thinning out

definitely fewer people
out making loops,
it seems to me.
watch them pass
going around the block
or where they go, usually.
not counting how many, you see,
notice is all. it happens.

can't stall the temperature rising.
for sure, rising. noticing that too.
 yeah, and it is easy to take.
can enjoy the out of doors.
i think of the lake.
and paths through the woods.
we are given well.

Hot

this is the opposite
of winter.  all the things
you can think of. all the
food and clothes, places
 to go, what to do. here is
summer giving you a hug.
laying it all on a table nicely
set with the finest silverware,
napkins, glasses, soft music,
smells from the kitchen,
and you ready for it all.  like
your dreams. complete.

seventh month

we never called the month by number
although it's recognizable.
the number name emits a flavor.
seems solid.
here's another particular to month seven:
lightening bugs, an all-around favorite.
they too have their season; this one, and we love 'em.
the reason is obvious,
they've come up with
something beautiful and unique.

when they begin to show

they don't sting and they
don't make any noise.
you want to follow them around.

keeping words lined

keeping words lined
to the point, I wasn't sure of
the significance when I wrote those
words until I looked at the cement birdbath
and saw it on the ground.
catastrophe.

no doubt squirrel brought it down,
jumping on the edge. not continuously,
a jump at a time, and hanging on the
side until he brought it down.
i say he because i'm not used to animal talk
where you say which animal without
reference to sex.

the squirrel didn't break, merely upset the heavy dish.
This is living in harmony with animals,
with the animals kept outside.
where they ought to be.
Squirrel especially.

To think a few years ago i fed
one squirrel by hand.
and keeping words lined,
 like you, i don't know what it means.

return

where dream world is,
i keep going

two some from B4

Saturday, November 12, 2011

industrial music please

the industrial music on TV Oh Boy
during wake-up early Saturday morning off-hours
when no sane sponsor would pay a dime to advertise
ergo there was nothing decent to view

we watched until it made us tap our feet in joy
to see new clean shiny bottles passing by,
row on row, on conveyor belts,
endless bottles sans commentary

gleaming bottles galore
whoa, wha’cha watchin’ zombie kids?
watching bottles
passin’ by, nothing to talk about

only that music and bottles on parade
you have to have loved it, or hated it or been mesmerized
here they come empty, watch ‘em now
then full, then lidded – get the lids on will ya

sometimes you tuned in and saw the end
when all those full bottles were
boxed, packed, trucked, then sped away
all to that appropriately endless industrial music.

at Saturday, November 12, 2011 2 comments Links to this post

words and music by jack s.

part decorative wood from Lincoln’s time
half recently constructed stone storage space
all overlooks the economically withering small town and an ugly
car wash across the street, with a coke machine that lights up

i have obtained the three thousand square foot
industrial building to write and play in.

i have embraced this space

have photos and dreams of being there
producing massive amounts of gems.
piles horded and distributed to the urchins

that look like overweight immature vandals;
short people not developed in any sense,
running in wild packs, probably to and from
that elementary school around the block,

and the legends will be created
by slouching legions carrying torches in the night
mobs of outcasts cutting vegetables for soup
blocks away from any used car dealership and

churches with a monument for the saints of another culture, generations ago
that are told in prayers and whispers to salt the wound, would you do that

to yourself or animals unless for cooking?
i'd get a caldron, check if open fires are legal

but they won’t stop me from
dreaming
for all the belching smoke and stench
i can produce in my dream caldrathon