"flagstaff" poems
Hey kid, I woke up buzzing, here
In the future ruins of ancient America.
Staring, after the imperial sunrise,
Listening to Los Angeles on repeat.
Insistent and purple, only
Sediment left in the
Bottles of night.
This third-world way
Causes Third World War
So I'm drinking at a
Tavern on the End.
The bus goes by, and
"Baseball's the worst sport."
Alliteration, allusion,
Colors, characters,
And metaphors.
Sobriety sending me
Searching for smoke.
Rehash, re-up, and "read the ****** thing." My world-view,
Out-maneuvering your
Upbringing.
(The memories I have are white and yellow.
Fogged, not angry, if even confused.
You'd call me, after finishing your nightly readings, to cry about the characters you'd loved, and castigate my inability to care.
Remember when you used "undermined" to describe the adaptation?
You meant that it was "assuming too much.")
"Brenda and Eddie," over here,
"Couldn't go back to the greasers" so they
Wound up at your family's tavern.
"You look like the fat kid,
On whom the popular girl was
Forced to settle."
Dear Man,
Woman's found you out. Or
Are we, justly, doomed to be
More juvenile?
Worn sole, soul-open, "so long,
Kid, I don't know you, but,
I can't help myself from
Destroying you."
(My upbringing: out-maneuvering
Your world-view.)
"You've always been the caretaker, Flagstaff."
The bait's in your brain.
You've simply been
Overlooking the barkeep.
(Dear Diary, could I just die already?
The Price is Life, and purgatory's a game show.
Anger, the color of your mother.
Skin, the shade of yard-work.
Staring at road maps of Virginia, stoic.
Trying to divine the diners we'd die in.)
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
Tried to visit Petrified Forest but my stomach said no
Didn't really mind it cause it didn't have much to show
We drove on route 40 and a hot guy kept following us
When he had waved 20 times we were like "Okay, enough!"
In Flagstaff I got to check in at my very first motel
It was way cooler than the Dallas hotel!
We wanted to get wasted so we went out to find a bar
Some Germans were playing pool, they couldn't speak English at all
Shots! Shots! Shots!
Two of them were actually quite hot.
After some drinks we lost each other in the dark
Thankfully both remembered were the car was parked
Hungover as **** we left for Grand Canyon
I was so excited to see it with my favorite companion
The size of it was greater than I had imagined it to be
and squirrels were practically climbing up my knee
An idiot lady had her dogs locked in the car
***** was lucky that I didn't have a crowbar
Still missed our turkey but deers were walking free
When the heat almost killed us it was time to leave
It was one of the most amazing things I've ever experienced
But for Vegas we left to see something completely different!
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 8:03 AM UTC
[page 1] I already regret writing this to you. I already regret sharing this with you. I've already told you, before, but I'm bursting---I'm skidding, like my brakes are busted--- bottling-it-all, inside. And, a wise man once told me, "If it's eating you up, you should ink it, all-out." I just wish I could remember whose words those were.
Sometimes, when I'm searching the Rolodex, for the right-scene, you've been around, to remind me. [Almost-like, you'd read along.] You tell me, you assume "I'm always awake," and, I would only elaborate: with-fear, my dear, for falling asleep would draw you back, to my dreams.
See, and I've said this (to much poorer souls than yours), [page 2] before I allow my ambitions the axiom, certainty must surround the word "love" like an aura. My so-flawed system of authentication, of authority, in my own-hearted matters, starts and ends with my dreaming. Only three romances have recurred. Randomness is much more regular. Rarely do my dreams speak with structure, or in-a-story. That real random. [The reason I'm a poet?] Flying symbols, from "seven hells," heavens, or highways. If you left the top-down, or had a bad-day.
[Relax, Flagstaff]
sighs
[Ready, again?]
Ready.
...
Jul 25, 2015
Jul 25, 2015 at 4:19 AM UTC
Mountain peaks and street lights,
Old hotel signs and train tracks.
Pine trees and rooftops,
Coffee shops and secret spots.
The ocean of sky surrounded us
like a blanket of stardust.
The city swelled with love
And I was home.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 7:27 PM UTC
From Austin on to Pensacola
from there I went to South Dakota
Moved on back to Arizona
Just trying to start a life
Went from Flagstaff to Daytona
then headed out just past Pamona
hung around and hit Sedona
Just trying to start a life
It didn't matter where I was
I had to move on just because
She'd find me in my dreams
I shut my eyes but couldn't sleep
Her image in my mind would creep
She'd find me in my dreams
Spent some time down in L.A.
There she was so I couldn't stay
Went and moved to Spanish Bay
But there she was again
Found a place in Monte Ray
only stayed there for a day
went down south down by Queens Cay
But, she followed me again
I shut my eyes and I did find
Her image burned into my mind
The girl was in my dreams
Although I tried to start anew
There was nothing I could say or do
And you should have heard my screams
I tried again, but had no luck
I even slept inside a truck
I woke up cuddled with a duck
And again her in my dreams
I'd been all 'round this country side
I'd walked, and flew and hitched a ride
It may be better if I died
But, I'm sure she'd find those dreams
I'm sure it didn't matter where
She didn't really care
She would always haunt my dreams
Hair so blonde and eyes of blue
I just can not get rid of you
You'll never leave my dreams
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
I don't know,
how to turn on my heels
and leave you lonely,
even if it would be better for us both.
