The Writing of Cloud Buchholz

No People can be bound to acknowledge and adore the invisible hand, which conducts the Affairs of men more than the People of the United States. Every step, by which they have advanced to the character of an independent nation, seems to have been distinguished by some token of providential agency.

George Washington, First Inaugural Address, Apr. 30, 1789

America is a nation with a mission, and that mission comes from our most basic beliefs. We have no desire to dominate, no ambitions of empire. Our aim is a democratic peace -- a peace founded upon the dignity and rights of every man and woman. America acts in this cause with friends and allies at our side, yet we understand our special calling: This great republic will lead the cause of freedom.

George W. Bush, State of the Union Address, Jan. 20, 2004

I think of you sometimes

because I forget not to and

my chest feels like a pair of sandals on the beach

waiting for bare feet

I know you exist somewhere outside of my head

where words drift through the gaps in teeth

and skin is a prophylactic for the soul

but I am here, adjusting my glasses

and my tongue like a child's toy

that needs to be wound

I don't know how to say I love you

but I know the sun is warm and the wind is soft

and that you are as good as both, and better

10-4-2010

I am a used calendar always

off a few days but still

useful for children learning

to count

7-26-2010

I met a door that squeaked

so loud the neighbors woke

and so I burned the walls

around the frame to leave

some chocolates on your bed

XOXO

7-26-2010

you think in pieces like a Ferrari

parted-out dress

all hiked up my eyes wire

cutters for your nylons spread

eagle on my telephone

line leaving me like a box

of puppies outside a

super market bonding

with grocery bags

3-26-09

I would like to see

you wearing steam

from the shower with your

hair in a towel tossed

back rubbing water

from your eyes half

closed and carefree

4-11-08

a tuft of hair

a tier of blond I thimble

around my finger

It falls in stereo

a rudder to your eyes

the blue of which I maim

with blinks

I am no savant, too primal is my touch

too pungent is my smile

like the sombrero I should never wear

4-29-06

you're sandals and sweatpants

your clothes are frozen candy wrappers

I pull off piece by piece

the sheets find the wedging

between your toes

courting the idea like

investing in the Zeppelin

we move together like

sitting on a straw-bottomed chair

until the seat falls through

the windows are in bloom

so let's break the hinges

my hair isn't dead at the roots

but like the sidewalk

it's the boundary of something

like gripping a stair rail in the dark

the stutter of your foot finding air

I like your hair in braids

you have a nice neck

rules of animal-etiquette like

a diagram of a baseball field

I hold my call lean

into myself and say

hello

you say

4-3-06 for Colleen

DNA folding back on

itself spontaneous

proteins activate

ORC binding the shape

changing and we one

and one are simultaneous

2-7-08

sometimes it's good to give

up before she says take me

home

9-6-08

there's no sheets to sleep

summer sweating the

leg hairs cling angled

like a spider walking

toward the crotch unseen

and slow stumbling the dog

curls behind your knees with

dreams of bones and puppy

butts

4-18-08

I'm a nightlight left on

all day, like when you steal

the covers and I feel cold

because someone has to.

7-26-2010

I pushed the sun

outside your room

so we could sleep

without seeing

how close we were

to touching

7-26-10

counting backwards how hide & seek starts

the way the blind rub the notches of their watch

or the rusted chair that doesn't close

like the grass that grows on sidewalks and

how the neighbors talk about the grass

that grows on sidewalks

like yellow spotted leaves brown tipped and eaten through

or taking-in commercial breaks between the news

the way dishes dry in the strainer

like the sweat that stains the bottom of a friend's

Notre Dame baseball hat

like the toys we put in boxes

and give away

5-27-08

watching with a weathered smile

the way your lips curl

around the red of an apple,

I think of you naked

like in the garden of God

my rib's perfect reflection¹

10-31-05

feels like you

lighting me like the orange moon and

a moment's twilight red and cobalt

blue with warm breezes the horizon goes

you come

and me too

4-25-07 for Jasmine

Sometimes, when I think of you,

I feel like a towel full of sand

that's shaken into the shore,

idling on the beach until the ocean rises

to carry me to some far off place.

I am complacent to watch the days graze

the edges of me, to leave me placid

and self-contained, but sometimes,

when I think of you,

my thoughts are dismantled and shipped

to all the places you might go.

I am like a wave that has been kicked

into one thousand tiny pieces,

hoping just one droplet reaches you

before returning.

Sometimes, when I think of you,

you are like the heat of a fevered forehead,

pulling back an open palm of sweat

and I am waiting like a child-

proof bottle of pills.

3-17-2011

I could be the tears

at your funeral

and you would never

know.

