Happy At The End Of The Day

She seemed happy at the end of the day. I’ll
never say if this was the case. Her pay is
low, but I know she was happy to be back around
other people after being alone in her home for
five days during the ice storm. Nearing middle
age never scared her, she said she still loved to
rock out to the Steve Miller Band and during each
birthday she treated herself like a five year old
child at a pizza parlor party. There was something
wild about her in this moment, like seeing her
then, on one of those birthdays. It could be
that she was just glad to be back at work, or
what some would call “doing something”. I
personally think the greatest thing she’s done
all day is to appear bounding with happiness
at the end of the day, for me, herself and the
rest of the world. Even for the people she’ll see
in the convenience store on her drive home
when she stops to get some milk, shredded
orange cheese and eggs, to make dinner for her
husband who lives in another house a couple
acres behind her own house.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Taking Apart A Pot Of Coffee

while i was taking apart the pot of coffee
the hipsters looked in
then came the yuppies and suburbanites later.

dude
what are you doing they said
that thing ain’t a model of the universe
it’s not on tv
you’ll never survive like this.

looking up at the beige walls
i continued to take apart the pot of coffee
many many many winters passed
until i had a beautiful beach at my feet
many many many winters i must stress.

you can collect your paycheck for 30 years
watch tv
have a career
get clothes, money, houses, gadgets, cars
or you can take apart a pot of coffee for infinitum.

be forewarned
if you take apart a pot of coffee
people will heckle and belittle you
they’ll grow old in front of your eyes
if you’re good you’ll be sent to a state home
for doing so
if you do things right though
you’ll be happy regardless of your income or location
while taking apart this pot of coffee
in fact i don’t believe income or location will matter
in the long run while doing things as such.

you can take apart a pot of coffee
in a bathroom
on a spaceship
on a mountain top or while waiting on a table
for an mri.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Appointment With Directors

Chase the hills in Mexico,

followed the tones of your skin into shadows,

by the morning the sun was there

all eyes were open
and the beaches bartered eternity,

I reached for a tortilla.

The moss and mold hid, then fell apart
underneath
the eyes of the onward looking directors of Universe.

Afternoon cascaded down your legs
dribble dribble
and my head feels so good,
I smell the old plants,

let me eat the oranges in a still room,
god damnit, I am like an old man.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Spell

Who’s been noticing
the urine stains in my underwear?
Who requested
the memories that I lost?
Who’s been etching a rock
upon is claimed “there is asylum”?

. . . the Apostles?

Who cuts the grass
when the current lawn boy moves away
(not from this place, but from himself)?
Will the next lawn boy stay,
and find meditation
in his chores of repetition?

. . . all of us . . . do we?

Who fed me sodium all my life?
In amounts extreme;
an addiction to such spice
my liver must I trust.

The timbers of my blood have fallen.
Do you have the courage of imagination
to raise them?
Do you know the conifer-king of
ionized ever-greens?

. . . only one;
the answer or the question,
the human or the animal.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Above Calypso’s Sea

There was an island here
that held my carnal desires.

When shadows showed
on the cavern walls
from the fire
I ate them.
I fucked them.

Tumbling into the night.
Twisting close to stars.
Not quite celestial.
Not earthen.
Not there in one way
or another.

Between happiness,
long forseen in the world
of the future,
allured and drunk.

But the old winds came,
brought a priestess
to take me to the coasts of the humans,
so I could see
their achievements and failings,
their temples and refuse,
then
I could see myself
in the words I’ve written and others
who write in me
at the wooden table
in the daylight and the midnight
that
completes the verse of the wave . . .

the one, one wave.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin