Observation – January 6th, 2021, Wednesday

It is cloudy in Minneapolis, a gray day in America

The capital is occupied by terrorists, insurrectionists

A coup de etat is being attempted in America

Shots fired at the capital

A woman rolls past the cameras on a gurney

Her face bloodied, gravely injured

Terrorists have occupied the floor of the House

The Senate chamber is under their control

Trump supporters flying Trump flags wearing Trump hats

A bunch of brown shirts, chickens come home to roost

The mob is fighting the capital police

Reports of flash bang grenades

The final process of ratifying the presidential election has been upended

The clock is ticking, they have five days to complete their work

Observation – December 5th, 2020, Saturday

The floorboards are creaking above me

A reminder that I do not really live alone

Kitty is curled up in a ball on the couch

I hear the deep rumble of engine outside

Small branches swaying in the light breeze

Dark slender finger, against the pale sky

There is laughter somewhere down the block

People are walking outside, riding bikes

There is no snow on the ground, no ice

It is warm for Minneapolis in December

Observation – November 5th, 2020, Tuesday

Coffee on the terrace of the penthouse

Morning on 49th Street, Radio City

Rockefeller Plaza, a few hundred feet away

Columns of concrete, glass and steel push up into the powder blue sky

Green-copper spires reflected in mirrors one thousand feet tall

Their soft patina wavering in the sunlight

A curious pigeon comes to greet me

The sounds of the city are pressing

A steady drone of HVAC permeates the atmosphere

Sirens wail and saws whine, over the drone of engines

As the arhythmic clang of steel on steel fills the air with hollow waves

While all around me hammers fall

The city hums with a ghostly bustle

Observation – September 5th, 2020, Saturday

The long September sunlight reflects off the sandstone and red brick of the building across the street, filtering back through the green leaves of the maple outside my window.

The window is open; there is traffic on Bryant and a rhythm to the sound of tires on pavement, as car after car rolls by; Kitty is sleeping on the ledge by the sill, curled up on her side.

I see patches of blue sky through the limbs of the tree.

The air in the apartment is cool.

There scent of cinnamon and cloves lingers in the air, I made eggrolls.

Observation – August 5th, 2020, Wednesday

The scent of garlic and curry the apartment

 

I made a pot of lentils

 

For the first time in weeks the air conditioner is silent

 

The windows are open for a cross breeze

 

A dappled light comes in through the east windows

 

Filtered through the green leaves

 

Kitty is complaining about the taste of medicine in her food

 

The dry and dusty chondroitin that helps her with her joints

Observation – June 5th, 2020, Friday

The city is green

It is summer and it is quiet—right now, at 4:00 pm

If I think about it

I can recall the sounds of gunfire

That woke me up in the middle of the night

The quiet lays on Minneapolis like a green veil

The city is restive

The demand for justice is simmering, now

Seven days ago, we were at a roiling-boil

I can smell the ashes lingering—still

The chemical scent of unnatural fire

Scratching in my throat

Observation – May 5th, 2020, Tuesday

It is a bright morning

There is a plane flying overhead, though the city is quiet

There is a robin chirping in the tree outside my window

My lady is working at loom, weaving on a hoop

Kitty is begging for butter

Seventy thousand Americans will have died

From complications due to COVID-19

By the end of today

The news is increasingly grim

There are politicians telling us to prepare

Be ready to lose more

Americans must be ready to sacrifice

Like they did in World War II

This time we march into the jaws of a faceless beast

To feed an economy, that is hungry for our lives

As valuable as kibble, scattered on the floor

The Muse

I love you, he says
Confused, stumbling over words
Prayerful supplicant

I seek clarity
Whispers the poet, and wisdom
She smiles invitingly

Red lips part slightly
Revealing sharp teeth, bright-white
Like diamonds flashing

Lead me to the truth
By your beauty, and goodness
Your willing servant, I

He says, withdrawing
Drugged as the lotus eaters
Hallucinating

She opens her eyes
Deep-blue pools, like cobalt fire
Burning without light

She embraces him
The wretched poet, victim
Drowning in the night