7-26-10

like last looks

seeing you in the white

dress with Karin and

your brunette roots grown

back "omg you sluts

look hot!!!" the way you burn a camp

fire or swim with ankles and shins

in Lake Michigan I would have

been the Chicago sky watching

you tan but someday damnit

we'll be poetry together smoking

somewhere in the US like

the hookah you painted in Iowa

or Nashville before ladies night

12-11-07

she touches her stomach

surviving used babies she

thieves thank you's and

more thank you's they say

that's a good name he got

she hears a dozen

new religions moving her

eyes to the tips

of radio towers like

drunk birds waiting

to migrate her breasts

never got swollen she

thinks he'll notice and

be disappointed

3-24-09

like the bottle

caps collected at

age five you

find her thinking

as you are and

as she was

7-2-06

instinctively we breathe

plunging our bodies into motion

before judging the effects

of a lung's worth of air

I bite my nails until they bleed

momentum of my habits

the telephone cuts onions

the idea and the impulse remain

a rabbit came running, came to keep company

the lion was fed and sedated before

it entered the cage

dialog with memory

like jousting lances quick to reach

the reproduction of themselves

back to the original

the ashtrays are brimming

I take my hand away

gently light a cigarette and

watch the smoke sift

inventory of what we find about

the body the force we resist

torrents of tendency

the girl at the counter smiles

I say it's colder now

we touch objects pinned up

in a towel of experience

unity is lost in activity

the mind is impassible

I think we'll manage

we should try and see

I just wanted to say

smoke spirals from my lips

the pressure of gauze

like snow crust

capturing card catalogs of reproductions

a collection of second-hand books

we read and read again

movement originates from a point of rest

comprehension shivers

she reaches out her hand

a helicopter passes overhead

I don't notice

2-27-06

I feel like the quiet

breathing of sleep and

stucco walls

white with the windows

drawn on streetlights

gone

soft with

burnt filament

12-12-07

I touch

you like a half

eaten apple drying

in the hand of

a sleeping afternoon

7-2-06

I slammed the door the other day;

a picture frame fell

the corners were cracked. I couldn't rehang it.

A seascape Monet knockoff,

the kind you buy at the boardwalk.

It was nothing special, except that my mother hated it.

The glass was fine, the picture too.

It was just the boarder

that broke.

There was a little rectangle of white

on the sun-stained wall

10-31-05

Here's some flowers

I thought you'd like.

You should know,

they're going to die

because I cut off their legs.

7-26-2010

I am tired like

the pavement

leading to your door

7-2-06

I.

another day

aching to eat and breathe

while I wait to take

the ripples from the sea

like all the works of days before

that have peeled paint

and gathered shells along the shore

or mornings with the window in the nook

the smell of apples in the sun

and bananas turning soft and brown

and how I thought of taking one

yesterday before you brought them home

II.

The couch cushions are soft from your hips

and how you lay like a morning stretch

then curl about the house like yellow smoke

the smoke that walks through narrow streets

and throws its empty shoes upon the beach

to count the seashells blue and white and red

so how should I presume to wait

and how should I begin

I took your slippers from the dog

and wiped the teeth marks off

and saved them for when you get home

III.

And there will be time to come

and go from room to room

through empty halls and half

shut doors to wonder do I dare

to turn back and wonder still

if your legs have grown too thin

to descend the stairs

or if you'll have me guide you down

with arms that wrap about you like a shawl

the years digress and malinger

but let us still talk of you and I

and cheap hotels and restaurants and

oyster-shells

there will be time after all

(you have said so yourself)

and I am waiting still

IV.

I have stood in the dooryards

and searched the sprinkled streets

to find you so meticulous

walking the stone paths each to each

you seem almost ridiculous

almost a fool but

that is not what I mean at all

V.

Should I hem the bottom of your white

flannel trousers or fix the part

in your hair or be of use

an easy tool

the tea kettle whistles

and I move to the noise

to pour a glass of something warm

to warm our throat and tongue and arms

and all our indecision

drying by the furnace

with your boots and socks

and melting snow

would you say it has been worthwhile

to know the mornings, evenings, and afternoons

to know them all already

can you say just what you mean

in a smile

VI.

I am tired of counting saints

like sheep to sleep so tired

of the moss that grows in cracks

along the fence or rain

that gathers oil in the street

and pools rainbows for our feet

and the wheels of our cars

I have heard you singing as you sleep

like the yellow smoke that lingers on the beach

but I know you do not dream for me

I have felt you turning in the sheets

and I have counted

the white hairs I have left to grow

if you hear a whisper as I leave

it was only to say goodnight

10-21-07

I have no declarations of my own

my life has come and gone

in rented homes

one night dreams

and library books

9-30-07

she said I would be a great

wing man for Mike

I told her I had never

met Mike

she said it was ok Mike only

liked the ugly women

she said the pretty ones were

bitches but great in bed

I thought

she seemed nice

6-2-08

missing you is like running

out of toilet paper or drinking 12 cans of Coors Light

alone like a good first date that ends

with masturbation or the sweet syrup inside

the plastic wrapper of an Otter Pop tilting

your head back your hands pressing down

on the corners to open the slit but isn't it

more like the porno I've never seen

the end of and I told myself I would never settle

for a love poem but that's what missing you is

like a love poem I keep in my wallet

like a photograph I can't throw out

9-20-08

biting like

an infant at love

and loving I learn

to suckle

or starve

7-2-06

I walk the streets at closing time

to find the few drunk patrons

sauntering home. They are crumpled

dollar bills inheriting a recession and

I am aching like a canvas rolled up

and bent beneath a pile of art books (thinking

of you). We could make love

the way a magician shuffles cards

with a broken hand.

