Skip to content →

Category: Auburn

POEM: opening day

easter-bunny-yoga

opening day

stand with your feet touching
inhale as you reach your arms toward the sky
engage your core
say hello to the sun

in front of which a baseball passes
100,000 eyes follow it
from the yellow into the blue
100,000 lungs inhale

he reaches his arm toward the sky
glove held upward
no past, no future
just now after now after now

exhale, hands in prayer position
bend forward
touch your palms to the ground
feel the sure, steady earth

the ball falls into his glove
inhale, place your hands on your shins
100,000 lungs
exhale, lower your body to the ground

he moves into Player Throwing Ball
inhale into Down Dog, exhale
he is one fluid motion, thought-less
inhale, look at your hands

exhale, jump your feet forward
he straightens up, looks in at the next batter
inhale, raise your arms toward the sky
he stands beneath the blue, waiting

1 April 2013
Auburn AL

Leave a Comment

POEM: painted sky

painted sky

they’re on the lawn
he’s on his back
sweater under his head
for a pillow
she’s propped up
on her elbows
looking down at him

above her is
an Alabama sky so blue
it looks fake
it’s warm, there’s a breeze
bees are filling the bushes

he wants to sing her
every song he knows
and all the songs he doesn’t, too
he wants to reach up
put one hand on her cheek
sit up just enough to kiss her
a long kiss that takes its time
a kiss that is itself a poem

30 March 2013
Auburn, AL

Leave a Comment

POEM: it’s not a cairn

Pile_of_rocks

it’s not a cairn

what’s the name for an intricate series of relationships
whose desired outcomes are difficult to predict?

when is it OK and when is it not OK?

what is the meaning of the rule and to which situations
is it best applied, given the complexity of human life?

to whose attention should I direct these questions?

what did you mean when you said that thing you said?

about whom is this poem being written, and how is that
to be determined without more data?

how many plots can be wedged into one life?

are these small-town situations or are they also possible
in a big city where the people whiz around like protons and electrons?

what do you call a pile of rocks in the woods?

29 March 2013
Auburn AL

Leave a Comment

POEM: Thursday (after Frank O’Hara)

Thursday
(after Frank O’Hara)

this morning I bought a bag of Chex Mix
from the Study Pit in the library
(“with a hint of Worcestershire”)
ate it back at my desk in Spidle Hall
washed it down with water
from the fountain in the hallway
I went to Opelika with friends
walked around enormous warehouses
full of paintings and sculptures
and one old resuscitated piano
had a falafel pita with onions
avocado, mushrooms, spinach
and Dijon mustard, which I think
comes from France but they still
serve it here in Alabama
drank a Barq’s root beer
then went back to my office
ate some Olive And Sinclair
Southern Artisanal Chocolate
with sea salt in it
“hand-crafted” “small batch”
“slow roasted” “stone ground”
and after all that I listened to a guy
playing the ukulele much better
than I can play it
but nobody famous died

28 March 2013
Auburn, AL

/ / /

This poem is an homage to Frank O’Hara’s “The Day Lady Died.”

Leave a Comment

Ain’t Gonna Play Slum City

[Note: This piece originally appeared on Page A6 of the March 28, 2013 edition of The Auburn Plainsman.]

Ain’t Gonna Play Slum City

Slum City is a row of makeshift shelters erected in front of Auburn University’s Student Center with the intention of showcasing poverty around the world. I believe the intentions of the builders of Slum City are honorable. I think they’re trying to do good work. But I believe they’re going about it the wrong way, for several reasons.

Poverty Over There Vs. Poverty Right Here

Several of the shelters have signs with country names — I saw India, Cambodia and Kenya. It was a very windy day and I thought some of the signs might have blown away, because the other shelters were unmarked.

One difficulty with the way the “city” is set up is that is suggests that poverty is something that happens to unfortunate people of color in far-off places. That’s particularly sad given that 1 in 5 people living in Lee County, Alabama — home of Auburn University — live below the poverty line. (The poverty line itself is a poor measure of quality of life. In 2012, the poverty line for a family of four was $23,000. So if you and your partner have two children and make $24,000, you live above the poverty line, but it sure doesn’t feel like it.)

