bad
A marriage torn to shreds
kisses turned to cold, distant stares
A broken shovel in the field
A naked body in a ditch
You cannot possibly believe that this is the way people will know?
You cannot be so naïve
For the first time, I feel utterly powerless,
Gazing over the edge of a cliff, my imminent and inevitable descent
An eternal garbage dump awaiting me
I feel it now,
It’s black gates swallowing, licking
I am a worm and not a man
Scorned by men and despised by people
All who see me mock me
Raging bulls surround me
I am poured out like water
Bones out of joint
My heart has turned to wax,
Melted away beneath me
Tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth
Like dried leaves
They divide my garments among them
Gambling for the shirt on my back
Where is your salvation?
I thought you were making all things new?
Reconciling all things to yourself?
Where are you right now?
Tsunamis, earthquakes, revolutions, human trafficking
How is this even close to what you promised?
I have never felt
so
alone
My God, My God
Why have you left us?
Where is your victory?
All I can taste is defeat, shattered dreams, my broken body hurling itself towards death,
My legs are
so
tired
my lungs
can’t
keep
up.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)