It would be like that moment pulling

back the newspaper to see the fly

still twitching a little and

not feeling guilt for swinging

too slow,

but I am at home and cold and certain

you're not here to wear Sunday

morning with me.

You have misunderestimated

my intentions like lukewarm water

trying to unthaw.

How could I make your sweetness sober?

I might need a little help like the woman

waiting to be sawed in half or

the politician promising change.

3-4-2012

a telephone voice you talk eager

ringing and I a hand sliding the sound

into a pocket to be found

later like nickels in the dryer or

dollar bills crumpled clean am

a familiar voice wafered

to your ear

2-7-08

a new species found in a

trench 4,000 meters below sea

level through a crack in the earth's

crust a carnivorous sea squirt

funnel-shaped and almost clear like

a Venus flytrap tethered to the sea

floor the Tasman Fracture they say

there's just as much to study but

less to find with climate change

and CO2 levels on the rise and I

wonder if in Australia they care

about AIG giving more than 1 million

dollars each to 75 employees the

financial products division focused

on high-risk mortgage-backed

securities or user content rights in

the Facebook terms of service (which

is now revised) or the 70's radical Sara

Jane Olson released from California

prison and her return to being a Minnesota

housewife or the green glass soda bottle

from the Mexican grill that's

reflecting the sun into neon

lines along the windowsill and white

stucco walls where we

wait for a menu and

a place to sit

3-17-09

blanketing

your feet for

warmth you lie

on the floor near

the dog and

the fireplace

7-2-06

only $19.95 late

night plus shipping

and handling the channel

without the remote I finger

the phone and fall

asleep

7-2-06

I am, and my father was before,

continuing his thread of restlessness and excess

wasting strength on silence and plenty of good beer

and that's enough

this routine to the end

Explain why we think as we do

with retracted words we rescue

to speak a minute with you

to draw back into

the capacity of my throat

the tapering of my tongue

She lays her hands upon this house

already in silence a testimony

the clouds are drawn to shade them

every contour

and rendering

We fall to bed and subside

close the lenses of our eyes

this mattress and our tugging at the sheets

pulling too tight to discover your thigh

passionate, revealing

something in us stealing away

I listen with half a smile as your feet touch the floor

contempt collecting in the hall sweeping to the door

to speak a minute with you

to draw back into

another apology

or inbred sentiment

Your cheek-bones catch the light

and mark the present hour

5-7-06

like a fly caught between a window and its blinds

we know skin when our finger first finds

touch is the force of

lust like numbering snowflakes is a season that covers

the roads are always straight except at the

bend of your elbow or the pocket of a fist though

my hand never moves past the click of your wrist

watch the laces of your shoes before you trip

on the weight of a name or a

question the cracks and cradle holes of a groaning point of

view, with leather gloves and a syringe, the after-lives of little

animals don't burn nicotine but we do

4-23-06

After three years my shoes wore out

I still haven't bought a new pair

I have thick socks the kind just

long enough to keep your ankles

warm she says she'll buy me

a new pair of shoes she says

she wants to I told her

no

11-10-07

I don't mind walking behind cute women

or scraping tape from old posters on sign posts

those few minutes digging the nail in or the eye

like the plastic cup on the counter holding a dollar

in dimes I sprawl like freedom and the west

coast touching your arm your look

like finding ketchup on your napkin "I

don't know," you say "I think so. She's pretty

anyway." Like a book with perfect binding

my America with drawn on eyebrows and lips just so

red the collar kisses she gives stain the skin

you shake your head "I'm not lonely" you say "I'm not

alone anyway and these barstools are comfortable."

The coffee doesn't keep us up, it only warms our hands

"I don't mind this sunrise" "and scrambled eggs" you add

a little cream to your coffee and stir like you're

walking with your hands full

CNN is counting for us in the corner muted

and we don't mind not looking

for water-stained silverware the waitress laid on another napkin

"We could eat with our hands"

"Like animals at 4 AM"

1-31-08

"The Third Heaven" was inspired by 2 Corinthians 12:3

For Gary

I. the death of a thief after sunrise²

to love like chalk on sidewalks

being flooded by a garden hose

or dust that gathers on shoulders

of closeted clothes we

linger like rocks collecting the sun³

in front lawns, outside restaurants,

and shopping malls

waiting for the leaves to fall

in April afternoons

when rain has made

it hard to breathe

(and we sleep on our sides

with our knees)

did we share half an apple over breakfast⁴

or a slice of toast

or an evening walk with winter coats

have I known you already

have I let your smell linger with mine

days couple

and weeks and years

like casual t-shirts

worn and still worn⁵

"do you have the paper is it Tuesday

will it rain again today

should I wear a jacket red or blue

with a white umbrella and boots

there's room for two if you stay

close" and slouch a little

everyday

"is the coffee ready

have you fed the cats

are we out of milk

and clean spoons"

