Posted by Aaron Springer on July 21, 2010 under General | 
Leather Year
By Aaron Springer
A stopwatch would be needed, not just a calendar
To view the space between our first kiss and this moment
Time is both long and short between then and now
And any point along the strap is a good one for me
Yes, it has not been without difficulty
No life is lived in a vacuum
But, like tanning leather
Sometimes the scrapes add character and flavor
Your gift for me has seven silver beads
One for each day of the week filled with glittering life
Between us
Days that I have cherished and kept close
Mine for you was a bound journal
Within, your precious thoughts will be kept
Not only of me, but of life itself
Because we are braided together
Posted by Aaron Springer on April 23, 2010 under General |
Sometimes,
I told her
You have to drive the highways
with the windows down
moving at seventy miles per hour
Feel the air, smell the road
I felt like a hypocrite this morning
Driving the highways
Window rolled up against the rain
I cried, feeling my age
So, I rolled the windows down
And smelled the rain
Posted by Aaron Springer on December 1, 2009 under General |
It is a wide, open plain
With bits of life and pieces of soul scattered
Like rocks in the sand of the desert
The smell of the dry heat
Stings my nose
But warms my heart
It makes me breathe, slow, and deep
As one moves, glides across the face of the deep
All things are possible, an infinity of dots and dashes
From scratches to clay, from black ink to bits of light
The signal never fades
It grows, it moves, it changes
But it is human, at its core
It is us, all of us
Spread in defiance of the black deep
Light in the infinite darkness
Growing steadily
For even the darkest night is not complete
When one light shines
All voices screaming their nonsense
But truth exists in the mess
A car, lonely, in the jam
It carries the hope of the world
Seeds leaking from the doors
Sometimes growing, sometimes lost
Crossing the world
A digital Johnny
Apple trees in its wake
Knowledge is neither good nor evil
Only what is done with the knowledge
Blinders detract from the whole
As truth is subtle and sublime
It can be disguised as coal
Among apparent diamonds it can be lost
But, which can keep one warm on a winter’s night?
The lines point the way
Will you lift your hammer to strike the blow?
Form from hot iron the mind of the world?
Shed the barriers of the skin, of the bone, of the flag
Join with the rest of us, in blood
Not spilled, but boiling with discovery
Onward, upward, outward
Posted by Aaron Springer on August 10, 2009 under General |
A Sense of Place
San Jose, California, 1977
A scratchy beard
The smell of the ocean
Coffee and submarines
New London, Connecticut, 1979
Orange walls and glass brick
A thirsty bird and orange juice
Climbing up, and a toy truck
South Bend, Indiana, 1981
Cigarette smoke and yelling
Strong rose scent and cold wind
Grey wood and the weight of time
Windsor Village, Indianapolis, 1985
Schools and friends
Bikes, mud, and trees
The green house with the hill
Irvington, Indianapolis, 1993
Broken bike, bruised body
First taste of Seattle coffee and lips
Movies at the Irving
South Side, Indianapolis, 1996
Bus rides and first pointless jobs
Rattrap house and Circle Centre
Train roaring overhead a Union Station bathroom
Chicago, Illinois, 1997
Bus station and playing cards
Pizza and waiting all night
The morning coming at last
Seattle, Washington, 1998
Long nights in the shelter
Long days at the library
A ring returned for no good reason
Indianapolis, Indiana, 1999
Breadsticks and incense
Fatherhood, diapers, green paint
The smell of a campfire and vodka
East Side, Indianapolis, 2003
Four week old stew
Betrayal after betrayal
Nights alone, letting my ex-wife go
Crawfordsville, Indiana, 2004
A broken door
Spilling coffee
Beef, not pork
Brownsburg, Indiana, 2006
A bed, but only to look at
My girlfriend’s ex in her niece’s bed
The sound of a toy piano playing itself
Indianapolis, Indiana, 2007
The smell of coffee
Lox and bagels
Love like titanium this time
Meridian Street, Indianapolis, Present
The cool stillness of a summer night
Home office, dark and comforting
My wife, my love, sleeping in our bedroom
Posted by Aaron Springer on May 27, 2009 under General, N485 |
The other day, I was given a door
An odd thing to be given, to be sure
It was a way, a path
One side here, the other there
My compatriots returned the door
I wonder if they understand
The door they returned was a physical thing
But the door we were given was not
The door sits near me
Some would say mockingly
I would say invitingly
The door can be so much
But it may just be a way point
On a much longer journey
The door was permanently open
As a mind should be
The door was a simple idea
An old idea
A useful idea
Someday, I hope that my ideas
are simple, and old, and useful
I do not care if my name is remembered
As long as my art, be it what it may
moved a hand, a mind, a heart
