Posts tagged ‘Letter’

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April 12, 2014

beautiful day

by jhon baker

TO NOBODY:

Sitting on the back porch for the second time this year and today the weather isn’t necessitating my normal hoodie. Coffee, cigarettes and my wife in and out cooking dinner while the boy practices his instruments. I didn’t ride today and should have but was too shaken by my car deciding to accelerate by itself and smashing into another vehicle. No injuries, no damage – just an unsafe car which has found its way, by tow truck, back to the dealer where they will find nothing wrong. My electrical lemon. It is time to rid myself of this car and go with something used with a bed or nothing at all and rely on my cycle to get me around.

I need a cathartic experience

something beyond the rapture

of the faithful.

Time passes without thought and I am still here – now sitting in the dark and typing by touch alone. At least there are my glasses and the wildlife which makes noise out of range of sight to let me know I am not alone.

The asshole neighbor yells at the feral cats like they can understand his anger at having cats as wild animals in addition to the plethora of other wildlife in the area. We need to protect our garbage cans from all sorts of creatures – possibly including the asshole neighbor.

Past my sons bedtime and it is my turn to read to him, cuddle close and enjoy it while he is still just young enough to want it. nearly too old for the closeness of his parents. This depresses me immensely as I think it does his mother. And there will be no more.

“five dogs went into the wildreness

only three came back

two died of guinea worm

and one died of you

Jack Kerouac”  – Hunter Thompson

We want our children to be sensitive to poetry but not become poets. My son is a musician and I’m not sure if that’s better. But his talent surpasses mine and anyone I know – I light another cigarette – so he can teach, perform, become famous or whatever he wants – he can be the most musically talented garbage man –

garbage men are the real poets anyway.

and my fucking car won’t work.

– Me

 

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May 9, 2011

Monday monday, pinched nerve and a hard on

by jhon baker

awoke with an inability to move my neck and a completely engorged member. This made it difficult to remove myself from the comfort of a king, stationary under a threadbare blanket.

I’ve three letters to write and have been ignoring my friends somewhat. Not intentional but a movement in a symphonic life teeming with incredulous memory.

coffee is unprepared but waiting.

I am growing more concerned about the influence of people who view me as an enemy. Don’t they know I love them, don’t they know I sit concerned at midnight about their health.

unfinished
one hand moves swiftly against the other,
(a final act of
expression.
a final act of
rebellion.)
wisping eagerly
against the fiddling wind
life dropping,
weighted,
still
on tiled, unclean
bathroom floors.
 – Hoc Scripsi

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January 22, 2011

Post 300 and it’s nothing special.

by jhon baker

I like to write letters. I like to write them with my 1983 IBM Selectric III. It is not that I am of another, former, school or that I feel this connection to other notables who used similar machines, I simply get more out of the experience as it is tactile, auditory, visual, visceral, emotionally invested, and so on – This is my pleasure. I also get from this a poetry of substance as poetry often fills parts of the letters, written as I type and sometimes good and sometimes not, the whole process lubricates the synapse and fingers. Allows new ideas to come.
So, this I propose – I have had a few pen-pals the last few years but I am down to my last and she is no longer able to respond to my letters, she is reaching the end of her life, I already miss her terribly. My heart breaks even to consider a world without her direct influence. I am not looking for a replacement, there could be no replacing my current, when she goes into a place where there is no pain, I believe that I will continue to write to her anyway – I’ll just have no-where to send the physical letter to anymore.
I would like to have other letter friends, communicating in the old way and helping the USPS (if you are in the Americas) or who ever does your post at the same time. Would there be any takers among you? You do not need a typewriter or even nice paper. Long hand works well as does printed out from the computer. The key is that it is mailed and it is thought out somewhat. The key is a quality communication.
If you would like to write to me – I will respond, it will be typed, it may have poetry, there may be misspelled words and bad sentences – there may be disorganized thought and sporadic insanities – one can never tell. But it will always be honest and unvarnished. Also, sometimes I draw on the paper if it sits in front of me long enough before getting into an envelope. Not that I can draw worth a damn – but it may be interesting.

Any takers? if so, e-mail me and I will give you my physical address. I promise any sent letter will garner a response be it one sentence or four pages of them. Who knows – this may become a thing.

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December 31, 2010

The end of 2010 and the start of 2011

by jhon baker

let us start something new.

humm, how about a year?

okay, good, what exactly can we do with another 365 days?

————-

on another note all together, I hear birds singing right now. It’s six-thirty. My wife is starting to cook some pizza sauce and my MIL is helping my son clean the living room. Two cats are crying for their seven O’clock feeding and I am blissful at the sound of typing being done on my slim keyboard.

Back to the bird; This morning I say a pill bug by the front door and late yesterday morning my attention was drawn to a really fuzzy caterpillar. I think what I am trying to say is it is damn warm for Dec. 31st and nearly all the snow has melted away. Condensation is covering everything and just when I thought I was going to take out my motorcycle for a winter run – it started to rain, heavily. This was God mocking me.

It was warm enough to strike the outdoor Christmas decorations, put the chains on my tractor tires because I am tired of being stuck in the snow while I eliminate the snow from the drive. We were able to see all the newspapers that got lost in the snow storms and get them into the recycle, unread, I am already aware of what has happened from those days and the only important paper, with my friend featured, had been gotten already.
while striking the outdoor declaration of secular celebrations it was discovered that there were some cut lights. This happened last night I am positive – we were out smoking and we heard a noise – I loudly said something about getting my side arm and investigating while I finished my smoke. We did nothing last night thinking it was probably an animal and come to find it was probably a neighbor who is the killjoy of all things neighborly.One day he will be in the yard and learn that I am indeed armed. But it’s Christmas time – I prefer to shoot people when Santa isn’t looking too closely. Not that I’ve shot anyone before – that you know of…

Tomorrow will have new poetry. I’ve a Magpie to finish and have been tinkering with some words and forms. Today has had it’s own poetry, tonight will have more as we fuck away 2010 and welcome fuck in 2011.

 – J. Baker

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