beyond the light

Just beyond the light

There is tomorrow

Another line

Another page

A story yet untold

That only you can tell

In your unique way

——///

Our youth

Fields of grain

Too many intersections

And not enough time

——-///

We lived and we tried to feel love

As it was sold to us

We tried to be something

Nothing

Anything

——///

I felt the shift

I felt myself losing tune

Yes tune

We rang loud

And out of tune

We lost touch with people

Humanity

We looked to our palms

And our timelines

But it told us nothing of our times

Twitter is not real

Facebook is not real

It does not give you the supper table

The summer mornings

In the south

The green stalks of corn

The ice storms in winter

The kerosine Heat

——///

We live and die in the hashtag

But we haven’t grown up to maturity

Poverty is more than we can comprehend

It’s a relationship to money

It’s habits

It’s not just wanting and not having

——///

These lives just beyond the light

The gift of life

Look past the last headlines

What we are

We are here

Now

Alive

—-///

More than politics

More than religion

More …

——///

“Be what you were…”

I look at art

At words

Films

From the 90s

And I feel a disconnect

I don’t know this person

This person doesn’t know me

I can’t see the tv from across the room

I keep moving my couch closer and pretending it doesn’t matter ….

Pictures give us words

——///

We are textured

Quilted

Struggled

Immigrants

—-///

Downsizing

Can you downsize the American dream?

We can find answers in 5g speed

We are born with a cellular plan

But we don’t know our neighbour

A pastors struggle on Monday morning

—-///

Are we red and blue state ?

Disconnected

People vote, or don’t vote, for various reasons.

One Party is the single issue party. Or the anti vax, anti mask, lower tax…don’t take my guns?

No, one party is the American dream, Reagan party, read, communicate, write, dream, love your country, write your wife love letters from across the room. You’re groomed from a young age to vote red.

The business owner. Trying to dream.

The other is college kids, millennials, like it or not, woke, sensitive to every issue, minority, apologising, how will the kids make it during this economy?

Most of us are somewhere in the middle not on the fringes…who’ve lived through a handful of economic collapses…

Most of us have lost someone to this virus…

I was talking with a nurse and she was telling me of the horror of a patient dying…of the horror that people still think this is a hoax, the fact that these patients are protected by privacy laws and this creates a gap…and we will never know…but they know…and for them…this is a nightmare…

Now, what do people vote on?

Somewhere in the middle.

We have more in common than we think.

The whole silence is violence

be woke to every single new thing ….

that’s a big tab…

the answer to winning votes and states

is not be the most liberal…

it’s connecting to the country.

We are all Americans.

Unplug from social media,

You can block and unfollow each-other all day long but these are real people with real lives and real votes and they are not going anywhere, they’re our neighbours our mothers our siblings.

what do we all have in common.

Return to the vision. Return to common sense, adulthood …

you can build a platform and a table with room for everyone.

We can’t go back…we go forward…beyond the light…or we fade into oblivion…

Francis Cash #15

Ethan: Francis, look I’m sorry.

Francis: No! Stay away from me.

Ethan: Here, have some treats.

Francis: What is THIS this isn’t going to change anything.

Ethan: I’m sorry I dropped you in the sink.

I thought I had a better grip. But you MOVED!

Francis: (sighs. looks away.) I’m sorry I bit you. But you did drop me in the sink. You grabbed my bob tail.

Ethan: (whispers) I thought it was a Hemorrhoid or something.

Francis: What! It’s my tail.

Ethan: You’re the one that keeps getting poop stuck.

Francis: I do smell betterz now.

Beagle in the City #286

Ethan: Simon, hey, Simon, check this out. I found a documentary about poets.

Simon: What? No, I’m good, you’re a good poet.

Ethan: Simon come on man. I have chicken fingers. I’ll even make pie.

Simon: I’m sleeping. Good night.

Ethan: ….

Ethan: Hey Francis!

France: Yo, whassup wait is that pie?

Ethan: you want to watch this poetry documentary with me?

Francis: You know I’m always down to make fun of your profession.

Ethan: It’s not a profession, I don’t even get paid.

Francis: You really don’t have to make it easier. Just leave it like it is. I already told you I’m gonna watch the show with you.

