A Dark Figure<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A dark figure<\/p>\n\n\n\n
stands at the entrance of a lighted church.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Elmer the husky and I<\/p>\n\n\n\n
walk the neighborhood at 5:30 AM.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
No moon or stars seen in the sky.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I see the figure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I know it’s a homeless man<\/p>\n\n\n\n
because I see the homeless<\/p>\n\n\n\n
almost every morning on our walks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Think about that regularity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It still astonishes me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We approach him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I lead Elmer off the sidewalk<\/p>\n\n\n\n
to give us some distance<\/p>\n\n\n\n
to go around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don’t like feeling that way,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
but it happens sometimes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He’s smoking a cigarette.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He’s tall, young, bearded, contorted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He’s looking up at the sky,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
gesticulating,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
pointing,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
raging,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
but utterly silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
If there had been stars,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
just one,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
or the moon,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
even a sliver,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I might understand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There is nothing<\/p>\n\n\n\n
but black.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Usually, I say good morning<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n to the homeless.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not this morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n Bark Chip Artist<\/p>\n\n\n\n It’s 5:30 in the morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A purple and orange outline<\/p>\n\n\n\n of Mt. Hood forms in the eastern sky.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A planet’s up there, too,<\/p>\n\n\n\n but I can’t name it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I learned nothing useful<\/p>\n\n\n\n in junior high science.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Worm dissections and<\/p>\n\n\n\n petri dish molds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Never one lesson<\/p>\n\n\n\n about watersheds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I walk Elmer the maniacal husky through the park.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Time for another encounter<\/p>\n\n\n\n with the homeless.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Perhaps walk into<\/p>\n\n\n\n an arresting image<\/p>\n\n\n\n to inspire a poem.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We pass a young homeless<\/p>\n\n\n\n man smoking a cigarette<\/p>\n\n\n\n and fiddling on his phone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I say good morning<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He doesn’t look up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n No poem there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Fifty yards later,<\/p>\n\n\n\n a homeless man approaches.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He walks crooked and shuffling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We meet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I say good morning<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He grunts something<\/p>\n\n\n\n in return<\/p>\n\n\n\n I don’t catch it<\/p>\n\n\n\n but I think it<\/p>\n\n\n\n sounded cordial.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nothing like a cordial grunt<\/p>\n\n\n\n for a greeting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Possible poem there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We cross the bridge<\/p>\n\n\n\n where below the old beaver lurks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A can of Coors<\/p>\n\n\n\n rests on a rail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I see a homeless man<\/p>\n\n\n\n carrying a bag of cans and bottles<\/p>\n\n\n\n across the street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I call out to him about the can.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He says, thank you<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n and crosses the street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n No poem there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But possible greeting card.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Geese honk overhead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Freight trains lurch and decouple.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Elmer and I keep moving.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We hit the bark chip path,<\/p>\n\n\n\n lit up by lampposts,<\/p>\n\n\n\n and pass the<\/p>\n\n\n\n split oak<\/p>\n\n\n\n and fallen cedar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Down the path<\/p>\n\n\n\n I see a homeless man<\/p>\n\n\n\n meander.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He stops and<\/p>\n\n\n\n scratches out something<\/p>\n\n\n\n in the bark chips<\/p>\n\n\n\n with his right foot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He’s designing something.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He’s not scraping<\/p>\n\n\n\n dog shit of his shoes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Art is happening!<\/p>\n\n\n\n Maybe a haiku!<\/p>\n\n\n\n I’ve got to see what he’s creating!<\/p>\n\n\n\n The man turns right<\/p>\n\n\n\n and disappears across a bridge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Elmer and I move forward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I stop and behold the artist’s design:<\/p>\n\n\n\n It’s giant penis with testicles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It’s ejaculating!<\/p>\n\n\n\n Definitely got a poem here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n Smooth Extrication<\/p>\n\n\n\n Movement outside my front window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I move to investigate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A gnarled and bearded<\/p>\n\n\n\n homeless man,<\/p>\n\n\n\n sorts through<\/p>\n\n\n\n my neighbor’s garbage can<\/p>\n\n\n\n with a homemade<\/p>\n\n\n\n claw of a tool.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This? Maybe.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n No.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Not this.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n This.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The claw extricates a garment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The extrication is silky smooth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A gray WSU hoodie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He inspects it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He folds it neatly, tight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He sets it on his wagon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My neighbor must have thought<\/p>\n\n\n\n the hoodie too dirty and threadbare to donate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It makes me wonder what I’ve thrown away<\/p>\n\n\n\n that still had purpose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The claw extricates another garment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Even smoother this time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A gray WSU sweatshirt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He inspects it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He folds it neatly, tight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He sets it atop the hoodie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He makes me think of my<\/p>\n\n\n\n dead Uncle Dale.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A clothes horse<\/p>\n\n\n\n who hung up his<\/p>\n\n\n\n t-shirts on hangers<\/p>\n\n\n\n and arranged them by color.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Someone, somewhere<\/p>\n\n\n\n along the way<\/p>\n\n\n\n taught this man<\/p>\n\n\n\n how to fold clothes<\/p>\n\n\n\n like this.<\/p>\n\n\n\n His form didn’t develop<\/p>\n\n\n\n on its own.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He’s been doing<\/p>\n\n\n\n it his whole life<\/p>\n\n\n\n and he’s now in his<\/p>\n\n\n\n 40s or 50s.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" A Dark Figure A dark figure stands at the entrance of a lighted church. Elmer the husky and I walk the neighborhood at 5:30 AM. No moon or stars seen in the sky. I see the figure. I know it’s a homeless man because I see the homeless almost every morning on our walks. Think […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":8908,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5,42],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8907","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-meditations","category-poetry","has-post-title","has-post-date","has-post-category","has-post-tag","has-post-comment","has-post-author",""],"builder_content":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8907","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8907"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8907\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8911,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8907\/revisions\/8911"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/8908"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8907"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8907"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8907"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}