SEEKING ORDER

by Jim Gustafson

the dead are closer sometimes than others.
Now very near all around. Pushing
the thoughts away is not possible now.

It seems we need to keep score,
for reasons I do not understand
Yesterday, I worked my ass off

moving paving stones, lining them up
trying to get them straight and level.
I wanted them to look like I knew

something I do not really know.
I wanted to bring order
to the chaos all around me.

Today, too, will be the same.
I will seek order, make lists,
check things off, as if, it makes

a difference.  I know better, yet pretend.
The alternatives are limited. They float
in the air. I am ducking their swats.

I cover my face to hide my nose
from its odor, which is invisible too.
These days will go on

These days will become nameless
The sabbath shall melt away
my prayers now only words of fear.

Jim Gustafson is the author of three books of poetry: Friar Fred’s Diary (Big Table 2018), Unassisted Living (Big Table 2017), Driving Home (Aldrich Press 2013). His poems have appeared in Rattle, Poetry Quarterly, Tishman Review, The New Guard, Prick of the Spindle, and other journals. Jim and his wife Connie live in Fort Myers, Florida where he reads, writes, pulls weeds, and lines up paving stones.

FROZEN TIME

by Jim Gustafson




ICE is the right name
for those whose cold hands snatch
children from their mother,

who deny the suffocating
air, who eat their lunch
in front of the starving.

Don’t speak of laws.
Immorality is not justified
by obedience.

This is not the first time
the wicked have ruled.
Greed driven and cruel,

we return always
to where we have been before.
Nothing moves us forward.

We must face the truth
about ourselves. Listen,
you will hear it spoken

in the constant cries
of the children gathering
at the borders.

Jim Gustafson holds an M. Div. from Garrett Theological Seminary at Northwestern University in his hometown of Evanston, Illinois and an MFA from the University of Tampa. He is the author of Take Fun Seriously (Limitless Press, 2008), Driving Home (Aldrich Press, 2013), Unassisted Living (Big Table Publishing, 2017), and soon-to-be-released Friar Fred’s Diary (Big Table Publishing, 2018). He teaches at Florida Gulf Coast University. Jim and his wife Connie live in Fort Myers, Florida where he reads, writes, and pulls weeds.

AFTER ORLANDO

by Jim Gustafson

Khartoon! by KhalidAlbaih #Orlando Shooter is A Muslim #Trump #ISIS

Is it too soon to comment?
This morning I read 20 killed, now 49.
I feel no different. I have grown numb
to numbers. One or 49, too many,
and always the guns. I prayed
let the shooters name be Smith or Jones,
thinking that might slow the swelling
hate that now will surely come.
This world is no different than the world
of The Book, the one we share.
How dare anyone make a fool a norm,
and the misguided an example.
But they will come now shouting,
“I told you so.” They will use the spent shell
casings to build their case.
How strange I was to think it could be
other than what it is.

Jim Gustafson holds a M. Div. from Garrett Theological Seminary in his home town of Evanston, Illinois and an MFA from the University of Tampa. He is the author of two previous books, a chapbook Driving Home, (Aldrich Press, 2013), and a collection of essays Take Fun Seriously (Limitless Press, 2008). His collection Drains and Other Depressions will be available from Big Table Publishing in early 2017.

ON THE DEATH OF GARY SHANDLING

by Jim Gustafson

                         
   With thanks to Mikhail Iossel.

One by one, Mikhail says,
they are leaving through the door
permanently left ajar.
The party goes on without them.
Conversations and feigned laughter
roll into the hall. Ice cubes toll
the glasses. I will have one more.

They are not old.  Some younger
than I have left. The funny ones
see jokes that I just walk by.
They have left their drinks
on the table. Small napkins soak
the sweat. Carrying laughter,
they vanish down the stairs,
through the doors, out
onto the dark lamp avenue.

Others will follow. The songs
will replay. People will ask
did we hear that a while ago,
or is a while ago now?
The music is never forgotten.

Along the damp streets, heel taps
echo against the brownstones.
The funny ones hear and wonder
if they are alone. They stop and listen
then go on, thinking, have you heard
the one about the guy who was alone
and heard footsteps?

Jim Gustafson holds a Master of Divinity from Garrett Theological Seminary at Northwestern University and an MFA from the University of Tampa. His chapbook, Driving Home, was published by Aldrich Press in 2013. He teaches at Florida Gulf Coast University and Florida Southwestern State College. His work has most recently appeared in Prick of the Spindle and The Tishman Review. Jim lives in Fort Myers, Florida where he reads, writes, and pulls weeds.

