Trying Not To Blink: A Poetry Collection

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Trying Not To Blink: A Poetry Collection Page 8

by Eric Nixon


  All too often I find that poetry suffers from a self-defeating air of snobbery where the poet seems to try their damnedest to be as pretentious and obvious with their symbolism as possible. It’s like science fiction filled with “alien” names that completely unpronounceable with half a dozen Xs, and Zs while peppered with apostrophes. While I would like to think that my poetry is a lot more accessible and down to earth, I’m sure I sometimes lapse into the foggy air of pretention, but I really try to keep it manageable.

  Aquatic Intentions

  Aquatic intentions

  May exist in the colder months

  But as a real thing

  They generally are not acted upon

  Until the tipping of the hemisphere

  November 21, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  White Jeep

  We know the times

  (We keep a spreadsheet)

  We can see the place

  (Right across the street)

  Where the white Jeep goes

  Parking in the library’s lot

  For several hours at a stretch

  During the day we can see him

  At night, the glow illuminates him

  Too cheap to get Internet at home

  He leeches the public bandwidth

  For his clandestine online activities

  November 21, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  I don’t actually keep a spreadsheet, but I have thought about it. This guy parks across the street in the library’s lot (the building itself is only open six hours a week in our tiny town), with his Jeep facing our house. Naturally, at first we were a little creeped out, but he spends maybe three hours a day out there. When it started getting dark earlier, we could see the glow from his tablet or laptop. Weird.

  The Connection

  Trying to create

  With much fury

  With much fuss

  Shudder flowing through

  The connection

  From old to old

  Hopefully made new

  November 25, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  Corn Snow

  Looked outside the window

  At the tiny balls of white

  Landing, bouncing, settling

  And said, “Corn snow.”

  Those around me

  Thought I was crazy

  Having never heard the term.

  Desperate to prove the phrase

  I pulled out my phone

  And searched “corn snow.”

  I showed them the results

  Turning the crazy table

  And giving them a place

  To eat their words

  November 25, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  This happened yesterday.

  An Inattentive Oncomer

  Sunny Thanksgiving morning

  Driving on a windy mountain road

  To my mother’s in Massachusetts

  Wife behind the wheel

  Pleasant conversation

  Nothing noteworthy

  In an instant, everything changed.

  A car in the other lane

  Did the unthinkable

  And crossed the center line

  The double solid yellow failed

  Allowing the inattentive one

  To broach the impassable barrier

  Speeding into what should have been

  Our one-way safe space

  The lane designated for us

  Traveling in our direction.

  It wasn’t a mere straying

  It was intent on colliding

  Now fully in our lane

  A second and a half away

  From a head-on death.

  In both cars

  All mouths and eyes

  Turned to surprised circles

  Both drivers reacted,

  Grabbed their wheels,

  And threw to the right

  We went off the road

  Trying to avoid

  A fatal intersecting.

  Thankful for the space

  Of the soft wide shoulder

  Amid a kick-up of dust

  And the holding of the horn

  They missed by a scant foot,

  Re-crossed the line

  And rounded the corner

  Gone from view

  As if nothing had happened.

  We pulled to the left

  To avoid the drop off to the river

  And we were back on the road

  Chests thumping like a heart attack

  Hands clutching handles like fear

  Still breathing, we drove on

  Slowly easing back to normality

  Thankful for the near-miss

  Thankful to be alive

  Miles later, I realized

  My history didn’t flash

  Before my eyes.

  There was no replay

  Nothing to review

  Just the terrifying realization

  That our lives,

  So stable and predictable,

  Were neither

  And could so easily

  Be extinguished

  By an inattentive oncomer

  November 25, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  Kari’s quick reflexes and defensive driving saved the day.

  The Bulk Of Humanity's Preoccupations

  Think of yourself as an empty glass

  The size of which represents your lifespan

  If you die young, you are a shot glass,

  Living to a ripe old age gets you a pitcher.

  What we choose to fill our lives with defines us

  But the more I look around at others (and myself included)

  The more I become aware of something disturbing:

  The grand futility of the bulk of humanity’s preoccupations;

  Working jobs we hate, spending time with people we don’t like,

  We fill our lives to the brim doing things that annoy us to no end,

  Which have nothing to do with enriching, improving, or expanding

  Ourselves in any way that brings us joy, happiness, or fulfillment.

