Coffee, fresh shirt, plans and rationalizations
see us through another day. So it goes,
each day commences with hope.
It has to. Something has to.
Deadly sins we keep within; bigotry, dishonesty,
infidelity. Silently, we weather a toxic environment.
We live. We learn. How long
until the coffee becomes bitter,
or cold? When will a shirt
become creased, or stained? Which knowledge is lost
and what remains? When do old habits return
as mistakes? Again.
Have we become complacent to lies we are sold,
or those we spit out? And we do.
Rarely do we say what we mean. Each sentence
a vapour trail. The previous, the past,
or the pathetic catches up by three, or by five.
This is how we live, or how we will die.
No aspirations. No sorrow.
Dawn to dusk, twilight then starlight. weary
or resentful, we will rest and repeat tomorrow.
Again. Hope returns. It has to. Faith.

© 2019 j.g. lewis

APRIL IS POETRY MONTH
check back daily for fresh poetry

My desk is much like my life. It’s sufficiently stable, present and purposeful, but damn it gets messy.

Not one who operates comfortably from a place of comfort, I rarely bother spending a lot of time establishing my environment. Yes, I appreciate a well-cushioned chair, but writing has always been more important to me than the place I am writing from. Dining room tables, coffee shops, park benches or libraries will suffice.

I can plop my notes and scribbler on any uneven surface, clear space for my laptop, and go about doing what has to be done. I make do, and then I do something else.

Accordingly, the stacks of papers across the desk become as scattered as my thoughts.

Of course, everything in each pile has value: forms that needs to be filled out, receipts, half a stanza and the first few breaths of what could be a monumental poem, yellowing newspaper clippings, scraps of information, trivia, facts, and all that kind of rubbish that made sense at the time you scribbled it out while picking up milk at the grocery mart, waited in line for coffee at Starbucks, or as I drove to and from here and everywhere.

Each item has a purpose, it all belongs somewhere, but how do I find it when I need it?

I am always attempting organization (on my desk and in my life), I’ve long realized I need a better system (or one at all) where everything I need has a spot. I know, from experience, that when things fall out of place, I begin running into problems

Thing is, I have (too many times) convinced myself I can operate in this state of chaos and confusion. Generally, and it only takes a little bit of shuffling, I can usually find what I’m looking for. I even count on my somewhat detail-oriented mind and memory to guide my way and I’m successful, most of the time. I can, often as not, go back through the stuff layered day by day, and most times, find what I’m looking for.

Or is this an illusion of delusional proportions?

I might be. My thinking is so much like my desk. The information I want, particulars
I need, should be top of mind and not cluttered up with distant memories of foreign sunsets, random lyrics, faces I used to recognize, and the mental to-do lists that did not get done.

It’s much like if you are writing a letter to a certain someone, and you need that particular pencil (the one with the slightly softer dark grey graphite that just happens to glide ever-so-smoothly across that specific stationery), you shouldn’t have to dig through a several drawers, or bags, or boxes, to find it. Nor should you have to search for the damn sharpener.

It should be easy, and it would be easy, if you had put it back where it was supposed to go and if you actually had the space set aside to put it back into.

And. You. Should.

Shouldn’t you?

So, this year — as part of a continuum of never-ending alterations to the way I work (and live) — I am expanding my thinking. I’m finding the spots, or the spaces, where things belong. Everything should have a place: pencils, people, and particulars. I’ll even go out on a limb and say that with a little planning, effort and (dare I say) organization, my problems can be resolved or reduced.

Fully realizing that I needed more space (and not just a bigger desktop), and wholly admitting that I can almost be a hoarder of things both insignificant and inspiring, I purchased a couple of drawer units. The idea is to compartmentalize what I do, and how I live.

The exercise is, and will, take time (you don’t allow things to get this out of hand overnight) but I’ve actually got file folders in file stands, in a file drawer. It is efficient. There’s a drawer for journals, there is a drawer for tape, glue, and a stapler. There is a drawer for nice stationery and note cards. There’s even a drawer for pencils; actually there are two drawers (but we needn’t dwell on that distinct obsessive interest/sickness).

I’ve even got a drawer dedicated to anything else that has no real place to go; oh wait, doesn’t everybody have one of those?

Everything has a place.

Now, there is actually desktop space to lay out what I need, to open a file or read a book. I can even leave my coffee cup in a spot without fear of spilling.

I’m not going to call myself efficient (not yet), but I can say I am more orderly. I’m not perfect. I’m trying.

My desk now allows me room to do what I need to do, and my life may surely benefit from this example. I still carry around too much stuff, and don’t know where to put particulars, and some people. Slowly I’ll find the spaces.

© 2019 j.g. lewis

Old habits die hard, or, rather, they do not die at all.