COULD BE MORE TRAMPLED BY THE FEET

by Jim Gustafson

Schools and subways remain closed in Belgium today, with the nation’s threat level at the highest possible. —NY Times, Nov. 23, 2015; Reuters photo via BBC.

Could more be trampled by the feet
of beasts who walk the garden?
Could there be other nights that mourn
the passing of the graves?
It is not new dusk that wraps the world
It is the same rolled paper of the past,
pulled and torn and rolled tight again.
The pendulum digs a rut in time,
from open hand to fist. Duck the swing,
wait for knuckles to grow tired of bruises,
then you may grip, shake, and exchange
names. Until that time, let the unknown
push you deep within the cave
where only shadows of yourself dance.


Jim Gustafson teaches at Florida Gulf Coast University and Florida Southwestern State College. His first book of poems Driving Home was published by Aldrich Press in 2013. He live in Fort Myers, Florida, where he reads, writes and pulls weeds.

I CELEBRATE MYSELF

by Jim Gustafson

CALAIS, Maine — A local man was killed instantly Saturday when he set off a fireworks mortar tube on his head, despite efforts his friends made to stop him, state police said Sunday. —Bangor Daily News July 5, 2015. Editor's note: The file photograph is NOT that of the victim in Maine, but of someone else deserving at least a Darwin Award Honorable Mention.

with apologies to Walt Whitman

I will place a rocket on my head, in a few moments I’ll be dead.
To celebrate myself, I’ll place a rocket on my head. I’ll strike a
match, light its fuse and let the sizzle climb my face. The rocket
will explode my brain and l spread my wisdom around the place.
People will scream as every atom which once belonged to me
will now belong to them. They will drip from their bottles, stick
in their hair. They will be sick because I took the dare. And when
they return to work, the holiday past, the smoke of my own breath
shall whisper.


Jim Gustafson’s most recent book, Driving Home, was published by Aldrich Press in 2013 and is a 2013 Pushcart Prize Nominee. He holds an MFA from University of Tampa and a M. Div., from Garrett Theological Seminary. He teaches at Florida Gulf Coast University and Florida Southwestern State College.  His work has most recently appeared in Prick of the Spindle, Foliate Oak, Poetry Quarterly. He lives in Fort Myers, Florida, where he reads, writes, and pulls weeds.

DROUGHT RELIEF

by Jim Gustafson

I have sent California
an 8oz, thin plastic recyclable
bottle filled with water.
The label calls it “Purified.”
I imagine it poured
upon a terracotta potted plant,
the mistress saving the last sip
to savor for herself, while waiting
for the bud to unwrap its face
and seek rain.


Jim Gustafson’s most recent book, Driving Home, was published by Aldrich Press in 2013 and is a 2013 Pushcart Prize Nominee. He holds an MFA from University of Tampa and a M. Div., from Garrett Theological Seminary. He teaches at Florida Gulf Coast University and Florida Southwestern State College.  His work has most recently appeared in Prick of the Spindle, Foliate Oak, Poetry Quarterly. He lives in Fort Myers, Florida, where he reads, writes, and pulls weeds.

IT MIGHT RAIN

by Jim Gustafson

Reat Underwood, 14; his grandfather; and another innocent bystander were shot and killed when an anti-Semitic gunman opened fire in the parking lot of a Jewish Community Center in Kansas City on the eve of Passover. --Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America

"My wife has always been concerned about some loonies out there 

doing this type of stuff. You hear these things and it's really surreal. . . . 

We'll be back. You can't leave in fear."
--Jeff Nessel who had just dropped his 10-year-old son off 

at the Jewish Community Center in Kansas City

Even on the clearest day
when the sky is dressed-up
in its best self
It might rain

Even after the storm
when the water gutters
down to mix the earth in mud
It might rain

Even in the night
when the airliners strobe
unclouded in the sky
it might rain

Even beyond the door
when breath comes
and goes home with ease
it might rain


Jim Gustafson’s most recent book, Driving Home, was published by Aldrich Press in 2013 and is a 2013 Pushcart Prize Nominee. He is an MFA candidate at the University of Tampa, teaches at Edison State  College and  lives in Fort Myers, Florida, where he reads, writes, and pulls weeds.

