Sunday, March 28, 2010

last leg

twenty four hours
last leg journey

carry me.
carry me.

deliver naked souls
among crowds
our secret.

give away
two loves
gasps the throng,
part the way.

kiss and hold
background disappears
to quiet
eyes on eyes
and arms surround
that tender kiss
begins us together.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

mabou coal mines harbour

(peter to L.) a letter

My dearest L.,

It is 6:35 now in the am. I have just finished my third reading of 'at the brook'. I am staggered and I have poured out, without the rock in the middle of my brook. It rushes through me already a part of great tributaries that is my love for you. Your writing has been so very important to me L. I have laid in the sweet grass reading you for some time. I have seen you naked and have not felt shame but more wonder of how am I to have this gift of your beauty before me. Your words, naked and raw of pain and beauty have brought me to my knees at other times too. But, but now with our upcoming reuniting I feel so humble in front of you, almost unworthy.

The love you have given me dear L., how may I explain this. Your spirit given to me so freely precious like a tiny fragile powder blue egg with a life inside, a real life, an important life as an ancient dinosaur egg hatching a million years after conception. I feel I am the dinosaur waking to a world of you in forests, in towns, big cities, of riding trains and swells of great oceans. You show me a great new life in a new age. Your body, I worship at altar like the last star ever seen by man himself. That star which is you will light the dark nights of alone and still be there at daybreak and through the day. I remember seeing a star in the middle of the day as a child. Have you seen one? I stood and watched it, it pale and strong at the same time, but very present. This is you.

We are to be together. I have not been, until now. You have sat on the egg for ninety three years. It is time we live and watch stars in the summer sun, bathe in brooks, care for one an other. And love, we will love fierce and gentle our bodies so connected to touch and taste through our trusting minds. A first, unconditional,


Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Sunday, March 21, 2010

sunday fun

Laughs and
That crow
Who takes hard bread
puddle soak
to eat Blues music
Sunday afternoon.

Sparrows wafting
Poop pipe
Week be done
Here there
Any ole
Wearever pots
Full kitchen sinks
Candy Gummies
Tummy full
Cranberry juice
Yogurt, ha!, plain
Ticket one way
Sounds surround
Greet again meet
Hard kisses hold
Tight fast
To home.

I had worked at a friend's house a couple of weeks ago refinishing his kitchen cabinets. He and his wife have two adopted daughters, sisters from Korea. Beautiful precocious girls full of life but shy with a stranger in the house. I had to move things from countertop to work and as I did a little 'sticky' note fell to the floor. I picked it up and read:


Two days later I asked the girls who had written it. The grade three student retrieved the scrap of paper from the counter and she proudly said that it was her. I asked her about it, in which she replied, "I was just wondering about stuff." I said it was a beautiful poem and she handed it to me saying I could have it.

I will buy a little frame for it.

Circle back

Talk back





To one

To one

Splash thots.

intellectual grounds
the coffee morning
lights the way
back machine
gears up for
day dreams
clear essence
of moments self

I felt a drop before it hit the earth, pain before the match struck dry kindling, before the felled tree - grew.
A seedling - am I - waiting for a drop.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

into the first day of spring.
i will be home soon.
I read today,
This morning.
I read and bled.
Bled out, heels tied up
Swinging ready
For the carver knife.

A phrase people know,
 Who have been there,
“once, always”
Ringing in my head.
Images of dirty floor mattresses
Tattoo veins over fucked veins still in use.
Death, yes real death in a corner hotel room
Broken window storm night cold
as care absent, reined high.

Everyday you think this, get through
A little easier until years past when confronted
Through someone’s bleeding
You are right back there
"once, always".