  When we finish our jobs for the day, we choose to deaden our minds

  With escapist diversions such as substances or television.

  Sooner or later, your glass will be full and you will be done

  And when it is, and if you get the chance to watch it

  From beginning to the end with no way to fast forward,

  Or choose your favorite scenes for endless replay,

  Would it be enjoyable, or would you suffer?

  Today make a change in your behaviors and take back your life

  And fill that glass with everything possible thing that brings you

  Closer to your own ideal passionate perfection.

  You still have time to make your life something worth watching.

  November 25, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  I’ve had the title phrase in Line Ideas since the summer and I’ve been wondering what I could possibly do with it. I guess now I know.

  Contradictions

  Popular publication

  Filled with facts

  Held in belief

  Full of passages

  Lots of authors

  That don’t agree so

  Contradictions abound

  Tiny details

  Larger discrepancies

  Huge issues

  All of which

  Are blessedly ignored.

  I am familiar

  With the lines

  Spouted every time

  But I have moved on,

  And let the subscription lapse

  Because I won’t buy into it anymore

  November 26, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  Lazy Flakes

  Stepped outside with the dogs

  When movement caught my eye

  A fluffy white square

&nb
sp; No bigger than a fingernail

  Corkscrewing on by

  To the ground below.

  While the dogs did their thing

  I watched with wonder

  As the courteously lazy flakes

  Slowly spun and spiraled

  Leaving about a foot of space

  For the nearest neighbor

  To do the same downward dance

  To the earth where,

  With a final flourish,

  They melted

  November 28, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  Content Crazy

  There is way more content

  I want and need to see

  Than I have time for

  Saw a link on Twitter

  A few more on Facebook

  And tried to remember

  To look them up later

  When at my computer

  But, of course I forgot

  Because there’s too much

  To see and try to recall

  So, instead,

  I sat and tried to think

  Of what it was

  I was supposed to see –

  I couldn’t and moved on

  And for days it bothered me

  Driving myself content crazy

  November 28, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  This poem is too rhymey, which was completely unintentional. It does convey the frustration I feel when I try to remember all of the cool stuff I told myself to look up later, and never do.

  Up Down

  Just about to climb in bed for the night

  A thought thunks me hard in the head –

  I forgot something important downstairs.

  Annoyed, I put on my slippers

  And trudge to the stairs, thinking:

  Up down, up down, up down

  I do what I needed to do, hike back up,

  I kick off my feet, get in bed, and relax.

  Another unsettling thought flashes bright

  Much more urgently than the last one

  Causing me to get up and go back down:

  Up down, up down, up down

  This is the nightly ballet I perform

  To the singular audience of my cat

  At this point I think I’m the one

  Creating this experience for myself

  Or maybe I just like repeating the phrase:

  Up down, up down, up down

  November 28, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  When this happens, I always say out loud in an exasperated voice, “Up down, up down, up down.” A minute ago, I heard my wife saying the same thing to herself as she walked down the stairs.

  Forget Them Entirely

  The best way to get revenge

  On someone who has done you wrong

  Is not to immortalize them

  With your anger and hatred

  But to forget them entirely.

  As soon as you do,

  You’ll be rid of negative thoughts

  And, more importantly,

  You’ll be rid of them.

  November 29, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  I’m not sure where this came from. I was listening to NPR this morning and the idea came out of nowhere.

  A Delayed Present

  Writing in the present

  Is a delayed present

  Opening a window

  And showing a glimpse

  Of the distant past

  For those reading

  The written words

  In the far future

  November 29, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  My mind was putting things in perspective this morning while making breakfast.

  DECEMBER

  Center Illumination

  The little town’s Christmas tree

  Sneakily christened as a

  “Tree of Remembrance”

  Strung with white lights

  Only in the middle

  Puzzling me with its

  Center illumination

  No lights on the bottom third

  The top third’s just as dark

  Causing me to question

  Why they’re trying to remember

  Something with this tree

  They’ve clearly forgotten to finish

  December 3, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  I’m looking at it right now. It truly is a tree of remembrance because I will never forget it.

  Don A Softer Pant

  When the day is done

  And you are finally home,

  In place and mind,

  You often reach for

  And don a softer pant

  Because it swaddles

  Better than work wear

  And gives an easiness

  Eager for relaxing.

