Missed Connections

Lady on the bus with the red outfit and large red hat: There is an exploit to the universe and you are the key.

Woman and man doing the crossword together on the park bench: Tumble with the inevitable chaos and drink in the pale liquor of the once forgotten world. Smudge your fingers with delight and lick the ink like a lollipop.

Man running through Balboa Park without a shirt: You are a cliche of your own devices, your muscles reflective and questioning in the afterthought of this run-on sentence.

Little girl with golden brown hair, holding your mother's hand in the grocery store with such a delicateness: Breathe deeply and open your eyes to the myriad of choices before you.

Couple making out next to a boarded up Blockbuster's: Kiss the nape of eachother's next until goose bumps appear.

Reader of this poem: Keep close to the ones you love; cherish the random encounters in your life because one day you won't wake up.


This work by Scott Stewart is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

Autism

He stands, hand in his mouth, both slightly cocked to the side.
He stands, breathing.
He stands, teeth jutting out, unrestrained.
He stands and flicks his hand over the television.
He stands above me, face to my face, blinking deeply.
He stands still for a picture, eyes empty.
He stands and loves the world with as much joy as humanly possible.

He sits, playing with his marbles.
He sits and watches his DVDs for the thousandth time.
He sits bow-legged on the ground, flipping through cards made for kindergarteners. He will be 20 in eight days.
He sits on a carousel, watching everything blur.
He sits and meditates in his sanctuary.
He sits and eats because he is told to do so.
He sits and loves the world with as much joy as humanly possible.


This work by Scott Stewart is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

Written in the Back Pages of The Catcher in the Rye

It's snowing and raining in San Diego.
The tree blossoms are falling and the wind is blowing the fountain into my face.
The weather reminds me of home, in the heart of the Willamette Valley.
How the rain would come down in floods.
How green and lush everything was and is and will be.
How the earth stood still if only for a moment so you could gaze upon it and wonder.
How peaceful everything is,
the trees gently nodding in the wind,
the smell of pine needles on the ground.

The energy of this city resonates with me now.
There is so much to explore and do.
How the sun always seems to be out.
How close the beach is.
How the concrete sculpts a path in the earth.
How little is forgotten and little is remembered.
This is my home now.


This work by Scott Stewart is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

Hannah, John, Joseph

Hannah

The small hairs stand up on the back of Hannah's neck while she waits for the bus. It is cold in Portland tonight.

John

John rolls up the sleaves of his plaid, long-sleave shirt. Now he is truly indie.

Joseph

Joseph pulls the covers over his head. His alarm is set to country.

Michelle

Michelle quietly cries in her car. LIfe is rough sometimes.

Melissa

Melissa checks her watch as she walks quickly. She is late to a doctor's appointment.

Justin

The street reverberates through Justin's shoes when he drives. It feels like a thousand caterpillars crawling on his feet.

George

George holds his girlfriend's hand in the movie theater. Life is good sometimes.


This work by Scott Stewart is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

One Drink, Two Drink

One drink, two drink.
Red drink, dark drink.

I can't drink anymore.
The beer makes me full.
Please finish my beer
for me tonight.

Conversation and laughter,
a myriad of tangents.
The alcohol opens pores.
It cleanses the palate.

Tall drink, short drink.
Old drink, new drink.

It's loud here but not too loud,
I can still understand you.
I believe my eyesight is going,
I can't read the beer menu.

I frequent the bathroom.
The music here reminds me
of the oldies station I listened to
growing up in a small town.

"From there to here,
from here to there,
funny things
are everywhere."

I might puke if I have another.



This work by Scott Stewart is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

If I build you a wall, will you climb it?

If I make you some porridge, will you eat it?
If I build you a wall, will you climb it?

There is a rumbling in my soul.
It's beginning to sound
like the hunger pains of revolution.

I feel like scatting along to Dizzy Gillespie,
the ecstatic nonsense, cheeks blown,
head bowed to the experimental masters.

I cross out cliches like a priest crosses his heart:
frequently and with a pain for the oppressed.

Little by little, you build the bridge
between what is expected and what is frenetic energy,
your childhood dreams and lusts and doubts.

Shakespeare put it best when he described greatness:
"Some people are born and some people die."
Shakespeare didn't really say that.

Before you begin your journey to sleep,
remember one thing, if you can:
I love you and always will.


This work by Scott Stewart is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

The Universe, in All Its Infinity

A train passes and I think of infinity,
that stretch of forever and some.
It is my mind that goes on.
The excess of heartbreak.

A man stops my writing to ask for tobacco.
I think of the leaves, to be carrying leaves,
and I tell him no, I don't smoke.
He replies, "Oh, okay then. Very well."

Where was I? Oh yeah. The universe,
in all its infinity and magnitude,
has undoubtably pinpointed you,
will grab you by the shoulders and rough you up.

"You think you can escape unnoticed," it says.
"But I --" you reply. "I was just standing here."
"That's what you'd like to think."
"I was thinking that," you sputter.

The universe has it out for you.
It knows your cousin, deeply.
It will stop at nothing to stop at nothing.
Hungerily, the universe will devour you.

Then you will live in the belly of the universe.
Forever and ever, amen.



This work by Scott Stewart is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.