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.