It’s morning – cool and gray. I tried to write a poem about knowing and possessing and the odd calm in almost believing that I know nothing, have known nothing, possess nothing, have possessed nothing. The poem was rubbish and lacked stickiness. Instead, I remembered a first date I had many years ago. It was…
Moment of Zen on a Crowded Bus
A few days a week I commute to Oakland. As the crow flies, It’s about ten or twelve miles. But crows can fly across the Bay. I cannot. Those ten or twelve miles (13 by car) take half an hour to drive and about an hour by public transportation. I take public transportation – which…
An Appreciation for Place
On my birthday (back in August), I sat on a bench by a small beach along the San Francisco Bay. I watched the sunset over the Golden Gate Bridge. I took a picture of it. This week, for no reason other than maybe some subliminal desire for fall hues and an appreciation for the ever…
First Days
Day one on the new job (yesterday), was tiring. During the morning commute, my transit card wouldn’t scan at the train station. I assumed it was a low fund balance issue – though I couldn’t rule out that it was a Matt is dumb and doesn’t know how to use his transit card issue. Both…
Anything but Routine
It’s early. I had to set an alarm today. I haven’t done the alarm thing, at least not on a regular basis, in a little over a year. It’s my first day at my new job. I’m giving myself extra time to wake up, get ready, and make the commute. I haven’t had a commute…
Morning Sky Brightening
From my apartment window, I watch as the sky purples. I’m not sure if this is a trick of the eye or the light from my apartment reflecting in the glass or the approaching dawn. I wait, hoping time will provide more clues. The sun always rises, the the sky always brightens. It’s nice to…
Small and Simple Pleasures
Despite my minor complaints about dating and my even more minor complaints about my own artistic limitations, it’s been a good few days. The sun has been out. The weather has been warm, if not hot. On Sunday, I went to the farmers’ market for the first time in months. Going to the farmers’ market…
Writing Struggles No. 48
I feel years, if not decades, behind where I could have been as a writer had I only been paying attention. I feel as though thirty or forty years have gone by and, somehow, I missed them. For most of us, creating any type of art (writing, painting, music) requires being present in the world….
I’m Sure Something Will Turn Up
Four, maybe five, nights ago, and again the following morning, I sat in front of a blank “page” and a blinking cursor. If the screen were blue, this could have been an episode of Doogie Howser, M.D. – except for all that boy genius doctor stuff… and all the other stuff in the show… and…
A Pocket Full of Longing and a Head Full of Song
The song in my head, a song that’s been out for a few years but is new to me, is Orville Peck’s “Dead of Night.” The morning’s thread of poetry and literary quotes is littered with the ashes of September. These days, everything is fading light and longing. Ray Bradbury wrote, “It was September. In…
Legacy and Rimbaud
At 5:34am, I’m sitting on the sofa just beginning my second cup of coffee and contemplating those old, needling notions of life’s wandering pathways and legacy. The upstairs neighbor has just turned on the shower. The foghorn bellows. It’s dark outside. I was reading the poem, “Shatterings,” by Stephen Dunn when a reference to the…
September Feels
September. It’s mid-month. The days have grown cool. In unexpected bursts, the winds whip and whistle. The shift is subtle, and I’ve been told it’s usually warmer than this. I can already tell I’m going to miss the crisp air of the east coast fall, the smell of cornfields in the night under a harvest…