WHAT YOU BELIEVE INTO

by Jim Gustafson



“What if I believe into this just because it is beautiful?” --Andrei Dmitriyevich Linde upon being told that his theory of the “inflationary universe” (The Big Bang) has been confirmed.  March 17, 2014


What if we believe
into this just because
it is beautiful?

Is that enough, or was
there more for us
to hope for.

Not many can place their life
in just one thing. Perhaps
science is poetry, after all.

One day, will our words
be measured at the earth’s pole?
Will come to the door

and say, what you have
believed into
has been proven true?


Jim Gustafson’s most recent book, Driving Home, was published by Aldrich Press in 2013 and is a 2013 Pushcart Prize Nominee. He is an MFA candidate at the University of Tampa, teaches at Florida Gulf Coast University and lives in Fort Myers, Florida, where he reads, writes, and pulls weeds.

OF FISH AND FISHERMAN

by Jim Gustafson

Image source: Business Insider

Just South of Lovers Key
the whales have hit the beach.
It is said they are pilots,
though one must wonder
about whales that come to land.

Just outside Sparks, Nevada
100,000 fish washed-up on shore.
It is said the lake‘s ran out of oxygen
and the catfish, bass and trout
died in its breathless water.

Just above Rio De Janeiro
lightening has touched Jesus.
It is said, his finger broke,
He will be healed. He will point
once more to the fish in the sea.


Jim Gustafson’s book, Driving Home, was published by Aldrich Press in 2013. A 2013 Pushcart Prize Nominee, Jim is poetry editor for the Tampa Review OnLine, a MFA candidate at the University of Tampa, teaches at Florida Gulf Coast University, and lives in Fort Myers, Florida, where he reads, writes, and pulls weeds.

CLIMATE CHANGE SEEN AS RISK TO FOOD

by Jim Gustafson

Image source: The Verge

Climate change will pose sharp risks to the world’s food supply in coming decades, potentially undermining crop production and driving up prices at a time when the demand for food is expected to soar, scientists have found.  --NY Times, November 1, 2013

There will, or so it seems, come a day
            when warming left-overs for dinner
                         will be only a good memory,

like the one of our visit to grandma and grandpa
            on their farm,  when we played in the straw
                         in the loft of the barn,

ate the white chicken that ran the yard,
            potatoes pulled from patch, cooked  then mashed,
                        and fresh plucked peaches in pie.

Grandma and grandpa have now grown cold
            in the ground next to church down the road.
                        All day their granite stone warms in the sun.

At night it holds the heat, and listens to corn
            cry for drink, beans beg for dew,
                        as restless children in old farm houses

pull blankets from their bodies, wish
            for just a breeze to come cool the night
                        with fresh promise.


Jim Gustafson is an MFA student at the University of Tampa. His most recent book, Driving Home, was published by Aldrich Press in January, 2013. Jim lives in Fort Myers, Florida where he reads, writes, and pulls weeds.

SASHA'S ROCK

by Jim Gustafson



"I found one!" --Sasha Zarezina, 8, searching a snow bank in Deputatskoye, Russia, for fragments of a meteor.  New York Times, February 19, 2013


Sasha searches for pieces of the end of time
fallen from the sky. She looks for evidence,
the real stuff from which bad dreams
come down in strange stones,
just the way snow does in Siberia.

Deposited in banks,
left to draw interested children and those
who wonder out loud about the meaning of things
that come from above.

It came in the cold time, to be found
by a fair February maid. Still warm,
its bed of snow melts,
cools light years of falling flames.

Sasha’s small hand holds up
a trace of outer space,
a trophy from her hunt,
raised in wonder.
She shouts:

I found one! I have it in my hand.
We need not fear, for it is small.

She does not see the lasting tremors
glow in the eyes of those who saw
the ball of fire tumble, nor does she hear
the echo in the ears of those
who only heard its rumble.

Sasha’s rock sits by the hearth
reflecting the flames the fight
the arctic winds that run
fast beneath the stars.

Mother and father Zarezina’s fear
the future meteor.
They know better, now, than to trust
the sky when they
walk the land.


Jim Gustafson graduated from Florida Southern College, received his master’s degree from Garrett Theological Seminary at Northwestern University and is a currently pursuing his MFA at the University of Tampa. His latest book, Driving Home, was just released by Aldrich Press. Jim lives in Fort Myers, Florida, where he reads, writes, and pulls weeds.