Words

Words and more words

Joe Bozic lives in Minneapolis.
He is an improv and sketch comedian.
These are some poems.

10/19

The tree
down the hill
at the bottom
of the hill
has surrendered its leaves
before all other trees.
This one
towering
and bare
giving in
to the frozen comforts
of winter.

10/18

You could
spend all night
watching the moon
move coolly across the sky
like a water droplet
on a dark piece of wood
set at just enough
of an incline
to invoke
motion.
You could
spend all night
shivering
and saying goodbye
to the moon.

10/16

Two Short Poems About Vancouver

They’ve hidden all
the coffee shops.
There’s nowhere to go
for donuts.
Such a perfect
little neighborhood.
I can’t wait to leave.

Bring the dog
into the store
the wife and child too.
We all need t-shirts.

10/15

She gripped the steering wheel
with both hands
rigid
and aged
maneuvering the sedan
down the curveless street
Perhaps she anticipated
the sudden appearance
of a living obstacle
blocking her path.
Perhaps she feared
that if her grip loosened
then so would the earth
loosen its grip on her
and that steering wheel
was the only thing
keeping it all together.

10/14

It’s okay
to slurp the soup here
to splatter noodles
around the table
and fill the restaurant
with the audible intake
of food and drink.
Don’t mind the looks
from the folks across the booth,
they don’t know
that it’s okay
to slurp the soup here.

10/13

The problem
with those picturesque moments
is that you can never remember
exactly
every last detail
only how your heart stopped
and then began anew.

10/12 - Canada on a Sunday

Start the day
laughing at maps
and set off
to trounce through
damp leaves
and strange streets

Brightly colored houses
dot each block
like children’s toys
cast along each avenue

In the distance
a mountain
keeps the city
from seeping into the sea

10/9

Out
where the beds
are too short
so feet may hang off
and be tickled by the fog
that crept in
from the ocean.

10/8

I lifted her up
so she could see
the moon turn
from blood red
back to white
sliver by sliver
as though the rising sun
was slowly scaring that poor moon
towards pale death.
There it is
between the trees
look before it’s gone.

10/7

Mind the city
as it reaches its long
cement tendrils
into nearby fields and farms
and subdivisions bloom
from the once-fertile earth.
Mind the city
as it reaches its strong
steel fingers
into the clouds
to take long glances
into the heavens.
Mind the city
as it reaches its foggy
promises
into your dreams
to fill your nights
with bustling anxiety
and honking buses.

10/6

we drive the same roads
every day
and I can’t remember
driving those roads
today

I only recall
the radio playing
our least-favorite songs

10/5

we drove
two dozen miles
to watch trees as they die
and to pick the last few
remains
of their fruit
to shove them into
unnatural bags
to safely decay
on the kitchen counter
we paid dearly
for the opportunity
and as we left
 we were told
  to come again
   next year

10/4

Long before we moved in
cement was poured
and seeds were planted
to balance
an unfamiliar relationship
of mankind and nature
as natural equals
but deep beneath the sidewalks
hidden roots reach up
to throw the relationship
and the cement blocks
off balance.

10/3

Listen as the cold waves
crash against the rocks
Listen as the water
laps up ruthlessly
against the stony shore
pummeling and retreating
with dust
and pebbles,
small prizes
in this battle which
we’ll never witness end
Listen as those rocks
give freely to defeat
the silence
between crashes

10/2

The early autumn breeze
carries with it
a whisper of late November

the squirrels scurry off
to warmer climates
carring the fruitless plans
we made on warmer days

throw the “to do” list
out the window
before you shut it for the winter
and wait for my hand
to caress your hand
resting upon the thermostat