  Go on, you deserve it.

  December 3, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  I saw a photo posted on the Instagram account for Tegan And Sara where they had a wordy paper posted telling the rules on the tour bus for the band and crew. In it was the phrase, “…don a softer pant…” I found it impossible to resist and wrote this poem that I find almost annoying in that cheesy, over-the-top kind of way.

  A Branch Apart

  Double tapping

  In rapid succession

  Too purposeful for nature

  Too random for humans

  I look around and see it

  Two woodpeckers working

  In the same tree, a branch apart

  Both up there, doing their thing

  Ta-ta-tap-tap-tapping away

  December 3, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  Momentum

  Bodies at rest

  Keep on resting

  Sleeping away their days

  So I must keep on moving

  Can’t slow down

  Can’t ease up

  On this momentum

  Move, move, move,

  And plow on through

  So when I do stop

  And I need to rest

  It will carry me along

  And require a minimum

  Of effort to keep going

  December 3, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  Certain Keys Are Cleaner

  Certain keys are cleaner:

  Return, Backspace, and delete

  Certain keys are dirtier:

  Right shift and keypad slash

  Some keys are pristine:

  All the letters but Q, Z, and X

  Some keys are half spotful:

  The right side of the spacebar

  5, 6, 7, and +

  What this really tells me

  Is not the beginning

  Of a statistical analysis

  Of a writer’s key usage

  Or a thoughtful discourse

  Connecting the finger’s movements

  To the heart and the mind

  But rather,

  I need to clean my keyboard

  December 3, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  I would include a picture of it, but it’s embarrassingly dirty.

  Keeps Us In

  The time between

  The diffused light

  And total dark

  Is about an hour

  But every day

  It creeps earlier

  Bringing us to

  The strange side

  The dark time

  Of the calendar

  When the dimness

  Of the day

  And not the hour

  Limits our actions

  And keeps us in

  December 3, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  I really want to go out for a walk, but it’s so dark out. (Shakes tiny fist in the air) Darn you, axial tilt!

  Post Office Parking Lot

  Pulling out of the post office parking lot

  When in comes another car

  With the
blinker signaling the wrong way

  A leftover vestige from two turns ago

  Meaning they drove a quarter mile

  With it blink, blink, blinking

  And either didn’t notice

  (unobservant driver – scary!)

  Or, couldn’t be bothered

  To extend a finger to trip the switch

  (uncaring driver – watch out!).

  Judging by the parking job

  Covering up the line

  Separating two spaces

  And the way too casual

  Tossing of trash

  On the ground

  As they exited the car

  I would say it’s both.

  December 7, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  Saw this in Fair Haven, Vermont yesterday. I would say it’s both (and then some).

  Beauty

  Go into any box store,

  Supermarket, or drug store

  And come to face with

  A dozen aisles of beauty

  Full of tools and supplies

  They want you to buy! Buy! BUY!

  Take a minute to notice the

  Blazingly bright lights,

  Colorful packages,

  And boastful claims

  Crowded with pictures

  Of too-young, too-thin models

  Photoshopped to non-human proportions

  Whispering to every woman and girl

  “If you buy this, you can try to look like me!

  And my impossibly unattainable level of beauty!”

  Ignore the words and images

  Meant to sell you things you don’t need

  Turn around, walk out the door, and leave

  Open your eyes and mind

  And realize you are beautiful without all of it

  The paints, pastes, adhesives, glops, and creams

  What they sell you are merely coverings

  Spackles not meant to beautify

  But cover up and hide the real you.

  The concept of a beauty aisle

  Is a boldfaced lie

  Beauty isn’t store-bought

  It’s already there to begin with

  So stop comparing yourself to others

  Take a long look in a mirror

  Clear their advertising from your mind

  Appreciate the real you

  And bask in your beauty

  December 7, 2012

  Benson, Vermont

  We went to a Target yesterday and I was struck by how much brighter the “Beauty” aisles were compared to the rest of the store. As we walked through those aisles, I took in all of the damaging subtle messages that screamed out from all sides. I know there’s nothing a mere poem can do to combat the billions of dollars in advertising to get people to buy this trash, but I was just hoping to get someone (anyone) to take a moment, step back, and see what the ads and packaging are really trying to tell and sell.

 

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