"why is it always so cold in this house

we never will be warm enough⁶

now" wrapped in

remnants like the dew mist

that doesn't wait⁷

like the first ripe fruit

shaken from the branch

into the mouth⁸

or the days we live in context

do we love the same after sunrise

in the evening do we steal away

have I known you already

have I felt your heels curved edge like

a bag that hangs on a shoulder

or the blue veins in your neck when you run

to love like

crumbs collecting in the

corners of the kitchen floor

or pocketed receipts you are

the perfume of your hair

in a crowded room or passing

in a walk and those days before

half shut doors and

open beds we chase

minutes framed in glass

hanging in the hall like

dry stems of grass living

in the cracks of rocks⁹

rain waits for us in its season

fruit waits for us in its tree¹⁰

on every high hill and under every spreading

tree we are born

as sparks flying upward¹¹

again and

everyday "I am

and there is none besides me."

For Karin

II. a day the east wind blows¹²

to love like buried toy soldiers

we find when we're much

older bare ankled in

backyards half

naked and golden-brown waiting

as children chasing

the wind¹³ with cupped

hands and eyes

closed

have I known you already

have I let your smell linger with mine

like cigarette tips

in ashtrays on the patio table

your remains intermingle

with mine

loving you like

the crackeling of thorns under a pot or

a heart full of nets¹⁴

10-24-07 - 6-14-08

weary time let me breathe.

the hope of today has come and left.

a shallow slumber is how I rest.

weary time carried by a winter wind let me breathe you in.

open my lungs

before you pass.

give me hope.

let me rest.

weary time.

weary time,

blow hard and swift.

I am waiting for your kiss to pass.

12-24-03

blossoms

drowsy pink and white

compliment her eyes

unlacing

consigned to capture

a crowded yearning

to construct another year

now falling

like her lips with words

responding

1-29-06

The day undresses

and stretches along the street

to curl between the wheels of cars

as cold commuters carry their faces

in cellophane jars of ambition.

In the evenings they avenge their hopes

with promises of more like collecting hotel pens

from places that they've never been.

They kiss their kids and wear the walls

of their homes to bed, dreaming like a

goldfish floating to the surface

belly-up,

and when they wake, they stave off death

by growing ears on mice

and building 5 minute abs

while the weather man predicts

their wardrobe.

3-19-2011

hearing our name for the first

time and knowing it belongs

to us doesn't keep us

years later

2-5-08

I.

Fish circle the tank

ploughing the brain

numberless and

not exactly comfortable

I flake the surface. They nibble like

small feet for the first time touching

gravel I negotiate time by counting

time spent a dripping faucet filling a sink

that will one day be drained

I once thought death could be captured

in a shoebox buried

in the backyard

he had a freezer in the garage and

the four of us would sit

in lawn chairs and drink fruit flavored soda

I thought he would go to the X-games

he loved Matt Hoffman¹, loved riding

his first bike had teethed-pedals and he

learned to move his feet fast and when he

wasn't fast enough, how to bandage his shins

connections are collisions of surrender

atoms clash in a symmetry of reaching

to stay close, to move away, to try returning

like a hammer pulling nails from a wall

only to push them back in again

his mother found him one afternoon

in his room holding a shotgun

she reached out

a field touching a shot and fallen bird

the sun navigates the earth as

something felt but never touched

flowers twist their stems

attempting a height beyond cultivation

basic truths are fewer than conclusions

I know that now, but even this will be

recycled

II.

