Thursday, July 29, 2010

Medicine cabinet

we spend time in abandoned homes looking for life.
giving second lives in words or images somehow
is important, interpreting what might have been
and the how it is that these houses are now vacant.
i have been back to this house now a couple of times.
this last time as the time before i stood with the 'debris'
quiet and listened to the wind move the torn curtains, coming up the stairs,
and through the fallen foundation.
there are still no answers
and even more questions.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Friday, July 23, 2010

let me give you this slice of pineapple yellow
mixed with the sunset fabulous of blue and red
and we will sit together on the front porch
after a day

i thought this as you pulled into the driveway

Thursday, July 22, 2010

The light

Two darks and the moon


a dark place sheds light by design
as it was supposed to happen.
events exposed from the past
pondered with fear as the day goes on
uneventful. and when darkness is enlightened
only then will the sun cast detailed shadows
deeper into the soul of acceptance.

the violation
the volunteered denial
of a threatened body and mind.
sunken electrodes deep deep in
the wound of the brain where light
sometimes resides
along side no resolve.

yet sing
so sing
on a breeze of light through curtains
of a windows point of view
into the shadows and
rejoice together
the pain we share.

Saturday, July 17, 2010


He was lost to bird songs drowning out the morning traffic as her face came into
view. How lovely she looked all sleepy groggy, her hair had fallen from the loose braid. The braid was new for her hair hadn’t reached a length before. She was very pleased. They sat together close and both took on the sounds of birds around them, lost in the moment. It was only when the sun broke through the clouds and hit the cedars bright yellow that he looked across the table and found he was alone. But he was happy knowing she was sound asleep because she was still there with him. In an hour or so she would pull away for the day and he wouldn’t see her until he came home later that night after his shift. A day where they couldn't write or be creative and this saddened him.

There was a time, a short time when they first met when she was truly herself and he was no where to be seen. She soared in art and writing, felt so free with herself and him. And in her freedom and her exploring she brought him to the surface. She drew him out of the years of doubt and discontent. She let him see beauty and love. Then she brought him to her home and they lived there. He tied a loose braid around the doorknob so when he left separate, when she had already left for the day he could touch her hair just one more time.

He was startled by the alarm clock ring . The bath water roared, the day began.

And they will work and find the time to be themselves, no no, really who they are without the construct of a formatted day before them even for just a few moments. They will sing like birds drowning out traffic.

On the Tote road

Friday, July 16, 2010

On the wire

two preening crows

shed the sudden downpour

from their blackness

caws shed light on disgust

which draws attention

to a single gull's delight

as perched just

one line higher

the triangle


        black                  black

against a fast moving cloud


Poe and Plath

a delightful horror

not at midnight

but at dawn.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

she resided in town but lived on the back roads

she wanted a man who knew
when the moose were on the move
one who chased life with every breath
who stopped in the middle of a forest and cried
for no reason other then its sheer beauty
for she was a women  of the woods
who saw the majestic pine as limbs
connected to her soul
rivers flowing through her red
with the blood of breath

she resided in town
but lived on the back roads
her words forming in the sharp turns
life had awarded her
seeing things people by-passed
as something special
life giving and taking
as each moment
excited her
demanded her attention
she so sought after

each moment
was a discovery
a new thought
of an ever changing
terrain on the
back roads

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Black and white


feel my calves. they are strong, new and old.

and this was after, when they came downstairs.
after they loved, again different then ever before. how he loved her with his mouth
with a different meaning. how there was potential trouble around them. he thought when he was there in the moist crevice, how he wanted to restore any damage that was done. he willed all his love into her with his mouth and at the same time looking up into her closed eyes feeling such joy in the giving. like her calves she was strong in her climax. when he came, he thought of babies, as she did, in speaking later. she is so strong within her potential trouble, carrying and giving.

would you like some?
just one!

she handed him the twizzlers.
you can't trust the foundation of things handed down, the significance of a salmon dinner undercooked, let alone your grief. and he thought on these things then
and is now, perhaps.

just one! 
you must put two in your mouth!

he laughed
for he had never met anyone like her, not one.
just one,

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Let me square the yards

back at the fence
tethered he waves
she waves leaving
their harbour
the blue schooner sleek
navigates the buoys
and corners into traffic

he watches
until out of sight
'fair wind and following seas'

"Let me square the yards, while we may, old man,
and make a fair wind of it homeward." -  Moby Dick

bring her home safe
filled with the riches that is her
he will be her lighthouse
as she will be his light
that casts upon the rocks
in the fog
of the day

Monday, July 5, 2010

parameters of limitation
keep our hearts behind the bars of jail
where chains of power keep blinder eyes
on one course without change.

she yells, "This is not acceptable! This will not do!"
he refuses to take that second look
at how hard people try to please him
this king of ice cream
this queen of toast
but they do look
when no one is watching.

burnt toast and ice cream too hard
people dying in the streets
the same level of
exasperation in the minds of power.
insecurities that fight to stay on top
in control of chaos
these small minds

this fight
this fight

to be accepted on our own terms
what we perceive ourselves to be
the smoke and mirror
illusions made of
concrete and steel.

why do we do this?
can we not lay in a field naked
with skin falling from flesh
and just love the rain
and hold the hands around us
walk into death honestly?

When flowers super nova