Tag Archives: Present

15Revisions.

“I guess the difference is in that of a whistle pig and a woodchuck”

, I said, “that’s a bullhead and a catfish.”

Graceland played while I looked at Brahma steel toe

and I thought of the McCandless quote about

mans spirit coming from new experiences.

and when I hear that Hollingsworth track,

“up over the hills ain’t even really that far”

I think of how coasts and inland smell different.

Vedder wants a last breathe that he won’t let out

which I get but there are guys who just want to keep breathing.

So I picked my car up in the morning, humming,

“I”m going to Graceland, Graceland”

and I packed for Brookville, Brookville,

and I burned CD’s for the drive,

thinking I’m bound singing to Graceland.

I did 80 to Clarion wondering what I’d eat for dinner,

thinking of the day before, doing 60 down 219 into PA,

wondering the same thing.

And when I woke up I did calisthenics and

pulled a muscle in my thigh a little,

and had bad powder eggs and a high toasted bagel.

sometimes I find myself not liking what I wrote,

I change it.

I got lost in Clarion and thought about dinner.

I notice myself wondering how far I will go.

My fortune cookie said,

“Everything is possible;

just not so probable.”

and I guess that’s pretty true.

The best part about is driving is just going and going and not thinking about anything in between but what’s in your line of vision and a full tank. So you go on and on and stop in from town to town but for the most part you just have lots of thinking time. Luckily you got Howlin’ Wolf on CD and 10 tracks to go.

I really made it to Pennsylvania,

embracing the knowledge in trucks.

So I parked in the bank parking lot and walked down the the street corner, one big Brahma step at a time. I opened the glass door and 34 heads all confused on who disrupted their card game turned. I walked through them, toward the back of the room and looked for someone who looked in charge. I knocked on the fridge behind me and heard a “Hello!”. A filthy old man showed himself and he knew I was not from town.

Flew up on 66 N in a little snow storm and got home for a two day stay not long before midnight.

I woke up and thought it was Sunday.

There’s no brakeman slowing down,

just whole and oholy luck that I’ll stay on track.

accidentally gave the waiter a two twenties on a $25 bill,

thought it was a ten.

Lou Reed, Tom Waits, Lord Buckley,

gotta get the coffee ready for morning.

I sleep with the fan on high.

Might have got a fiber glass sliver at work.

training for the future,

invent it then manifest it.

this locals dog pissed in the front of the shop today.

I broke the tire shop padlock.

this professional driver knowledge is getting the best of me,

got 6 oil related hats and was excited.

I know trucks past ’07 more than likely to have synthetic differential fluid than older models and a mudflap can ruin a drivers payload.

itching to get a drink.

I know what a drivers face looks like

when his hood falls off his tractor.

I know I really couldn’t call people all day.

I know $1.50 a week/unlimited coffee is a deal.

Sat and watched the waves hit the shore from the third floor balcony

of the beach house, wondering where the clam was that I tossed back in from

the shore. The rain pounded the bay window from the couch within, four feet up

on the coffee table.

my friend said once, “I’ve been working. I get to see the sun rise everyday. I think that’s pretty cool.”

I thought that was pretty cool.

we had talked and talked deep brooding thoughts before,

as some people talk and talk deep brooding thoughts.

but this off the sleeve comment really showed just how delicate life can be.

It’s strange stepping back out of town and watching it from a distance.

I told them, “that’s something I take real serious”

and they believed me. Wild.

I made it home and sat on ideas for two weeks,

reflecting.

I just want to sit with four feet on a coffee table and breath in unison.

 

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Filed under sangretti

“That’s Not Who I Am.” (5-7 stanzas)

And so we went

with nary a word into the dark night.

The headlights illuminated little around us

leaving us with a dim understanding of where we were going.

That was for the best,

I tried to convince myself.

That was all apart of this letting go theme.

But was this who I am?

My eyelids were starting to fall.

I looked over at the man with no name.

Saw his silhouette waving in and out of focus,

looking ghostly.

He’d moved onto smoking a joint

and singing under his breathe with the Goldberg Sisters.

I saw shinning tears running down his cheeks.

I wipe away the salty wet from my cheeks

and just as I fall asleep he punched the radio off,

angrily,

muttering,

“That’s not who I am.”

_

_

I woke up when we came to a screeching halt.

My head flung forward and then snapped back.

“MOTHERFUCKER!”

screamed the man with no name.

My foggy eyes cleared quickly, panicking about what could have happened.

I jumped out of the car.

He was just standing at the edge off to the edge of the headlights.

Feet planted.

Arms crossed.

Back to me.

Cautiously I joined peering into the murky darkness the lights tried to pierce.

My eyes widened.

We stood on a precipice of a gorge.

He laughed,

“Marla was right!

You might die at any moment.

The fucking tragedy?

You don’t!”

“Would have killed us?” I yelled, in fright,

in anger,

in excitement.

He winked at me,

“Maybe.”

“That would have made you a murderer!”

He winked at me again with a scary smile,

“That’s not who I am.

Who are you?”

_

_

Walking toward the car, he let out a barking laugh.

My vision went funny and my body began to ache.

Then they came in big billboards

that passed me on this stagnant road right by the ledge.

I saw Lowell being built in the Industrial Revolution.

Flashing before me I witnessed Kerouac sitting at his typewriter,

my parent’s pointless mundane lives,

the banking job I had,

the kids poking fun

(that pain still burning).

Showing me fully connected to the social media of the day-

Showing me a slave to the entirety.

I felt sick as I fell to my knees covering my eyes.

“Why is this happening?”

“Showing you a Jack’s wasted life.

“But

“That’s not who I am.”

He winked again with that scary smile.

Walking toward the car, he let out a barking laugh,

“That’s not who I am!”

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Filed under Mr. Stacker

What blinker to turn on?

There comes a time in a person’s life where they meet at life’s divide.

Coming to that crossroad of destiny is not easily understood.

Being in the dark about your choice will terrify you, but in time…it will all come to light.

Guidance from others seems to be a bit cliche if you ask me, since they are having their own role to continue.

YOU, and only YOU can make decisions that will either make you or break you.

It will be on you to see them through or not.

So when that intersection is upon you, will you go left or right?

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Filed under cireryohei