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right foot, pavement, tap
left foot, concrete, step
sprocket, ratcheting, tick
right foot, pedal, click
left foot, crank, spin
eyes, horizon, narrow
right hand, gear selector, click
left foot, crank, pull
right foot, pedal, push
left hand, grip, tighten
right hand, gear selector, click
dérailleur, rear cog, shift
left foot, spin, faster
right leg, piston, fire
right hand, gear selector, click
left piston, fire, accelerate
crankset, spin, whirl
right hand, gear selector, click
left hand, brake, lean
crank, spin, faster
wind, ears, howl
left crank, whirl, blurr
right piston, rotate, push
right gear, click, hand
fire left, piston, spin
one machine
spinning…
whirling…
whorling…
rear hand, click, select
leg crank, blur, rotate
right leg, crank, coast
left brake, hand, pull
brake hand, rear caliper, squeeze
right hand, grip, brake
left foot, pavement, tap
right foot, concrete, step
breathe in
breathe out
out
in
destination? ha!
180 degrees
sprocket, ratcheting, tick
right foot, pedal, click
left foot, crank, spin…
to be a butterfly
to emerge not once but
twice on this earth
at first so humbly
caterpillaring around
consuming, anticipating
chrysalis
its a fun word we don’t
get to use enough
unfolding, unwrapping
wings drying, beholding
a universally accepted beauty
fluttering — notice,
we never say flapping
proboscis, curled
for two weeks
burning the candle
at both ends
a vacation for
the soul, after a long
lifetime of work
then back to the pool
ready for human form,
again — time to grow
The concrete sears as painfully as every other surface under the penetrating white glow of the afternoon sun. Nicholas Carreure’s neck sloughs the sticky residue of one dried bout of perspiration after another. His blonde locks have become saturated, as has the headband keeping the sweat off his brow. White skin has yielded to reddish burns, excepting that raccoon-ish area around his eyes, thanks to a pair of dutiful sunglasses. His muscles burn, not only from the temperatures, but from having pushed this far. But the day is not over, and motivations are as peaked as the mountain ranges just barely coming into view on the horizon.
This service station, which may yet prove to be nothing more than an oasis, is sufficient–at least for fixing a flat. The meager shade of the overhang provides only minimal relief from the direct sun; escaping the sweltering winds is another challenge altogether.
Nobody occupies this island among wastelands save the attendant, a man far too weathered for his age, whose soiled blue baseball cap seems more at home on his head than his own hair, which takes its directions from the whims of the wind. His long-sleve cotton plaid hangs loosely from his dehydrated body as he shifts his weight into a stance of equal parts curiosity and disappointment, knowing he won’t be making a sale from the pedal-powered fellow who just walked his cycle up to the curb. It is possible that few bicycles ever pass through this desolate desert-within. Or perhaps they never make it this far…
Hands covered with grease and road grime, Nick begins to work the bead off the rim when a dusty red pickup truck slides into the closest parking space, raising a choking cloud of particulate, and letting loose a shower of gravel which plinks and ticks itself against Nick’s helmet and shins.
“Heya there, a-migo!” says the driver as he trades places with the vehicles door. He is dressed not unlike the attendant, but his curly black hair is uncovered, and is as dusty as Nick’s has recently become. A matching black moustache curls the corners of his mouth but is well trimmed. He moves with the haste of someone who is used to dodging sunlight, making his way into a sliver of shade–the same under which Nick found refuge.
Leaning in for a closer look, he exclaims “I’m Cal…you havin’ tire trouble?!?”
You’ve worked high
and you’ve worked low
for most of your years;
its been quite a show!
By aeroplane and automobile
your been near, and gone far.
On the wide road of work,
you’ve been a fast car!
Despite the long hours,
and with kids at your feet,
you put pen to paper
and made the ends meet.
You may have left work,
but your work is not done–
life is an adventure
and this part is so fun!
Because the measure of a man
isn’t in a gold watch,
or a pat on the back
from an overbearing boss…
And nor is it Who He Was
and What He Did,
but instead is Who He Is
and What He Does
So love the past
for delivering today;
but what happens tomorrow
is yours to say!
Thank you for
all the work you’ve done;
for the opportunities you’ve given
to your looney-bin son.
You can go outside
and relax in the sun.
Or do anything else
that sounds like good fun.
I love you, Dad.
30 you’re just
a number, too but
still my life shatters
on your approach but
by the time you arrive
i’m reassembling
devoid of
kings horses and
kings men
i’m forced to
gather the
pieces myself
but since these
little jagged bits
are already crumbled
i’m finding a
better way to
put them together.
I will soak
through to the bone
some rainy days
Some scorching days
my skin will die
ultra-violently
on desolate others
I won’t talk to
a soul
or the ones i see
will treat me like
a nuisance
some fearful days
i will cry because
i miss you
on loving days
i will laugh because
we’re so close!
a god
disguised as
a vagrant
but then
also vagrants
are god
transforming
from knowledge
to experience
creating a path
from asphalt and
inspiration
would you like
to know the
deepest secret?
held between
the road, the bike,
and me?
:
.
(i am free!)
#include stdio.h
#include universe.h
#include compassion.h
#include humor.h
define life() {
create();
contemplate();
learn();
teach();
love();
cry();
live();
}
main() {
while(body) {
life(enthusiastically);
body++;
}
die(0);
}
98.6
you’re just a number
why must you elude me
while I want for
nothing but
continuity
all i get instead
are your waves of
hot and cold
manipulating my body
like the throes
of a rollercoaster
i want to jump off this
click-clacking tormentor,
and hit the ground
one way or
another but preferably
feet first
your electrons;
press them closely to my electrons.
the repulsion of negatively charged particles
never felt so attractive.