Skin is a story of genealogies and

dusty furniture

sitting with the window open

helps to keep pace with the sun

I hold an appendage of light long enough

to trace the patterns of a flaking self

we played football in the summer with

the heat and one jug of water

I learned to throw a spiral with his

special grip red and gold 49's football

he always wore shoes I ran barefoot

perception is a form of contact influenced by appetite

like picking dark garden tomatoes

and waiting to eat them

the movement of every muscle in slow-motion

can't relate the entire action

like reading newspaper headlines

or ordering groceries over the phone

I stood five feet from the casket

his open eyepits were clayed over

we spoke words without consonants

raked leaves into heaps and bagged them

checked for cracks packed in egg-boxes

cause is the end and origin of change

his mother is slow answering

her eyes are amber cannons

engaged fountains of icicles

a long line of mourners wait

to embrace her, her husband, and

their remaining son

the moment rain becomes snow

she speaks, her tongue striking

something that sounds hollow

when tired the head duck falls back

but never escapes

the currents of the continental self

3-16-06

of ankles and fingernails

eating their weight

in sugar water and

salt enough to stand

upright like a sign

post or stop light searching

cracker boxes for real

cheddar cheese sweating it

off in the car with the windows

up and the sun shaking

the hand not clutching the steering

wheel too confident

to vomit more water and sleep

the only remedy to hold back

judgment Jesus fasted 40 days¹ and spoke

to Satan about temptation

6-13-08

in concrete hotel beds

he is an unwormed hook

holding a collection of ties

and smiles

he prays to an empty wall

with a broken spined bible until

his lungs are full of glass

and his glistening tongue cuts

dead eyed soul shoppers

with forgiveness

he wears his morality like an unfurled napkin

doused in perfume, making love

to his wife like a spoon filled

with cough syrup

on Sundays he sleeps through

the afternoon until his dreams

wrinkle and his hopes are blue veins

returning to his heart

he thinks about the angels that remain

vigilant voyeurs and he wonders

what they might say if he ever

saw them

3-29-2011

like the cigarette

burn in the backseat

of your blue Chevy how

hard you held me in

the afternoon after

school the smell of rem-

embering on your

breath the glass

bottle you hid in

the desk near

the bed catching pieces of

what you left like

picking pennies

from a parking lot

8-10-06

I am the captive of my mind –

the walls of thought,

and bars of time;

They hold me against myself –

they are my crime

as though the fall was my design

or the preface of my story.

I stand alone

and gear the gear that once turned me;

my pace, like his, too slow to number

Count me as I am, not as any other,

framed as no one's image.

I am on the pavement passing

While he lives by stop and go

is he wandering,

and decaying views of hope?

He laughs to laugh

and tickles passing dreams of mine

with promises.

I sour at their taste

and fear the power of his absence

I wash my head, awake, and accept the day.

II.

All time is spent on yesterday ––, my prison and still,

passing my childhood lodgings,

the garden and the tree,

and the sweet innocence

I loved and said nothing,

and the rain that fell

I felt but couldn't see,

And I climbed into the tree — branch by branch, to yesterday,

the preface of my story.

In the clearing of my broken home, I prayed,

he stayed.

In the neutral swing of drunken fists, she bled,

we fled.

Back and forth

I lift my arms with pains to reach for heaven,

the reason to all answers,

concealed inside myself, sheltered in my dreaming.

I am not the same son in the morning

There is no change without control or cause.

I wash my lungs, awake, and breathe the day.

III.

I have myself to blame... not father, home, or

years that held no time.

Alone, within his raging strain of life –

I descend,

Taming all the hatred but my own,

breaking limbs and leaves as I fall.

I drag his drunken corpse along the mud,

through still and silent moments

from freezing drifts of thought,

bless and kiss his bottle to my lips.

Death stands my surest friend,

numbs my future

breaks me from myself.

I wash my eyes, awake, and realize

I am the captive of my mind –

the walls of thought,

and bars of time;

They hold me against myself –

they are my crime

as though the fall was my design

or the preface of my story.

12-9-05 for Rick

a circle of salt around a snail as

a child I was cruel waiting

to see it cross

the path, bubble, and sink into its thin

shell, not so different now I

watch a crowd

walk the white

lines of the

crosswalk

3-20-08

of you and the winter

we spent parked along the curb

outside my house and how

you kissed the shoulder of my shirt

goodbye in cold morning breath

like pressed flowers shaken

from a book or all the looks

and hands of a crowd

rising up and falling down

8-8-07

Some are meant to be slaves

and happier that way in

the sentiment of Hollywood

histories on VH1

8 die in a Nebraska mall² and

this process of economic law that

educates the few touched

by it is last night's news

Deputy practicing gun draw kills wife

Skateboarders find newborn in dumpster

Model's new ear created from her rib cage

Man beats boy for pink fingernails

Mall Santa says woman groped him 2003

32.7 million prescriptions of Zoloft

Christopher Pittman "is the nation's only inmate serving

such a harsh sentence for an offense committed

at such a young age."

Plumas County spends $20,000 to find lost family

Too much rain in Savannah, Georgia 7 inches in 3 days

Sheila Botelho left her job in the curtains department

for a $5 Powerball ticket purchased in

a Rhode Island convenience store

"At our age, we don't even buy green bananas."

2007 milk prices increased 23.2 percent

Pam Anderson files for divorce after 2 months

Salomon made Paris Hilton sex tape

Reginald Potts, murder suspect, uses Myspace page

to defend himself. Potts listed his mood as "hopeful."

"You don't understand what it takes to be me..."

"I did my best." Maribel Rodriguez says "I'm →

deeply devastated with you"