Ethan: we can watch what you want next.

Francis: The aristocrats

Ethan: Again, it’s Cats- Aristocats

Francis cash #11

Francis: Look at this, according to this fb post, the average hooman doesn’t know what he wants until you sell it to him. This is ridicurous. What’s happening to societies.

Simon: I don’t believe it, I just use my nose, hey, I think there’s Cheetos in the trash…

Francis: Cheetos! Hit me. Boy, I didn’t even know I was hungry. But I’m a bit snackish.

Beagle in the City #283

Francis: what’s to eat! I put my order in days ago. Who’s running this joint anyway.
Ethan: Hey now, you big jerk…
Simon: Hey I was thinking we could eat sandwiches. Pastas. Oh wait wait…pasta sandwiches…
Ethan: (gags) it’s ok (gags again) how about a spinach salad…with salman…maybe-
Simon: what’s a s-s-a-lad??
Ethan: ….it’s spinach and greens…with oil and vinegar…salt and pepper…don’t use ranch it ruins it…like axe body spray…
Simon: I don’t get it?
France: Yeah me either, with all the oil and vinegar? Where do you put the lasagna?
Ethan: Great day, Simon, a salad is all the stuff you eat outside.
And Francis, we are not having lasagna…
Francis: ( big eyes)
Ethan: we’re compromising for spaghetti and garlic toast…
Simon: Yeahh Toast!

2020 #43

When I was younger

My neighbor planted these pear trees in his front yard…

They were attractive trees

The only problem was, every time the wind blew, they lost a limb or split down the middle.

I remember because that season we had tornadoes every Friday.

My dad had a cherry tree. He hated it. That same summer he tried cutting down.

It came back.

He tried pulling it up with his tractor.

But it came back.

Finally he cut it, and then burned it.

——

The night I had to go to the house and found my father had passed away…

I remember walking outside in the rain I looked over

And saw that the cherry tree was back…

I laughed, it had outlasted my dad.

——-

The pear trees looked better.

They didn’t take up space

And everyone loved them

But they were frail…

——-

I hope you’re like the cherry tree

I hope you’re resilient

I hope you fight tooth and nail for what you believe in… and for yourself

I hope you don’t give up what’s keeping you moving.

I want to be like that

For my health

For my life

For my art

Keep going

Take up space

Grow large

What else is there?

Bleeding Ink 1,520

She has words

Like rain

Her eyes

Like moonlight over water

She’s out there tonight

She’s going to make it alright

I hope you’re there when she makes her stand

——

I’ve seen people come

And

People go

I’ve lived just enough

Though I’m not old

I know what I like

I like the way she dances

I like the soft way she laughs

When she knows

She’s got it right

mist over my eyes

She’s better than champagne

I’m here standing

Waiting on the world to come end to end

She came out of no where

She puts the color in fall

She’s real

And it pours out

Like it was written

All at once

Like a season breaking through

A new morning

Starting new

Bleeding Ink 1,518

Time out of mind

My insides are stone

All I do is groan

What kind of love….she said

Cold hands

I’m free

But when the lights go down

When the traffic is tight

While I’m waiting

I still hear him

I still see him

Stomping

Yelling

Who knew

Marriage was war

——-

She feels herself slipping away

She sees him

And feels the blow from his words

The blow from his hands

That selfish way he demands

——

It’s a long way

Long way from home

She has that vacant stare in her eyes

Like a war vet

You know she’s reliving it

——

She’s praying for salvation

——

Hoping she can still touch things gently

There’s nothing left to see…

Nothing left to say

He may not hit you

But he may cut your off from your circle

He may cut you down

He may gaslight you

He may suddenly twist it

And make you feel like

Your feelings are invalid

He may sit down and portray a conversation

But it’s really just conditioning you

So you can go back to the way he needs you

He may be nice here

And over there

And those little moments feel so bright

Because they are so few and so far

——

What does it matter now

There’s barely light here now

I’m always reaching

But I can never find

Is there some way out

Some piece of me left?

Just buckets of pain

Buckets of rain

Cities on fire

I’m not even crying

Barely even trying

What’s the point

My heart broke some time ago …

Now there’s just

Flashes of colour

Flashes of pain

What is there left here to spare ?