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we'd never do that

we’d never do that

Everyone suddenly knows what it is that drives a young man to arm himself with a weapon and extinguish light.

Driven by their own beliefs, agendas, and experience they label, pigeon-hole, and validate. Nobody seems to consider that perhaps all of it is more complicated than what we read and hear and see. We want so much to make sense of it, to understand and control it, that we do all that we can…

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the meek can have the Earth

the meek can have the Earth

Be aware of becoming a sheep. Don’t worry if you can’t sleep. Use the time to think. Think. Think. Think. You won’t get it, but you’ll get closer. And closer is better than farther, which is exactly what you get if you give up, give in, and believe the nonsense instead of following what’s within.

Stay away from the surface.

Know right from wrong.

Skin color, weight, and where you like to stick…

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Exploration

We have these great beautiful minds and souls to explore and a whole life to do it. And yet, we shy away or flat out refuse opportunities to open up and learn. We subscribe to someone else’s beliefs. We fulfill expectations that aren’t our own. We pull away, opt for comfort and safety, and slowly lose the ability to think and feel and understand our parts in this spectacular experience. 

Rise…

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Forever Home

We’ve only been in our house—a big, charming Victorian—for a couple years. I like it and all, but recently I was getting the itch to move. A bigger yard, more distance from neighbors, less maintenance, and lake front property. These were the desires running round in my head, as I scoured Zillow for places I hoped my wife, SB, would at least consider.

SB’s not a mover. She’s perfectly content…

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Conveyor Salesman Freewrite

https://thecrookedsteepledotcom.files.wordpress.com/2017/10/conveyor_sales.mp3

    My brain doesn’t want to work on a story, or a novel. Not even a poem. My brain wants my heart and my gut to be in charge. They want bad stuff—food, alcohol, and sex. It’s interesting how we’re hardwired. How base we can be when we’re alone. Miles away from family. I suppose that’s why most men roam. Why men…

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church doughnuts

This morning is a good one. It’s going to be another beautiful summer day in Alpena, Michigan. Clear sky, probably high 70s. Little to no wind. Except for cars passing down 2nd Avenue every so often and crows cawing and heckling a few blocks over, all is quiet in the neighborhood.

Julian gassed up with Cocoa Krispies and half an hour of cartoons. He threw on clean underwear, the same shirt and…

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Ceiling Fans

https://thecrookedsteepledotcom.files.wordpress.com/2017/07/ceiling_fans.mp3

July 23, 2017

7:21 am

  Just like the good old days. Start by marking the date and time. Call attention to what it is I’m doing—writing, thinking, creating, channeling, venting, seeing, hearing, hoping, believing, convincing—add the visions of the day—my kids sleeping, wife smiling, flower blooming through the sidewalk,…

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no more rules

https://thecrookedsteepledotcom.files.wordpress.com/2017/06/no_more_rules.mp3~

There’s never been a problem as big as it first seems.  But there is a great trick to finding reason in waves of emotion. That’s why so many of us drown and are defeated. Our bodies taken deep to the fish or washed up bloated on the shore.

The only way to get through it is to get through it.

And as far as I can…

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watch me

https://thecrookedsteepledotcom.files.wordpress.com/2017/06/watch_me.mp3

I know night when there is no time tick, tick, tocking and all of our efforts are fading.

So sometimes I listen to music in the dark.

Bon Iver’s Blood Bank or Manchester Orchestra’s April Fool. Maybe even Eddie Vedder driftin’, driftin’ away.

But it only makes me remember that I have a secret I don’t know how to tell.

  We…

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away from home

(smiling robin art by Brooke Stevens)

Left my family for a bit—probably just a day. Drive from Alpena, Michigan to Columbus, OH for a meeting. Along the way, a big mud turtle is saved as it scrapes across M33. It isn’t thankful at all as it is placed in the swampy ditch. Just sits there under that beautiful, beaten shell. Waiting to be left alone.

There are several close calls on the trip. Cars…

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and tonight, there is this

and tonight, there is this

May 22nd, 2011

8:24 pm

  He’s lost it a little. That something that pushed and pushed and pushed him. It was light. But there was deep darkness too. Days did not end or begin. They only moved seamlessly one into another. And now that he is full and filling out—heavier, slower, more patient with the world—he has so much of what he needs that wanting—feeling the urge to fight, fuck, and be…

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after the rain

He comes to me. Big, brown eyes. Smiling.

“Daddy, let’s pick night crawlers.”

“What for?”

He does a little jump. Claps his hands.

“For fishing!”

My boy. Five years old. Tickled with the notion of traipsing through puddles, picking slimy worms.

“But we can’t go fishing today,” I say. “Mom will be here soon.”

Undefeated. Still brimming with smile. Another jump. More clapping hands.

“We can go next…

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early train

The train. It’s 5:59 in the morning, but the train doesn’t care. It’s as if the conductor has a gripe with this town. Our warm and friendly port on the shore of Lake Huron. He’s blasting that horn continuously. Chugging through town with one mission—to make sure everyone’s up as early as he is. Maybe he was born here. Grew up happy, but got frustrated and felt stifled by the conservatism and lack…

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holy roller

https://thecrookedsteepledotcom.files.wordpress.com/2017/03/holy_roller.mp3

photo art by Rita L. Stevens

I don’t need sleep

or sobriety

or for someone

to tell me

how it can be done.

Because I’ve always known that

what it takes

is patience,

faith,

and a good fool-proof bullshit detector.

You can’t see it.

You’re not supposed to.

Life, after all, is about feelings

and taste and smell and touch

and…

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last day of February

last day of February

artwork by Brooke Stevens – www.horsefeathersartstudio.com

https://thecrookedsteepledotcom.files.wordpress.com/2017/03/last_day_of_february.mp3

A man stands outside in pajama pants and a hoodie, while the yellow dog sniffs undisturbed snow under the weighty boughs of the sleeping evergreens. And the fuzzy stars shine. Stuck in the middle of fading in, or fading out, and it’s another night of…

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observe, listen, and record

observe, listen, and record

Good morning. It’s bright, sunny—another day ripe with possibility and opportunity—as long as we embrace what we have and are willing to push on into the unknown. There’s a lot of good to be put into the world and I can do it, but today, all I really want to do is hole up in my writing room with a heater, some booze, and ideas. That’s where the real work will get done. That’s where I’ll feel the…

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little donnie big balls

little donnie big balls

https://thecrookedsteepledotcom.files.wordpress.com/2017/02/little_donnie_big_balls.mp3

He’s got the whole world

in his hands…

He’s got the whole world

in his hands…

But,

you can’t get too heady

with people these days.

Keep it short.

Under 140 characters.

And stick

to easy

unkind points

based

in self-serving reality

that’s steeped

in right

and white

where

fearful fucks

build bunkers,

arm…

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