Ending of the Thirties. (The Last Year)

my thirty-ninth born day

the last year

end of my thirties

an october saturday

and I was born on a saturday,

in the morning

outside

it was typical norsk autumn

cold, gray overcast,

heavy fog and rain

...

next year -

the four-zero.

Just Another One of Those Poems.

autumn october sunday

it was a rainy morning

the air outside was chilly

in the afternoon

the sun tried to show,

fighting to shine

from behind

the clouded overcast

with patches of crisp

clean blue sky

the ipod played on shuffle

I stayed sober

drinking only water

eating cheese filled

green olives and peppers

sitting at the vintage writing desk

writing thoughts

the last year of my thirties

losing another job

with the balcony door open

that crisp cool autumn

october air

I stood

in the balcony doorway

looking out

over the quiet street

of lökkeveien

and the wooden houses

of Son - a small seaside village

[untitled]

indian summer friday

late september

a warm day

with clear blue sky

the swedish countryside

small towns of

Töreboda, Mariestad,

and Tidan

me and my cousin

high on christiana tea

ancient world,

centuries old

viking stones

with runic carvings

driving the two lane

country highway of the 202

[untitled]

a mid-august saturday

skåne, southern sweden

drunk on

beer, cava, and whiskey

a four and a half kilometer hike

through the woods

along over grown trails and

narrow dirt roads

out to small country roads,

dirt and paved

walking by old farm houses and barns,

wheat fields and pastures

stopping briefly to pet cows and horses

the sky was clouded gray, overcast

with slight drizzles of rain

- not long lasting

the wind blew strong

a chilly late afternoon

on the way to

an old world school house

for a dinner with family and friends

[untitled]

a summer wednesday night, late

in june

the sun still shined

just barely fading

drinking white wine

eating wasa crisp bread

with butter and cheese,

seasoned with herb salt

and red beet salad and

green olives

writing thoughts

[untitled]

a spring sunday - may

sunny but with chilled winds

kind of a cold day

driving around alone, aimlessly

the small norwegian towns of

son, moss, and vestby

scouting for street skate spots

yet no skating being done

just driving to nowhere

a sad lonely day

[untitled]

why-oh

why-oh

why-oh

did I ever

leave Ohio