Archive | June, 2013

Don’t Look Back

27 Jun

I.
The massive “Warriors” chants began before the doors
to the train had opened,
fans in their fresh gear
ready for battle.

He turned to catch a glimpse of
his past life
somewhere out in the Oakland hills,
then turned his gaze
towards the San Francisco cove
where the sun would soon fall
producing yet another Bay area Sunset.

It was as if he’d never left
to become the person he was that day
taking for granted he’d once lived here
All those great escapes and close calls
afterward brought him back,
he wasn’t even close to the same person then
let alone the person he was a year ago.

He reached into his pocket to produce his ticket,
joined the mass throng of basketball fans
and allowed himself to get lost in the crowd.

II.

The yard work put him in quite a meditative state.
There so much to love about the Oregon summers
Tillamook strawberry ice cream and naked bike rides.
Longer days and shorter nights amid daylight’s
illusory effects.
A city boy with an affinity for country life
exhausting his body to clear his mind.
It was a shame he couldn’t share any
of these simple joys with her.

III.

He never thought it was possible to encounter someone
so thoroughly disgusting that he’d wish that he would never
see that person again.
A person of that character he wouldn’t even interact with
it was puzzling that it got that far.
He considered them to be genuine friends
amid the shared intimacies
that were largely ignored and dishonored.

Such a lesson was so painful
that he wished that it weren’t necessary
to meet his shadow incarnate
the embodiment of his animus.

Experiencing such a failure forced him to choose
between either killing himself or becoming a better person.
Sometimes the best way to learn about the man to become
was to encounter the kind of person who not to be.

IV.
Briefly considered how such a period could be documented
–if it should be recorded.
It was like the whole town had conspired to remake a really bad 80’s movie.
Trendy assed poseurs, hipsters and superficial 20 somethings
frolicking about in the appropriate garb.

Eight heightened months
largely full of unpleasant experiences
save the occasional pick up games
and random sporting events,
time well spent with friends
despite the fatigue and regret that resulted from the trip.

He’d over analyzed things so much that he’d become distant
from everything that made him who he was.
There was nothing left to glean from looking back.
No one left to blame (including himself)
His chance at redemption was not as far off as he originally thought.
There was no need to revisit those old files.
No need to ever go back.

V.

The month had been good to him.
Tonight found him stimulated by the naked women and caffeine.
Later when he entered her,
he knew it was time.
The feverish excitement finally brewing inside his veins.

And when he finally came,
there was no grandiose crescendo
no sexy bass lines
no R & B singers
nor African children singing “Boom Ba Yay!”
Only a long chant
slowly building inside his head,

“Rooooooocccckkkkkk. Chaaalllllkkkkk. Jaaaaaayyyyhawk. Keeeeeeeeeeeeyoooooouuuuu”

He was focused.
There was clarity.
There was purpose.
He was ready to go.

~Edward Austin Robertson

Enjoy your Summer

26 Jun



Fresh

25 Jun

Fresh as in the new
Fresh as in the place to be
Fresh as in feeling at home among strangers
Fresh as in new.

Fresh as in being in the moment, bending on the precipice of shock,
expanding one’s consciousness to the point
where frame of reference takes precedence over velocity.

Fresh is so vivid because fresh is so new.

The feeling that only lasts a little while
because its fresh.

~Edward Austin Robertson

Erosion

25 Jun

So high you were
so long ago
chiseled with character.

Your weeping walls
rich with mineral and strength.
Stern and aged ridges alongside
little space between perfect gravity

You are the mighty
you are the ruler
you will crumple long after I am gone.

Your handsome features
remind me that I’ve been taking myself
too seriously.

~Edward Austin Robertson

Careless (For Maura)

25 Jun

We’d made promises that I couldn’t keep
over sandwiches I shouldn’t have been eating.
Lying in bed later
between the naps
and lovemaking,
I was awake
planning my (our)next move.

I was being reckless
and she happened to be an innocent bystander
I didn’t mean to hurt her though
but that’s not a good enough excuse.
I was old enough to know better.

Whoops.

~Edward Austin Robertson

The Better Team Won (For Los Spurs)

22 Jun

Wish I could say it gets better
But it doesn’t
Ask “The Playmaker”
about the ones that got away
Tempe, Arizona 1987
San Francisco 1995.

Even the biggest winners sometimes lose.
Though it hurts for those of us who care too much,
I can’t imagine how it feels to be you
so close you can taste the champagne
and embrace the thrill of the accolades,
only to realize how small the margin for error really is,
the difference between second best and champions.

Though you have nothing at all to lament
and everything in the world to be proud of,
there is nothing you can do to ever get it back
which is why losing is probably worst feeling in the world
— no many how many times you’ve won it all.

Sometimes there is no closure
sometimes there is no justice.

Sorry.

Timmy Time Machine and Kawhi were the only ones to have good games the other night.

New Chapter in Lawrence

8 Jun