Old Men

There's a chimney in the attic
made of brick
just sitting there.
And cast iron grilles in
the upper floor
laid in concrete.
And sometimes I can still
smell the coal oil.
Field stone foundations
and a bat on the ceiling
sometimes.
The whole house slopes
with the land tilting
that slopes to the creek
and the windows have
waves in the old glass.

Older men than I have
sat outside
and watched a full moon
like I do tonight
and thought about something
wonderful.

The Olympics

An Olympic poem.

(I just had to.)

Hey fat cats in the IOC,
You've been busted 
enough to see
that crooks always prosper,
they're totally trusted.
Please come here and
our economy's busted.
Memories shorten with
cause to cheer.
I know, shut up
and pass me a beer.
Patriot poison with
every sip. Listen buddy,
I'll fatten your lip.
Treason to say it,
But really, cmon,
they matter so little.
We've all become pawns.
And still no one protests,
still they all watch.
Putin and laws that
we'd fight to stop
if it happened at home.
No, I'll go it alone.
I want nothing from you.
And I'll have you know,
I've kept my nose
out of your show,
CBC sucks, CTV blows.
Fat f#@$%ing executives,
riding good will.
I only wish you'd
swallow my pill.
And dissolve like ENO
into the boil
of your own spoil.
Money for grubs.

Listen

I am finding that the less I say the
better now and it is not because of
regrets of past comments, conversations
or drunken confessionals at the bar of
intimacy lost and found, give and take
for heaven's sake, if I keep anything
it will be those laid bare if you dare
moments of discovery being friends.

Listen. I don't believe myself at all.
My words are syllables bouncing off walls.
And even listening to you I hear
gongs and cymbals, trumpets and flutes, music
in tempos, metered and chaotic, rise
and fall of emotions that awaken
mirrors in me to reflect the same back
into the room of lights that spark and fire.

But listen again. I still have a blast.
But I am watching now, not listening.
I am seeing through, through to you and I,
and I can see you too are seeing through
to me and we are losing touch with this room
and the things herein, in the big spin in
the vast cloud. We lose our self importance.
So when you see me laughing, sitting on
my own, staring off in wonder, you know.

Because

Because gods are hidden

so well

They don't know themselves 

Because poets are transparent and

everything passes through them

Leaving an essence 

making them 

Kaleidoscopic beings

Because even a garbage truck

with a flashing yellow arrow 

makes music.

Because the Trinidadian Love God

brought fresh warm bagels

Cream cheese and chives

to the office this morning

Because Marsden's music

has set my soul smiling

All over again

Because I saw the sun rise

behind scarlet clouds

and then saw the stars

and the moon's faint circle 

with silvered edge

Because after all you've been through

You are still laughing

Because I love to hear you laugh

Red Dove

I saw a red Dove
that nests in a spruce
that spreads low boughs
over my garden.
And you would say
(as I did)
that it's a Cardinal
with visor shade eyes.
But a Cardinal calls in
a song unmistakable,
long hard notes that
sonic for miles.
When the bird I saw
leaves his shady recline,
he squeaks like a
child squeeze toy
with each beat
of his wings.

But I'm not surprised.
My yard holds magic.
You enter a trance
when you pass by the house
and enter the green
of thirty foot cedars
at the back that dance.
It takes a moment to accept
that the birch has eyes
that open and close
and watch you enter,
then follow you closely
until you leave.

I saw the red Dove
descend in an arc,
a graceful loop like
it had swung off a swing.
And it waddled head bobbing
toward a small boy,
the eternal boy
who always knows why.

I and You and We

If you want to know who I am.
If you really want to know,
how the self is betrayed by crafted appearance;
how the actions are only a ruse.
It is I who observe the passionate play
of the you and the I and the we.
And I am as passive as you could imagine.
You add the context and plot.
You play the roles and you ride the waves
of emotions of fear or elation;
of glands of rejoicing and glands of grief
and I am just he who watches.

Let us sit by the bar of hard drinks.
Until the time comes to go home.
But even then I'll stay for a while
and watch and watch and watch,
until I forget why I was here.
Until I am in the marrow of bones.
Until I am in the thick of the blood.
Until I remember it's time to wake up,
it's time to wake up and go home.