Man dressed in black poses as priest in order

to charge merchandise to church account

David Hasselhoff finally reaches financial,

custody terms with ex-wife

New Jersey becomes first state in 42

years to abolish death penalty

Suit over 'Winnie the Pooh' socks costs school

district $95,000 in legal fees

Redwood Middle School may no longer

require students to wear solid-color clothing

Kevin Federline's lawyer says he'll seek

sanctions against Spears for skipping deposition

Disease-free woman received HIV

treatments for nine years awarded $2.5 million

Teacher accused of sex with student tells

judge she was under 13-year-old's control

"I really thought it just might go away," Peterson

said "I have betrayed your trust" Marion Jones returns

5 medals she won in Sydney

Relay team members asked

to return their medals as well

"This record is not tainted at all. At

all. Period." 756 home runs

"This is it. This is where it

all ends. End of the road. What a

life it was. Some life." Cho Seung-hui 23

years old 32 killed

Orlistat with lipase after a meal

absorbs up to 30% of fat

New Orleans' population reaches

295,450 based on utility hookups

2007 National Oilwell Varco stock +128%

Sgt. Lawrence Hutchins, 23, sentenced to

15 years in the brig for the murder of

Hashim Ibrahim Awad in Hamdania Baby

Jesus equipped with GPS after theft

Clinton donates personal

saxophone to The American Jazz Museum December

18th Charges dismissed in Natalee Holloway case

Jennifer Garner in Oscar de la Renta snags

the Icon Next Door award escaped

tiger kills zoo visitor, injuring

2 others Dotson said he left

a black AK-47-style rifle in the closet so

his ex-wife could protect herself and

the girls against intruders

Barack Obama bust made of

23 lbs of butter

2007 new home sales hit

12-year low 647,000 worst level since

April 1995 builders wait 6.2 months

to sell a completed home northern

right whale spotted off

Brevard County beaches

AMEX oil and gas index up 30 percent in '07

Sergio Baca and Chad Altman, both 22, accused

in Albuquerque Abortion Clinic Fire Dec. 6th Baca's

former girlfriend planned to have an abortion Jim

Leyritz charged after DUI death of

Fredia Ann Veitch, age 30, the mother of

two children ages 5 and 13 Constance

Smith charged with Cruelty to

Children in the 1st Degree www.SitterCity.com had

no comment on their screening process Al

Gore and the U.N. Intergovernmental

Panel on Climate Change awarded 2007

Nobel Peace Prize Mattel CEO, Bob Eckert,

apologizes as company recalls millions

of toys made in China "I'm so sorry →

for what I've put you through I

never meant to hurt all of you so

much and I don't blame any one of you

for disowning me I just can't be a burden

to you and my friends any longer You

are all better off without me. I'm so sorry

for this" Letterman and Ferguson return

Wednesday with writers Andres Garcia, 22,

apprehended about 5 a.m. Sunday at

San Diego's San Ysidro border crossing

Staff Sgt. Frank Wuterich, 27, will

face a court-martial on reduced charges

stemming from the killing of 24 Iraqi men,

women and children in Haditha in 2005 a

McDonald's employee, Danielle Miller, 16, gives

birth in bathroom, baby boy Austin is

recovering well Sara Jane Moore, 77, was

released on parole from a federal prison in

California after 32 years Lindsay

Lohan served 84 minutes in Los Angeles

County women's detention center

in Lynwood last month after pleading

guilty to misdemeanor drunken driving

and cocaine charges "I've just snapped I →

can't take this meaningless existence anymore I've

been a constant disappointment and that trend

would have only continued. just remember the good

times we had together

I love you mommy

I love you dad

I love you Kira

I love you Valancia

I love you Cynthia

I love you Zach

I love you Cayla

I love you Mark (P.S. I'm really

sorry)" Starbucks shares sank 5.2

percent in afternoon trading on

the Nasdaq $19.34 the lowest price since

2004 Edward Lagrone, executed in

Texas February 11, 6:18 p.m "I

didn't go in there and kill them, but I'm

no better than the people that did. Jesus

is Lord. That's all I have to say." Jeremy

Sisto joins Law & Order for

18th season December 31st vandals ransack Robert

Frost's Homer Noble Farm beer bottles and

vomit found in living room San Francisco

zoo reopens 9 days after tiger, Tatiana, mauled and

killed Carlos Sousa Jr., 17, injuring two

others Kulbir Dhaliwal, 23, and Paul

Dhaliwal, 19, Mike Huckabee TV ad features

Chuck Norris for secure borders 8

Massachusetts auto dealerships have agreed

to pay a total $290,000 in penalties after

the state accused the businesses of "asterisk

pricing" "It should go without saying that

the vitality of these constitutional principles

cannot be allowed to yield simply because of

disagreement with them." William Shatner, 76, has

played the role of Priceline.com spokesman for 10

years, 6 years longer than his time spent as Captain

Kirk on Star Trek Jamie Lynn Spears appears

on the cover of OK! magazine Dec. 31st

2007 announcing that she is

pregnant the number of consumer bankruptcy

filings reached 801,840 a

40% increase compared to 573,203 in

2006 says the American Bankruptcy Institute Tracinda

Corp acquires 35% stake in Delta

Petroleum Corp for $684 million Kirk

Kerkorian named his company after his

daughters Tracy and Linda Chief

Thomas Warren of the Omaha

Police Department called the shooting

"premeditated," but said it "appears to be very

random and without provocation."

