Author: Aaron

My name is Aaron. My dad told me he put the double A's out there so I wouldn't get a "B" on my report card. Conjure up a Redd Foxx voice: "Boy! What's this B-shit?! I didn't name you Aaron to get no B's! A-A ron!" I was born in 1974. I'm glad I can't remember the 70's. The clothing, the architecture, the music, I think everything about the 70's sucks. The 80's and 90's, that's where it was at. I've been called a "survivor", but everyone here is a survivor until we're not. Life is about winning some battles, but in the end, we all lose the war. It's not all battle and war either, but you get my point. I was born in Detroit and I've been drifting north and west, but I still haven't escaped the confines of the "rusty mitten". Michigan has it's plusses and minuses, but ultimately, I haven't escaped its gravity. I'm relatively new to the Word Press thing, but I've enjoyed collecting poems, thoughts and experiences in one place and I thank you for stopping by. Sincerely, A-A ron.

Stars and Harbors

Forgiveness is the line that keeps us moored
When weathers roars in from the east.
Kindness is a cove that harbors us
When wind and waves are a beast.

Hope is belief that tomorrow
Brings calm seas and a storm free day.
Love is a gentle breeze blowing
Sending us once more on our way.


Treasury Department

Tender your tender tender to me.
Your love alone will set me free.
We’ve been hardened by time and age,
Losses mounting from the wars we wage.

Tender your sweet tender
Surrender to me.
Be my crumbling wall,
By an ancient sea.

I don’t know what we have left to spend.
I do know how I want it to end.

Soy Campeon

A brief smattering of words
To indicate that today was.
Was more than red exclamation points.
Tiresome emails. Running over the same ground.
Writing on the adult chalkboard a trillion times.

Today could be the middle of the week
In the middle of a middling life
Of a man stuck in the middle.

Or today could be appreciated for what it is:
A gift.
Thank you oxygen that fills my lungs.
Thank you sunrise.
Thank you sweet and tender love that I have known.
I’m alive and well, and the champion of my soul.

Weather: Too Cold For Forgiveness

We start with the weather on the call.
But I don’t care about weather at all.
Because the wind will blow and the sun will set,
And when it does, I still won’t forget
How you let me take the fall.

Forgiveness is a barrier, forty feet high.
You’re told to scale it, so I try.
Check the emotions and the pride,
But it won’t get you to the other side.
No foot holds here. No cracks to pry.

Time is just a narrow band
Of uneven footing, and shifting sand.
The truth we seek is solid ground.
But what I hear is just the sound
Of wind lashing a tiny strand.



The drive is to find the birth river.
With an important package to deliver.
Molecules of home and preparation for availing
Of rushing waters that are much less saline.

Fighting currents, ocean monsters and net,
Other obstacles face them yet:
The impoundment, the angler, the hungry bear.
Thousands of miles, yet they arrive there.

To a familiar, straight-run, gravel bed.
This is where instinct has led.
Roe and milt and lives are spent.
Salmon, do you die content?

Michigan Shiner

When the summer’s heat can’t get worse,
I’ll be at the beach, fully immersed.
Swimming free between lake’s surface and bottom.
Troubles? What troubles? I don’t got em’.

But during the winter’s long-winded curse,
You’ll find me with a book, fully immersed.
A curious mind, with much to learn.
Biding my time, til’ spring takes its turn.