All Of [Insert Country Name] Looks Like This

I’m also uncomfortable with the image this creates in the mind of the public that, for example, “Kenya” equals “slum.” This reinforces the stereotypical image of the “Dark Continent” as a place of poverty, savagery, lack of technology. But have you ever seen photos of Nairobi? It looks like any modern American city. The same is true for Phnom Penh, capital of Cambodia.

Hear me clearly: I do not mean to suggest that poverty is not real in these places. I’m simply pointing out that labeling a cardboard hut “Kenya” or “India” or “Cambodia” is too simplistic and misleading.

Why Are Poor People Poor?

In large part, it’s because of us. Look at what we wear. If you took off everything you’re wearing that was made in a far-off country with poor labor standards, would you be reading this naked? I know I’d be writing it that way. The reason I can buy work shirts for $9.99 each at a chain store is because someone suffered to make them.

The same is true for our food. How can a fast food place sell five tacos with meat in them for $1 if someone down the production line isn’t being paid far below a living wage?

The cars we drive, the gas that powers them, the clothes we wear, the food we eat, the elements in our smart phones and laptops — these all come from the labor of people without whose poor compensation we’d be paying much, much more.

False Distance

The effect of Slum City, in my opinion, is to create a false distance between the observer and the observed. Surrounded by multi-million dollar buildings, with a Starbucks and a Chick-fil-A just a few feet away, it’s easy to feel like this is a museum exhibit or a look at something with which the viewer has nothing to do. That’s just not true. We’re able to live the way we live because other people live in places like Slum City. And even engendering feelings of “gosh, this is horrible, those people must be suffering,” isn’t enough, unless those feelings are tied to concrete action.

OK, So What Do We Do?

As students and community members, the main thing we can and must do is ask how to craft better campus policies to confront some of these realities. This could cover everything from the paper used to the food served to the way employees are paid. These questions aren’t easy to ask, and they’re not easy to answer, either. The people who run the university have a budget to answer to and they don’t have complete freedom to change course. But working together, there are ways to make changes that could mean a real difference in people’s lives.

Moreover, it’s time to stop thinking of poverty as something that happens far away. For example, how many Auburn students and staff qualify for food assistance? Do they receive it? If not, let’s help them register for programs such as SNAP (the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program).

I encourage you, as you explore these questions, to adopt the solidarity model. Go to the communities you think might need help and ask them what they need. Don’t assume. Don’t swoop in to “save” people. Figure out how to help with the plans these communities already have and the work they’re already doing.

Good Intentions

Again, I believe the people who built Slum City thought they were doing the right thing. But poverty is a systemic issue, not a set of random circumstances. And it starts right here at home, with our actions and with the lives of our neighbors, rich and poor. Let’s take down Slum City and start building a better community right here, right now.

(By the way, for those of you younger than I am, the title of this piece is a reference to “Sun City,” a song from the anti-Apartheid era.)

Leave a Comment

POEM: the monk and the jay bird

the monk and the jay bird

there was a Blue Jay in my yard today
I’ve always had an affinity for them
they remind me of the Catholic church
mostly of Father Edgar, the Franciscan
who was a friend of our family
when I was a child in Lenox
he called me “Jay Bird”
I had only a vague idea of his job
but I knew it involved a lot of time
thinking, praying, meditating
even as a little boy, that sounded like
a good way to spend your time
I’ve left the weight of Catholicism behind
but not the desire to wear the clothes
of a thinker, a healer, a holy man
the builder of a loving community
I’m grateful for Father Edgar’s example
all those years ago
I still think of him
every time I see a Blue Jay

27 March 2013
Auburn AL

Leave a Comment

POEM: the listener

the listener

he never wants to read another book
he simply wants to sit under an oak tree
while she reads to him with her soft Southern voice
the accent she worked so hard to lose
reluctantly regained in recent years
imagine Whitman, Carruth, even Douglas Adams
slipping off her tongue like rain drops off the leaves
he thinks he could be content with that
for as long as she cared to read

26 March 2013
Auburn AL

Leave a Comment

POEM: oranges

Ambersweet_oranges

oranges

she always has oranges
and books about math
we watch from nearby
as we wait for her table
like hungry vultures
it looks warm outside
but it isn’t
there’s a cold wind
blowing through the afternoon
inside we’re sitting
on either end of a seesaw
trying to find the spot
where we used to balance