I glanced up at the Moon last night, late. Actually, it was far more than a glance. I stopped, I stood, and I stared at the ever-changing, familiar sphere as it ushered in a new season.

It was not what I intended to do. I had hoped, or planned (even plotted) to ignore this Moon. A full month ago, truly (in consideration of the precise lunar cycle), I decided I spent too much time watching over, wishing on (even worshiping) this dominant celestial object. I wanted to believe that the Moon has no effect on me, that I, conceivably, was even frittering away this life allowing my mind follow its path, or my heart be swayed by its rhythm.

Always, evermore, a creature of the night, I cannot even fathom how many hours I have written under the power of the Moon. It is, as it is right now, my one consistent muse. I won’t even reckon the number of poems scratched out about this Moon of mine (there, see, I’ve even become possessive of something as common as spit and routinely on display for everybody else to enjoy (we all share the same sky).

I decided I’d been paying attention to the Moon when I should have been in bed or devoting my time to more worthy topics like income tax, the impending global economic impact of Brexit, reducing my carbon footprint, the dramatic healing traits of a Himalayan salt lamp. . . or what have you.

I tried to face facts. The Moon, I convinced myself, was as calculated as it was consistent, as bothersome as boring. I’ve gone about the past month keeping a more regular bedtime. I’ve been eating better, listening to my body more than my imagination, and trying to counter past behaviours that have not served me well.

Yet here I am, on the last night of a weary wicked winter, with clouds as certain as politics, staring skyward at something that both reflects back the light of something else and the feelings of anybody else. How original.

How compelling.

How can you not read something into it? Few symbols have captivated me as much as the Moon, and here we are on the cusp of Spring, wanting to be hopeful or just trying to get by.

Obviously this will be a month of contradictions. It may also be time to rearrange plans, accept familiarity, and not take yourself too seriously.

This is a chance to remember that not all habits are bad.

© 2019 j.g. lewis

“And if the dam breaks open many years to soon
 And if there is no room upon the hill
 And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too
 I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon”

                                                       – Roger Waters

Family-owned Levi Strauss & Co. is preparing for an Initial Public Offering that is intended to increase market share by raising the capital to expand its presence.

The iconic American brand patented the blue jean in 1873. Sales of the market have been declining for years, and Levi’s has also been challenged, within the denim category, by more youthful companies like the Gap.

The Levi’s IPO comes at a time where Gap is adjusting its business model. The company recently announced it was restructuring in North America, and closing some its Gap, Old Navy, or Banana Republic Stores.

I have always liked, and have always worn, Levi’s. It was my brand of choice through high school and beyond. Yes, I did go through a designer jean phase (like everybody else), then ventured over to Gap (especially through my ‘dad jeans’ stage), but I always found my way back to Levi’s.

For me, it was more than familiarity; and especially about long-lasting quality. I’ve got a pair of Levi’s that are a dozen years old, and still have a lot of life left in them. The 505s feel good, and they look good. Blue jeans always look better with age.

I used to like that the jeans, up here in Canada, were made in Canada. The San Francisco-based company had manufacturing facilities in Winnipeg and Montreal up until a few decades ago.

It was also a company with a big corporate heart. Levi’s supported HIV/AIDS programs since the early ‘80s when HIV and AIDS was, essentially, a death sentence. The company was there for its employees and the greater community. The Levis Straus Foundation has pumped, and continues to pump, millions of dollars into support and research.

How can you not say that Levis Strauss & Co. is not a good corporate citizen?

Yet, while the clothing company puts back into the community, globally, it (like other manufacturers of consumer goods) has also retreated from the communities it once offered employment to. Levi’s has increasingly gone offshore or shipped its jobs to Mexico. Now, less than 1 per cent of the company’s products are a ‘Made in U.S.A.” series of 501 and 505 jeans.

All that remains is the all-American image.

“Our jeans have become an American tradition, symbolizing the spirit of the west to people all over the world,” reads the history lesson silk-screened on the inside pocket of my newest jeans. “Progress is sewn into everything we do, from how we make our clothing to how we care for people and the planet.”

There will become even less of an American tradition once the stock has been sold to interest’s outside of the Haas family, descendants of Levi Strauss himself.

Shareholders, being shareholders, always demand higher dividends and greater return on investment. The quality and quantity of American tradition will further be eroded. In all likelihood, production will be moved, eventually, to countries known for low labour costs and inhumane sweat-shop practices as Levis Strauss & Co. continues to move from made-in-America to lost in America.

I am not one for prayer.
I am not sure about hope, several past decisions, or
the trajectory of my path, but
I am fairly confident
we shared something meaningful once.
That may be enough
to pull me through this day,
to help me remember
we can all get through anything
when friendship offers what it does, as it is meant to.
It is greater than a prayer.
It is the basis for hope.

@ 2019 j.g. lewis