Morning coffee

Looking up to?

A List

“A List”
of my life

“The Practice of Poetry”
an external hard drive of music
160 gig,
cds,
dvds.

a canister of salt and pepper
for food eaten in the Lazy Boy
where I sit.

“Poet’s Companion”
“The Random House Thesaurus College Edition”
necessary for clarity.

“The Bedford Introduction to Literature”
a collection of short stories and poems
taught to my recalcitrant students.

Faulkner, Hemingway, Ellison,
Zora Neal, Langston, Whitman,
Beckett

all for attention beckon.

Franklin Templeton Fund folded on my left.
a future?
perhaps
a future of futility.

a new satellite system
booklet (with Tevo)
sadly beckons
as confusion reigns.

life’s simplicity
so complex.

poetry
from the masters
from me
unchanging.

modern technology
from where?
changes .. changes
and changing again.

life.

complex.
computers.
metaphors
of meaning.

reference guide
to the dish
from the roof
finding positioned
satellites flickering
floating deep in the sky

spreading signals of destruction
from Beirut,
Baghdad,
to Beijing.

keithdsutton

“Daddy taught me”

“Dad taught me”

My brother,
dad’s desire—
waiting
in anticipation
with bated breath.

Junior
he called him
Camel’s smoke
flowing freely from
his nose
his lungs.

My sister an added
piece of the puzzle.
Galveston
Miamu

twins
us
times hard then.
We never knew.

Money made by men
who understood
the how
the why
the when.

Dad caught in the whirlwind of without.

But he saw—
he knew and
hell-bent
we would know
that which had passed him by.

second grade hauling furniture
to Kansas City
his sidekick
long nights
lonely roads.

loading trucks at the factory
soldier’s pants for ‘Nam
mom sewed.
as the irony
escaped me.

The importance of work
sweat and toil
labor
my Dad
revealed
without a word.

He never understood
simple things.

of children
of life.

He never had the expectancy
the opportunity
the hope.

smokin

A Camel? A breath of death.

A Glimpse

It was suddenly dark. I wasn’t sure where I was but it was unfamiliar–a seemingly forbidden place. I was not surprised. I was here because my attitude, even my temperament was to frequent the forbidden places we often visit only in our dreams. Anyway here I was but, for the first time, I was extremely uncomfortable. I didn’t belong here.

I remember vaguely, after having a little too much to drink, of hitting a dip in the road about 5 blocks from my house It was May 7th or so about 3am and my Nike sandal got trapped on both the accelerator and the brake My white pickup had taken a beating or two but not like the one it was headed for. I remember speeding uncontrollably , I don’t remember the crash but I recall looking up at a fractured windshield, seeing a tree, and trying to open the driver’s door. Having no success, I exited the passenger door and saw two police officers and an ambulance. From there my world went black.

I waved the ambulance off and headed towards the police cars. That was my last memory for 6 months. I collapsed and quit breathing and was immediately rushed to the emergency room. Thus I began my journey into the deepest, blackest, dark hole of infinite unconsciousness.

This place had no light beckoning me to follow like I had always heard. No!! It was 6 months of dreams, of torment, of hell from which there was no escape. It was punctuated with a mysterious, confusing, unexplainable kiss my wife gave me. For me it marked the end of the day. Or was it? Was it a kiss? Where am I? I seek answers, escape, rescue but none appear. I’m Didi and Gogo in a Beckett play waiting endlessly for godot.