And I don't know
how to use the arms
that hold you close at night
to push you away
even though I know I need too.
I am beginning to find too much comfort
in your scars
too much laughter by your side,
too much sweetness in your kisses
and I do not want to be that close to someone again.
Because today I received a letter
thick and important,
giving me my freedom
to leave this town I have lived in my whole life,
and you.
I will leave you too.
I am going to go
788 miles away from your sleepy eyes
and messy hair.
I want to,
I want to fall into a world
where no one knows me,
and I will be cleansed
by the blanket
of anonymity.
I am still figuring out,
how to fold my fingers into yours
without holding on too tightly,
but I will keep your name in my pocket,
your words beneath my tongue,
and I will leave.
I will leave.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 12:25 AM UTC
The Queen, snowed-in, stopped for
Cigarettes and milk
Then drove another hundred.
The Governor told her not to.
I suppose I did too.
But it's two weeks later and
I'll be ****** if we've heard
From her.
Passionate about black lines,
And smaller yellow ones,
Metal arches, sweating salt
Since stained rain came,
And big green signs,
With numbered shields.
She said, before she left, that she felt,
"Like a consequence.
Something that is constantly flaunting
How severe it is.
A recourse, to a long-forgotten mistake,
That just learns to be dealt with."
Traversing the wasteland of white
Can teach you a thing, or
Three. Like how you're not ready
To move upwards, if the
Phantom's shovel keeps filling
In your igloo.
Every time she left,
I wrote myself down.
Stories about how, when, and who
Should-Be-Growing,
And the day she lost Heyworth's smile.
I changed her name.
Poetic license, and whatnot.
It doesn't take long to
Realize, picture or
No picture, they'll all
Still say their 1,000 words.
They earned them, when they
Caught you with the flash,
In-between dreamings.
I don't need to hear from her.
I know what she'll say.
A scathing remark about my advice,
A bite-back.
"Lay off the smokes. The Greyness may not claim us,
Flagstaff, but sure as hell, has it made me paler."
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
Dear Dave Hodges,
My husband is an Army Reservist in Michigan. He is home this weekend after training at Camp Grayling. He know that I am writing to you but please don’t use our names. His unit is training in the processing of Americans into detention camps.He was told by his CO that they would be processing American actors posing as American citizens. Part of their training was the removal and disposal of dead bodies. My husband said he will not participate when the time comes to do so. Please keep getting the word out Dave you are making a difference.
Hello Dave!
…There has been quite a bit over the past couple months as would be expected with Jade Helm. I’ve seen many convoys of various types on I-40 and I-17 as well. Camp Navajo at Belmont between Flagstaff and Williams has had a lot of extra activity also. I don’t know if anyone else north of you has mentioned any of this but it is getting quite frequent around here. Thank The Lord Jesus I’m washed in His blood!
God Bless!
Mr. Hodges,
I was traveling on Interstate 81 in Virginia this past weekend and spotted this military convoy at a rest stop right before exit 264 on 81. After getting back on the highway, I also encountered another convoy on the road… Use these pictures as you see fit.
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
This is the magi's pen.
If child Newton sat beside me,
might he think the older knowing mine?
I smile and share a second thought.
I accept reality allows my thoughts out
let fall with luck would let
be the letting, let us make believe.
The joy of a ride in a Tesla, akin
to the thrill of an Oldsmobile 442,
on the completed cloverleaf exchange
southwest of Flagstaff, in fall of '69,
a test drive, for a couple o'vets,
in school on the Gee, I didn't know bill.
I-Forty had not replaced Route 66,
but the interchange was accessible,
by curious joy riders, for about one day.
Remember such days.
Savor surviving and think of thanking
times process for arranging the occasion.
Don't bring up the fact that onces exist.
Being first to do a once is not great glory.
Oct 16, 2023
Oct 16, 2023 at 2:45 PM UTC
A saintly cabdriver
High in the mountains of Arizona
Once told me to try to never be cynical.
Live in the now, you won’t regret it.
His own son
Had given his life to negativity.
I never saw the driver’s face
But I know he had a moustache
And I imagine his face was lined
With many years of the winters of Flagstaff
And the harsh wisdom of all creation.
I tipped him two dollars after
The ride was over.
I probably should have also told him
Thanks for saving my life
Or
Thanks to you
For imparting these golden thoughts
Or
I hope things work out between you and your boy.
But I didn’t.
Instead I got in my car
And pointed the headlights
For New Mexico.
It was a long drive.
That was many months ago
And it has been a crazy ride ever since.
I remember every single woman
That I have “loved.”
I remember all of the friends
Whose shoulders were but precipices for understanding.