25 March 2013
Auburn AL

Leave a Comment

POEM: the hardest working pet rock in Alabama

538099_143604142466317_1905109622_n

the hardest working pet rock in Alabama

my pet rock, Larry, got a job this week
he’s serving as a doorstop in a dollhouse
I told him he didn’t need to work
his company is payment enough
for the roof I put over his head
but you know rocks — they’ve got their pride
Larry came from a stream down the road
part of a haul that included The Ladies
and the more serene Buddha Rocks
it’s hard not to like Larry
he’s always smiling, no matter the time
always there with a quip or a kind word
in many ways he’s quite like the Buddha
no real ego to speak of, except for the pride thing
but even an enlightened being
has to deal with a bit of pride now and again
Larry gets home after dinner most nights
he has to wait for the little girl’s parents
to give him a ride back from dollhouse duty
he seems to like it and I’m glad he does
as long as he’s happy, I’m happy

24 March 2013
Auburn, AL

Leave a Comment

POEM: the shambly man

gasstation

the shambly man

is bent inward into himself
his arms come to rest naturally
around his stomach
he’s hunched over
walks with his knees pointed in
the woman sweeping up
and the man behind the counter
are laughing
not at him, as you might worry
but with him
because he’s saying something funny
the shambly man
is driving a rust-red
Jeep Wagoneer
with buckets of ice in the back
like its owner
it has a few structural issues
also like its owner
it’s still moving

Leave a Comment

POEM: bodega

bodega

I want to slip out of the rain
into a bodega in Sunset Park
where the Iraqi owner
calls me “buddy” or some-
times “sir” which sounds
OK when he says it

I want to buy two Mexican
Cokes in chilled glass bottles
a package of OREO cookies
a box of kitchen matches
cheap headphones
and a tall slim candle
showing the Virgen de Guadalupe

I want to wait while
the old woman counts coins
from her tattered change purse
and the young kid who
works nights sells lottery tickets
to two busboys who stopped in
on the their way home

I want to get a craving for a snack
at three o’clock in the morning
and know that the place
will be just as busy as at
three o’clock in the afternoon

I want to choose my drink slowly
from the cooler in the back of the store
so I can watch two old men and two
younger men play dominoes and
tell jokes in a language I can’t identify

I want to buy mint chocolate chip
ice cream for the woman
who’s waiting for me
in the bed we share
just down the street
from the bodega

22 March 2013
Auburn AL

Leave a Comment

POEM: 80

80

I turned seven in 1980
and if someone had told me
but of course no one could have
I realize now they were much too busy
trying to grab hold of their own whirling chaos
in 1980, for example, my mom turned 30
nine years younger than I am right now
twice married once divorced
with a baby and a small boy
it took years for me to understand
there would never be a moment of closure
a moment when it would all become clear when
every sin every error every slight would
be absolved in a rush of salty tears
rather we would just go on
until we stopped
which we have
dead

21 March 2013
Auburn AL

Leave a Comment

POEM: what might have happened if

Jason+Molina

what might have happened if
(for Jason Molina, 1973-2013)

I’m listening to Jason Molina
it’s my first time
he died the other day
he was the same age I am
he went to Oberlin
he played the guitar
sang wistful mournful longing songs
and other songs too
the L.A. Times says he died “after
a long battle with alcoholism”
it’s in the obituary twice
I don’t know the rest of his story
but I know there certainly is one
a rest of the story, I mean
and a rest in the other sense, too
a sad death, a flurry of mentions
makes me wonder
what might have happened if

20 March 2013
Auburn AL

/ / /

You can stream and download Jason Molina’s music here.

Leave a Comment

POEM: song for a dusty road

IMAG0119

song for a dusty road

emerging from the thorn bushes
into a stunning March afternoon
I chuckle when I think that up north
my kids had a snow day today
my sister went ice skating with her students
not me — I’m pedaling my bicycle
down a dusty dirt road
bouncing over jagged rocks
on tires that weren’t meant for this
all so I can dive into another set of bushes
in search of a matchbox or a pill bottle
or a metal case full of comic books
left by someone I’ll likely never meet
so that one day, under the hot sun
I’d come to this place with a smile
and a rapidly beating heart
looking for adventure in a way
I’d nearly forgotten

19 March 2013
Auburn AL

/ / /

This poem was inspired by geocaching, to which I’ve recently become addicted.

Leave a Comment