Observation - August 8th, 2023, Tuesday

the fans blow white noise

 

I am still-sleepy after waking

 

the scent of coffee brewing

drifts through the apartment

sifting through the soft air flow

 

my head feels thick

like my brain is made of

cotton balls

 

Observation - August 7th, 2023, Monday

soft, the morning light

 

the dappled silhouette

of the maple tree

laying on the window shades

 

crooked branches, jagged leaves

swaying in the breeze

 

 

Observation - August 6th, 2023, Sunday

there is a dog barking

at a distance

 

the sky is gunmetal-gray

the air cool and thickening

 

there is the promise of rain

 

Observation - July 8th, 2023, Saturday

it is quiet

there is the soft-sound of air

moving through fan-blades

the quiet hum of its motor

turning

 

I hear a choir of monks singing the liturgy

it is nine o’clock in the morning

the hour is Terce

 

the coffee in my cup is warm

there is a coal burning in the ashtray

smoke drifting from the bright-end

of a marijuana cigarette…commercial hemp

 

woodpecker knocks on a tree

the sound comes through the window

with the cool, summer-morning-breeze

 

Observation - July 7th, 2023, Friday

there are bulldozers on the street

moving piles of concrete

beep and whistle, a blaring horn

living in a construction zone

 

Observation - July 6th, 2023, Thursday

the air outside is cool

 

it is noisy in the building where I live

 

there are footsteps above me and the sound of furniture moving

of heavy things being scraped along the floor

 

there is an ant walking up my wall

its large dark body moving robot-like

against the creamy-white paint

 

Indra, after the fall

 

 

Observation - June 8th, 2023, Thursday

the day is bright

the air filled with dust

 

bulldozer grading gravel

outside my window

 

…beep…beep…beep…

the sound of the alarm 

 

Observation - June 7th, 2023, Wednesday

it is warm in the apartment

 

I turned the cooling unit off last night

now the air is hot and stale

 

there is the stink of musty cloth

something sour in the room

 

Observation - June 6th, 2023, Tuesday

there was a sudden silence

as the news channel buffered

and the steam shovel

outside my window…

…thirty feet away, stopped

pounding the building

stopped shaking

for a moment

there were no footsteps above me

only the soft noise of fans…and

the air conditioner humming

in the kitchen, blowing cool air

 

if the birds were speaking

I could not hear them

I could not hear them

in the sudden silence

 

we—all, just listening

together in the quiet

 

 

Observation - May 8th, 2023, Monday

there is birdsong in the bright morning

and the beep…beep…beep of warning

 

there are trucks backing-up, with the

heavy-thudding-rattle of tracked vehicles

rolling over soft earth

 

there a thousand shades of green unfurling

the new leaves of maples…oaks and elms

 

there are birds, trilling lauds at sunrise

 

 

Observation - May 7th, 2023, Sunday

there are piles of rubble in the street

the sun is warm and yellow

 

shadows leap from broken concrete

            red-brick and steel-rail

pulled from the street

 

robins pick through the broken road

            looking for something to eat

 

the steam-shovels and back-hoes

            are silent on this Sunday morning

 

Observation - May 6th, 2023, Saturday

a monarch was crowned in England today

the enslavement of the people continues

 

they showed up by the hundreds of thousands

shouting,

god save the king, like a gaggle of fools

all-spun-up for a christening

 

 

Observation - April 8th, 2023, Saturday

bright sun and birdsong

the April light filtered through dingy windows

 

engines humming on the street

 

humans walking dogs, barking

conversations punctuated by

the laughter of strangers

dallying on the curb

 

Observation - April 7th, 2023, Friday

a pale-gold line at the horizon

 

a blue-gray sky, soft

with brightening clouds

 

the bare maple, warming

in the spring sun

           

cracking green buds

in the morning

 

Observation - March 8th, 2023, Wednesday

the sky is dirty gray, like

street slush in sunlight

 

a fine wet snow falls in a mist

 

a single brown leaf clings to the maple

in front of my window

stubborn-little-thing

wavering

in the icy breeze

 

 

Observation - March 7th, 2023, Tuesday

 

a billowy field of blue and white

drifts above my head

 

the march sun is welcome

 

the walkways are wet

little streams of water flow

from ice packs

clinging to the shadows

 

rabbit tracks disappearing

in the melting snow

 

 

Observation - February 8th, 2023, Wednesday

the ambulance pulls up across the street

lights and sirens…beep…beep…beep

 

window shades glow with the tint of blue and red

a gurney clatters on the sidewalk

a carriage for the dead

 

Observation - February 7th, 2023, Tuesday

the sky is gray-bright with light

            filtered through thin cloud

 

it is pleasantly cold, with

a dampness to the air

 

traversing the cement-walk

shoeprints in the shining frost

 

 

Sid Gateaux, Zen Syndicate Intergalactic, People’s History Project, The Skein of Days, Big Sugar Buddha, Observation, Reflection, February 7th

Observation - January 8th, 2023, Sunday

the maple’s face is covered in snow

outside my window

bare branches like twisted-fingers

in the freezing cold

Observation - January 7th, 2023, Saturday

it is cold

the furnace went out

 

it is eighteen degrees outside in the city

there are poor people sleeping in tents

          beneath newspapers

 

the morning sun is pale in a silver sky

my fingers are stiff…but not from typing

 

the sound of the space-heater fills the room

pushing cold air through hot coils

the smell of electricity touches everything

 

the red kettle comes to boil

its sharp whistle pierces the

white blanket of noise that

clings to me

 

promising something warm to hold

hot coffee from the French press

pushing through the chilly gloom