I even remember what I had for breakfast this morning
Or what new horror story the news had for me a month ago.
But I will forget those things soon enough.
The cabdriver
Who’s name I never even asked for
High in the San Francisco Mountains
Of Arizona
Spinning his wheels all around a city
Filled with
People that really just want him to drive them somewhere.
He drove me somewhere.
I just don’t know where.
The perfect thing is that
Once he was gone
He was gone.
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 4:53 PM UTC
He’s been on the road
coming home
from
Arizona flagstaff
wearing his
jury rigged knapsack
with plastic
and cloth bags
strapped together
by an orange cord.
Sixty something,
tan skinned,
and missing teeth,
I find him
on the off ramp
as I head out
to work.
Sign says Springfield
but he is trying to
get back to
Chicago.
I almost pass him by,
but I remember
a younger guy,
the good man
I used to be.
He asks me to be
kind again.
I tell him
I’ll drop him
halfway there,
but he offers
a traveler’s perspective
and excellent conversation
so, I take him as far as I am going.
We roll in
just in time
for him to miss
the storm coming,
and part with
a handshake
and goodwill,
I forgot how good
that feels.
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 11:02 AM UTC
Things down past Flagstaff got nasty, no doubt,
more heat coming in than was getting back out.
It was maybe the 20th year of the drought;
valley fever came in, pretty much won that bout.
Gas prices went north, cooling systems went south;
things go **** up, you get down in the mouth.
Finally, unable to take any more
they pointed it north, ended up at our door.
We're already full; not a thing we could do;
fed them a meal, took a woman or two,
told lies about work up in Kalamazoo.
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 8:27 AM UTC
From the cockpit of my silver R8 convertible, I was
“Not The Doctor” on call, I drove at dusk the 89A from Sedona on my way to Flagstaff.
The failing sun brushing against the red rock was so beautiful,
As "Jagged Little Pill" blared and bounced off the canyon walls echoing “Mary Jane”
The diminishing daylight gave way to the cool of the “Perfect” night,
And the stars began their delicate lattice song of arrival,
Yet incomparable to the grandeur of the full moon
That rose in my view elevated along side of me, then "Right Through Me."
Its celestial wonder, its luminous glow, its dimpled smoothness, captivating.
Quickly reminded I was driving, my car veered to the left shoulder,
Alanis declaring "Wake Up", I corrected back on the highway.
My eyes re-fixed on that wondrous stellar promontory.
This lunar object, on which many experts claim mental unrest,
Had me "Head Over Feet" as I continued to stare, then unconsciously drool.
I fancied how it would feel to be on that great orb, then recollected, and was “Forgiven” of
My childhood wish to become an astronaut.
I could see her face laughing as she looked back past her voluptuous *** protruding out the window.
From the back seat of the Range Rover, brunette, woo-hooing her young adulthood to the world.
She was beautiful, liberated, spontaneous, uninhibited, and likely inebriated; I was infatuated.
She looked into my lustful eyes; I had one hand on the wheel and one "Hand in My Pocket"
I ruined my jeans; then chastised myself, “You Oughta Know” better.
No other night since has carried with it a moon so lovely as the one I saw that evening;
Isn't it "Ironic"
-----ChawwzyScript
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 2:17 AM UTC
delicately trace the outline of my body
every night in your dreams
wishing you were next to me
and leave me unraveling
is it for sure?
nothing is exactly
so i back up backbone
and head for the freak show
can you flag me down
somewhere near flagstaff, arizona
call me, say
"i miss you
you've got a home here"
i wish I could run to you but
the waters are murky
and my mind isn't clear
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 3:26 AM UTC
2,000, five hundred feet higher,
it's ten degrees cooler up here;
than the place where I now live
watching the green cacti near.
From where I am, I can't see it,
I'm too far to the north and east;
but the views I do have, are great,
Verde Valley's a high desert feast.
The peaks behind Flagstaff's are lovely,
Eighty-nine A winds her way to Jerome;
and a shelter of pines line my footpath,
as we amble and stride and do roam.
Jax - is my faithful companion,
adorable, trustworthy...true;
a canine that I can call buddy,
he's with me in most things that I do.
The road is a thousand feet lower,
like a concrete snake amid trees;
Wood-Chute mountain's enchanting,
as once more, I return, to just see.
May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 1:17 AM UTC
daisy’s spread out in a vast field
twirling as the wind whips their blossoms
salty lips and caramel hips
dips and tricks
picking up the flowers that fill the ground with
color
laughs in Flagstaff
sidesteps and triceps
gracefully holding sweaty hands
in fields that only flowers inhabit
liberated limbs in little lands
with boundless promises
sway with arms on shoulders
hands on slim waists
spreading fake wings while lying in the yellow
field
smelling the scents, but with no allergies
spinning until floating
two in one without knowing
falling into enchanting spells
flower field remaining sweet
while kissing is faintly heard in the brisk
night air
oh, what a magnificent thing is to be in love
Apr 13, 2022
Apr 13, 2022 at 11:48 AM UTC