I say the obvious cliché,
Sorry, but
True enough.
It does get better with
Belief in self
Worth the time invested
And again.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

we are to spring anew
against angst
without the sheltered snow
and closed door of
dark day comfort.

bare arms
we come out
feel the chill
of a changing season
timid we move
slow at first
the sun
licks our face.

we move into spring
of changing same
at first.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

language languish

Mee thought,
 Fixt gears uv
Counsel uv Free Flite Attendees,
Hath bin achievd merit, yet this loss
Thus farr recover'd much mor
Beautifl ousted vaild [il]
Full license
languish Language.
we have shed our flesh
and time
push splash

and fuck time
created together
to new forms
of changed beings
without walls.

gone the traditions imposed
our bodies and souls
and be

one heart
coming, yes
that coming
and the other

i love you

without flesh
we stand together
we claim each other
drink from one an other,

i love you.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

As gentle ebb the flow
Rises climactic
We, the waves and sand
Solid crash of pounding beach and
Bodies encompass.
You rise crescendo
Rise again
Rise up and out our flow
Blend release the great bodies
of oceans time unaccounted.
Fingers gentle to furious
Cock and Cunt
Torrent currant
Pale yellow crashes endless in
Blue sky, black night.

Storms end,
Ahhhhh, as
Train whistles
Eleven o'clock
Passing through towns
or going to,
time insignificant

We here, hear the whistle distant
Ready to jump boxcar ride,
Steal away
All ways
To edge oceans gentle ebb and flow
We grains of sand
Billions fuse with
Rise again
The storm
We are.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

the rock had fallen massive
planted there at waters edge
sunk into sand half
the waves of calm and storm
changed its form
but time did not change
the wisdom in its heart.

year after year the
elements could not
take the wisdom,
instead gave it

erin's rock.
I wanna’ give it up
In this life of mine
I wanna’ buy my old truck back
The one lost to that bank
Of fallen down garage towns
And head light nights of
Yellow double line passing.

Cause I’m really stuck
I don’t like what I’m doin’
I’ll be the wheel man,
In this Mercury
On Vine.
I turn  the radio down
Trying to remember our talk
On the phone.
I’ll drive this car fast as I can
And crazy as I used to be
Getting home to you.
Tryin’ to get back home.
after always hello's
before never goodbye's
goodbye's never before
hello's always after

the shape 
of your 

lamp lamp

Saturday, March 13, 2010

She went back to the old house again today. I see her drive by my own run down place like clock work every Sunday at six am. Lora Leigh is seventy now, the house nearly a hundred. Her father and my father built that house and I remember as a kid those men hauling large spruce from the woods two years before construction, using everything from those trees. They even used those mammoth stumps for knee-wall supports on the second floor. Working through a whole winter hand cutting and air drying boards stacked in make-shift shelters those men worked, just the two of them.

Our families were close, woke together, worked the fields together, and shared in Saturday evening card games. That’s what you do out here with miles between neighbors, where a visit from someone can last a few days. And all us kids grew up together, going to school, fishing down at the river during long summer days, setting rabbit snares in the winter. I liked Lora Leigh, always have and always will I guess. She ended up marrying my best friend Dan Angus White. A real good man, Dan Angus and a fine carpenter too, just like his father was. They loved each other very much and over the years my love for Lora Leigh turned to a lonely happiness for I knew they were happy.

I remember just a few years ago I was in town buying some supplies at the Co-op and there they were. She had taken ill for a spell, very sick and she couldn’t walk so good. Here Dan Angus was taking her arm and helping her with the stairs. I saw this from behind and I was moved to tears. Here she was so slight and frail and in pain going with her man for the month's shopping, and him a bear of a man so soft and patient gentle, her arm through his. They was real good people.

I stayed a bachelor for not finding anyone I felt half as with Lora Leigh. One day a year ago last spring she pulled up to my house throwing dust and rock everywhere. I went to the front door to see her running toward the house. She was screaming and crying . I couldn’t make a word out of her. What happened was Dan Angus was building a new house down in Middle River for a young couple who just moved there. He took a fall from the roof that took his life.

I went to their house every day after the funeral for some time. I did work around the barn and helped with the chores. We spoke at the kitchen table until it was time for me to go. She would always give me a hug when she saw me to the door. She has moved to town now finding the house too big and empty without Dan Angus. She still keeps the old house though, can't seem to give it up.

We are good friends. She will stop in here after she pulls some weeds or sits in the chair by the window of their old home looking toward the barn where her husband would spend his Sunday morning's grooming the horses.