12-17-07 - 1-3-08

I think our bodies could have been

like two paper clips uncircling,

but when you're gone I feel

like naked teeth touching

coffee mugs -

when you're gone my days slip

apart like used postit! notes -

when you're gone my dreams

are perforated and I can't

find the pieces

2-13-2011 for Colleen

Polaroid postures like tin

can airplanes hanging

from the ceilings of

abandon bar rooms she is

waiting like a hospital

phone or the untied

shoelaces of her son

7-2-06

So slow she goes to fold the grass with her

toes. Watching from the window where I wait

for her return, I wonder why she steps

so lightly like the lingering brown leafs

of December. A day ago we spoke

as children small speak fumbling with fin-

gers reaching "Did you hear the moth tap-tap

the window?" "No." She says slow rolling to

her side as she turns on the light. "I just--

I thought I heard something upon the glass."

"The tap." "The tap?" "The tap a bug had made

against the glass." "Why would you wake me up

for that? Go back to bed." She seemed to say,

the pillow pressed to half her head. "I am..."

9-20-06

always different they are

standing in line

a pink skirt that doesn't touch the floor

glasses and white pants

coffee two cups by the door

"I woke up considering your silver heart

earrings perky breasts and

"I know" the elevator goes up

laughing shoes shuffle through jarred

fireflies and red fire ants

her eyes his hands

11-19-07

the groom in the lobby wearing

white like the bride

young with friends he adjusts

his light blue bowtie his smile

of midnight vows, the aisle to walk

and wait she waits white

still with butterflied cheeks each

step to the alter measured

and timed the piano plays

something old and

slow she looks to

his light blue bowtie, his smile her

smile now and the rest

of her life

1-12-08

he's open

mouthed with black tennis shoes and

white socks wearing her arm on his

shoulder she's a blue button up

shirt and black socks leaning

her head into his arm not

smiling but not sad watching

the Toshiba slow he taps his

foot she follows too in pink

no-laced shoes laughing

now her chest bounces locked with

her arms crossed her foot touching his shin and

stopping there

4-8-08

blue flannel round face red

cheeks braless with brunette

roots holed jeans at the knee smiling

with her lower lip crossed

arms for cleavage she

checks the center

of her chest

2-26-08

I smell the painted

toenails of

my sister before

they do but they

will smell them soon too.

7-2-06

I am a series of Bruce Campbell cameos¹

rousing your cult following from retirement.

Or I could be Hannah Montana topless for Vanity Fair²

your lust a mother searching for airbrushed nipples.

Or perhaps you would want me as Pope Benedict's³

ruby red shoes hurrying through your crowded

faith filled hopes. Or would you have me

be Stephanie Swift⁴ kissing with her eyes closed?

No, I am an open-boxed item, repackaged & reduced

by a few dollars -- overstocked & discontinued...

3-19-12

tornado watching we were streets

without wheels kissing faces without

lips fixed in a corner with bottled water

eyes in a basement of cement Grandpa was

gone all the nouns had left his tongue

11-20-07

eyes were narcotics of criticism

twisting him with one hand, mind enthralled, liberty deprived

circles under his eyes, bent double, lodging soapbox steps -

threatening speeches spiraled from his nostrils

thrown palely upon the opposite wall -

a wide-awake pattern approaching confinement.

tense muscles restraining bed sheets

commentaries on a combination of nerve ends, cigarettes bludgeoning,

contriving to lock -

precise and unbiased observations of everyday life.

doubted, he, white collar fastened at the throat with

a far-reaching question, held precautionary vigilance

over a thorn-choked garden plot

he turned adrift, creating lines of motion

like a worm or a snarl of wool

unaccustomed to the chilliness of night

11-23-05

like two sleepers rapt in sheets

ready to be ripened when the

morning breaks their dreams

routines the semblance of

what was prior

the quiver of "goodnight"

and the relapse to retire

into what they'll never publish

4-30-06

in case

of fire do

not use

elevator use

stairs

2-28-08

when God is something we live

through another TV dinner another

girls gone wild video another

morning paper thrown under the car and

news of Paris Hilton karaoke we

pray but not so

hard just enough to get through

the day and God

seems to listen like the Macy's

weekend sale or the DVD coming

Tuesday and the momentary

buzz between call and caller

ID steals how much of our

lives the preacher is saving

jokes for Sunday and the sanctuary

seats truth becomes a matter of

repetition another TV dinner another

girls gone wild video another

morning between Fruit Loops and

Cocoa Pebbles what would Stephen

Covey do I miss this

country that I've never left we pray

under God and in God

we trust and through God we

live another day of red

white and blue

1-23-08

He wanders with a bag full of clothes

to the closest machine. A thick smell of Clorox rising

from the stained-white, tile-tattered linoleum floor. Air hot,

dry with bleach burning chemicals.

He lets loose his clothes with a five quarter jingle. The machine

starts in. He steps outside with thirsty minutes to waste.

an old wooden bench wrinkled with age

a book's worth of paper humping the curb

a vending machine - Marlboro pressed to its frame

a loitering sign NO PARKING it shouts

He moves slow to the cigarette dispenser examines

every warning, every pack, every label.

