Month: April 2014

mendeltna 247 memories

Anticipation. Non-sense. Loading up. Lady. Excitement. Settle. Quiet. Hum of the motor. Glenn Highway. Valley splendor. Hay fields. Cows. Ice crème stop. Sleeping Lady. Railroad crossing. 8 track polka. Counting dead rabbits. Counting cars. Steep. Cliffs. Falling rocks.Twisting road. Do not pass. Glacier. Gunsight Mountain. Frost heaves. Eureka. Little trees. Are we there yet?
A long sweeping bend in the asphalt. A lonely wayside. A small winding creek. A pioneers abandoned cabins. An eternal place. Milk and cookies. H o m e. Darkness. Blackest blue. Billions of stars saturate the sky. Clouds of pin lights. Semi’s rounding the bend. Faint to a roar. Lights out. Quiet. Isolated. Sleep.

First light. Fresh air. Cool. Crisp. Frost. The decay of fall. Sunshine.Gold and green and red. Dew on the leaves. The smell of coffee. Bacon. Eggs. Beer pancakes. The snap of a twig. The crack of the fire. Musty log cabins.

Jim. Hun. 44 in the holster. Giant. Deep voice. Quiet. Hip boots. Wicker fishing creel. Protector. Big hands.
Bug dope. Bear tracks. Lady ventures ahead. Hip boots. Poles. Current. Eddies. Fishing. Wading in the water. Bear tracks. Blueberries. Bugs. Brush. Lookin’ for the hole. Fish. Bugs. Brush. Rain. Sun. Hail. Rocks in the river. Fish on. Fish heads. Fish Scales. Fish Guts.
Josephine. Josie. Jo. Bandana hat. Hip boots. Blue sweat shirt. Soft hands. Caring.
Circle of stones. Circle of light. Willows. Weenie sticks. Poker sticks. Weenies roasting. Marshmallows burning. Beer cap puzzles. Whittling. Stories. Laughing. Northern lights. Glow of the camper. Muffled conversation. Card games. Hum of the generator. Laughter. Sleeping bags. Scary stories. Blackness. Fear. Quiet.
Ashes. Flowers. Memories.
by Richard Rearick


grief in a suitcase

grief is like a suitcase
not the new type
manufactured of molded plastic
with rollers
and an extendable aluminum handle
it is like the old leather kind
forced into a rectangular shape
with a leather strap handle
And brass corner guards
attached with rivets
like an old steamer trunk

you carry it with you day to day
keeping it close to your side
it’s full and heavy and hard to carry
like a bag of sand
or a cardboard box full of old books
and you lug it with you
everywhere you go
you take it to bed with you
you take it to lunch
you drag it into the shower

sometimes you open it
to confirm its contents
and cry
other times it’s less noticeable
it sits in the corner
sometimes it pops opens on its own
when you stumble over it
in the dark
on your way to the bathroom
or to make some tea
you put it away
out of sight
in the back of the closet
or on a shelf
but it never goes away
you forget about it for a while

Over time it becomes smaller
and lighter
Easier to carry around
Easier to forget about
When you least expect it
You find it again
As time passes it changes
becomes easier to open
you begin to appreciate
its contents
with sadness and joy
and you put away again
for later


I’m walking a line between the road and the rail
Where the colors of life appear worn and pale
An encumbered plot constricted by scale
Narrow in width a perpetual trail

The weeds creep in from edges defined
Finding their way from the world outside
Bounded by fringes that boarder the mind
Staking their claim in a world confined

A solace refuge void of purpose and place
Where order’s created by nature displaced
The edges littered with wanton waste
Defining a path that beckons a way

Searing asphalt and creosote soaked dust
A solace refuge void of purpose and trust
Good intentions found corrupt
Impartial judgment armored with rust

Parallel lines that converge on the horizon
No turns, bends, or perceptible deviation
I’m moving forward in a single direction
Step by step, section by section

A surface scoured through time and neglect
Forged with bitterness and aimless contempt
Harboring souls of life’s reject
Between the space where lines connect

Forging ahead through life’s betrayal
Hoping for passage of conductors hail
Watching trains pass to no avail
Living between the road and the rail

Flurry of Silence

Winters day

the north wind blows

Flake by flake

the building snow

Gentle layer

upon layer grows

A silent world

that no one knows


Minute by minute

the hours pass

Creeping upward

a velvet cast

Flurry of silence

a permissive mass

Whispering answers

to questions asked


The deeper it gets

the further I go

Into the abyss

consumed with snow

Layer on layer

I fall below

To a place

where no one knows


When day dawns

barely a trace

Covered in white

a world replaced

A blanket of silence

void of space

Beyond the storm

a better place

Frozen in Time


The glare of the sun on the ice
My hand on my brow squinting eyes
A plane of water frozen in time
Across the distance the shore climbs
I step on the surface expecting a sound
A statement of reject of solid ground
My foot slides forward searching for permission
To pass with purpose and quiet discretion
The snap of the ice in protest and precision
An invitation to pass is neither offered nor given
Solid ground is forfeit as I establish my position
Slowly advancing, I stand, and I listen
I move further toward a certain commitment
Where there is no turning back, a hopeless instant
I pause for a moment to survey my condition
Of the ice, my footing, the whole situation
That’s when a rumble confirms my conviction
Seeking me out in a cry of rebellion
Faltered reason, a misplaced calculation
My trust is breached in an act of persuasion
A fools trespass, the price of admission
Water replaces air, balancing the equation

Outside Looking In


I’m on the outside looking in
They’re on the inside looking out
They don’t see me standing here
I’m an apparition earthly bound

Through the glass the world is warped
Glowing with the warmth of life
Through my lens the lights refract
Growing darker with the night

I’m in the corners out of view
Muffled sounds growing dim
Shadows mask my soul from you
I’m an outsider looking in

A touch of warmth filters through
To my fingers pale and throbbing
The cool glass returns the touch
Reality diverges as I am watching

A stony glance from within
Corner’s eye condemning
I’m on the outside once again
Callous glares compounding

Outward looking from the sphere
Reverse polarity turns and bends
Watching life from behind the weir
I’m an outsider looking in

Lovely days pass hours daunting
Light yields drawing darkness in
Dread of night, shadows haunting
Another night begins

Invisible people passing by
Gnashing teeth and crawling skin
I’m watching them with staring eyes
They’e on the outside looking in

Fighting battles I can’t win
I’m an outsider looking in