With a hand full of change he closes

his eyes remembering the smell, imagining the past,

pressing the button grabbing the red trimmed pack. Against

splintering wood he sits, pulls a cylinder from the box

two fingers to hold it with a fencer's finesse

the smell of his father dancing between fingers as if his soul was

trapped in the plastic wrapped pack.

With every pump of his lung, time folds on itself - years once

stretched twirl lightly in hand.

A chemical kiss with a cigarette tip

like a Father's bedtime good night to his son.

Without a match

the memory fades.

9-7-05

my muscles move together

geared pages I pace and retrace

a binding of thoughts curiosity's untethered

I study the lines of your face

faint tracks in the grass like dog-

eared pages I pace and retrace

to find my beginning -- our prologue

wrapped in a worn coat, brushing us in passing

like faint tracks in the grass or dog-

day stories we tell to be telling

just sentimental lunatics craving first draft romance

wrapped in worn coats, brushed by in passing.

in the morning I measure your countenance

kiss the corners of my room

a sentimental lunatic craving first draft romance

but the hope is a sweet perfume

you kiss to the corners of my room.

my muscles move to get her

a binding of thoughts, curiosities untethered

4-16-06

Empty halls of afternoon

sun slow like the calves of old

men waking to wives with thighs

wrinkled white and sagging breasts

slow to rise with breath and eyes

empty still with sleep of nights

younger louder restless hot

sweating smooth with open palms

pressed to dresses orange and green

buttoned half way up with seams

stretched to hips and hard men's grins

going soft

4-10-08

I am a white-eyed fruit fly failing

at your eugenics -- slow and unexpectedly

off because

my love is provoked never practiced

and sadness is a process we learn

like writing the letters of our name --

each day unbuttoned and laid

across the backs of chairs to be put away

or piled, but

some sweetness remains

like the sticky fingers of sugary

children --

some sweetness nuzzles your old

traditions like a cat curling against

your naked shins.

Some sweetness has been crushed and pulverized

into the book upon your lap...

3-20-12

I'm

tempted to talk when

I see your red-vested smile.

Your eyes index my mind

into columns and rows

and so

I stut-ter

in

neatly wrap - ped

pack - ages

of let-ters and sounds.

10-31-05

a good poem

is like reading

your nametag or

waiting for your

plastic straws to

put in my cup so

simple the words

you say to so

many everyday the

best kind of poetry

4-19-08 for Tawnee

is yours till we meet again

so don't let it catch the wind

till you close your eyes and send

a wish to kiss me then

11-8-07

Our eyes

are carpeted

beige for babies

to lay

peacefully.

2-19-08

Edition 1.3.5 Notes [10-13-2012]

-added 6 pre-revised poems from the original edition to ebook

-Aren't We, Weren't We
-A Series of Commas
-I Think We All Agree, the Past is Over
-Lazy like the Tips of Her
-Like Someone Splashed Soda Up Against the Wall
-Recognize the Cracks in

-added Edition History links to ebook
-added Alphabetical List of Poems w/hyperlinks to ebook
-added 12 new footnotes to ebook (1 to website)
-removed excessive empty space between poems/dates in ebook
-added improved HD cover (1000x1500, 143dpi)
-improved HTML for EPUB 3 in ebook
-2% smaller file size for poems in ebook

Edition 1.3 Notes [3-27-2012]

-added 6 poem titles

-Collecting There
-At a Distance: Sorry
-The Couple
-Kinder Nights
-Herself, Grown
-Content

-added 3 new poems

-The 1st Kiss
-The Cool Nights
-The Work-Week Heart

-revised 2 poems

-Like Someone Splashed Soda Up Against the Wall
-Aren't We, Weren't We

-added Edition 1.0 notes
-fixed title spacing for "Closeness"
-changed indents for "Weary Time"
-updated Table of Contents
-minor tweaks and improvements
-enhanced cover
-75 poems total

Edition 1.2 Notes [3-30-2011]

-added 5 new poems

-late
-watching you tan
-the romantic
-Closeness
-The 2nd Year Anniversary

-revised 3 poems

-Lazy like the Tips of Her [8-9-06]
-A Series of Commas [2-12-08]
-Recognize the Cracks [7-19-06]

-fixed poem title font
-fixed linked footnotes
-fixed and updated Table of Contents
-minor tweaks and improvements

Edition 1.1 Notes [3-13-2011]

-formatting tweaks and minor fixes
-added footnotes from print version
-optimized formatting for ebook

Edition 1.0 Notes [3-13-2011]

-First Print book published 3-26-2010
-First Smashwords ebook published 3-13-2011
-67 poems total

The American Idlers is a collection of 67 75 poems that explore the fragile and fleeting moments of two young lovers as their relationship and intimacy gets punctuated by political tension, disillusionment, and the invisible hand of freedom.

As the two lovers idle, they glimpse an America full of zealots, soldiers, sluts, salesmen, suicide, and self-determination. In their chaotic and multi-voiced vision of freedom, the two lovers discover the present tense pregnant with possibilities and, in that brief moment, they see the world for what it is: infinite.

Poetry by Cloud Buchholz

Copyright © 2010 Cloud Buchholz