Friday 9 November 2018

Zero Gravity

Why do you tie yourself up in knots?
So you can come undone again?
And why not? What is it for?
If not to make you different. 
If not to notice one more chain.
One more fetter to restrain your freedom.
One more reason to be bound to the earth.
Because otherwise you might just float away.

Thursday 8 November 2018



Days of impeccability have come,
like the storm of snow
pushing white blindness.
Days of love,
times of courage,
echoes of comets,
language of stars,
dreams of planets dissolved.

Extravagance cannot be measured
when purpose is born.
And this body, this body,
no longer necessary,
remains for you.
To leave it
I must leave you.
That, I won't do.

Wednesday 31 October 2018

Think About It

If you are an eternal being,
death is never real.
You could believe you arrived
because you chose.

If you are an eternal being,
this life is designed,
and all your friends and foes
are your helpers.

If you are an eternal being,
all you need to do
is awaken to yourself,
Arise sleeper.

Awakenings they're called,
when a soul sees
itself for the first time,
first sight, first love.

If you are an eternal being,
a hidden gemstone
resides within, waiting,
 be found,  be seen.

Tuesday 30 October 2018

Waking

Wending through paths of time,
wondering all the while,
watching decades come and 
wither, drying corn in 
weathered fields, crisp, fragile,
wasted harvests, but still,
winters drought loves this crop.
Without it, no forage
would provide a yielding,
without it death would gain.
Waking to this wondering,
wondering at this show,
we see coincidence,
waking mercy, mercy
walking, doe and fawn,
when I smile and I say,
"what do I know, nothing."

Monday 29 October 2018

The Commute

My favourite drive home starts in the bottom west end of the city.
You drive along Lakeshore until you hit Brown's Line which
is easy to miss because it snakes off like a crooked sapling of
an apple tree trunk.

And you follow that north to 427, an old highway with roads
adding and leading off, a twisting of vines and if you're not careful
you'll end up on Burnamthorpe or the 401 east but I take the 401 west
and swerve onto 427 again.

Up past Finch where I would pick up my grandson,
up past Woodbine Raceway where both of his parents
exercised Thoroughbreds in all kinds of weather
and keep to the right for the 407.

A toll road they built a decade ago that transforms
2 hours of traffic into a half hour glide.
East to the York Durham Line, then north
past the Pickering Airport that never was built,
lands now grown wild.
Just cash croppers and coyotes, bears and deer,
vultures and turkeys, so close to the city,
It helps my head clear.

Turn east on the 9th towards Claremont, my old town,
where I stop to buy beer at the variety store,
and then turn north on Brock Road,
past the horse farm that the crazy rich guy built
for his young wife, past the guy who sells eggs, 
chickens walking all over his yard.
Past the deer farm, until you hit Coppins Corners.

Then east on Durham 21, through the forests that
host the trails for hikers and bikers. 
Until your crest the hill at Durham 23, 
turning north again.

Past Chalk Lake and the spring always busy
with people getting fresh water, past the ski hill, 
past the Gospel Hall, rising with the hills to Highway 47,
to the west is Uxbridge, to the east Port Perry with
it's famous lake of mud and weeds called Scugog.

Keep rising north into the snow belt where I once
rolled by truck, hitting black ice. I still count myself
lucky to be here.
 Down the slopes and up the hills,
past the donkey farm and the gravel pits in the distance,
on the home stretch.

The flashing light signals my last turn onto River St.
and the heading east towards Sunderland,
farmers fields and silos, grain elevators and corn,
and often the smell of manure freshly spread.
I drive into the town at a slow cruise,
look for neighbors, a nod and a wave,
and to my house with the driveway full,
horse trailer and truck, I deek into my spot
with my little white car, another commute ends.



Sunday 28 October 2018

Adieu

And I had to agree   at the end of the day
that the world was different   between you and I;
that we would part company   each to go our own way.

With bitterness yielding,   I envisioned a path,
a door to the future,    with no encumbrance 
of you or our past,   free at last.

I denied my own truth   for so many years,
thinking of duty,   afraid you would leave,
hiding my longings,   swallowing tears.

But now the door opens   thanks to your drive
to have a new life,   to feel you're alive.
"I'm just too young    to be stuck in this rut."

So I'll call you a saviour   instead of a slut.
You're free,   now go.
Be well my friend,  may we never meet again.

  

Saturday 27 October 2018

Eyes

The eyes of the horse are dark like the lake at night.
While the eyes of the loon are rubies.
I have seen the eyes of owls twice, blue, grey and wide,
able to blink independently, the face is an orifice of time.
The eyes of my cat are different, one blue, one green,
and they run all the time, leaving her face a mucky mess.
The eyes of my wife are blue like mine.
The eyes of my grandson are brown like his skin.
They both live with me and help me to see.

Friday 26 October 2018

Inside Out

FUCK THE SONNET
my feelings are searing
the walls of my brain
if he knew what you did
that you planned it all
without him
every year he was there
every year invited
he would be heartbroken
that you excluded him
he's been excluded
all his life
you know I love him
more than myself
and even with normal
i need patience
to keep my feet on the floor
but this has broken me
my feelings for you
which were once Gardenias blooming
are now bulrushes
in the fall
spent and blowing
away on the wind

Thursday 25 October 2018

Dreamers

Dreamers


are watching 
galaxies being born
where the stars collapse upon themselves,
by punching through an antimatter barrier.
Dreamers see all that is released into the void,
the unknown possibilities of
matter becoming fact,
factual.

You do this 
unconsciously without
interruption, you take what you know,
and on it bestow it’s own immortality.
It lives on forever gathering to itself 
similar intentions, given their impetus
from entities, cheerleaders cheering,
throwing their weight on you. You
make it through. 

You become,
a constellite dancing,
a meteoric glancing off lights,
themselves moving at speeds that
make time turn backwards.
But you heed that not, you’re gathering mass,
you forget you’ve deceased because
as your speed increased you
were reborn.

Wednesday 24 October 2018

Openings

I once opened the earth with an antique plow,
three tines that were meant to be horse drawn
but I was using a gasoline powered tractor
manufactured by Massey in 1954.
It had two close spaced tires at the front
to stay out of the furrows while
you broke up the earth.

And I worshiped the dirt in those days,
with it's rich dark smells and I disc'd and I
harrowed until the mud became a soft bed
and I mulched in manure and compost,
planted geraniums, tomatoes, onions, carrots,
peppers and sunflowers with tall heads, like
watchers and keepers and at the far end
we put in the herbs, basil and parsley.

We made our own sauce, and India relish,
working late in the night when the crops
were ready, with children running around, until
they were sleeping on couches and beds,
mattresses laid down. They were not mine.
We did not have children, we never opened
a womb. But all those kids made me think
of the magic, of how things are brought into being.

That was long ago. Now I open beer cans
and sit with my friends. The other day
old Gordie said, "One thing I regret of
all of my years is not having kids."
"Aye Gordie," I answered. "Aye."

Tuesday 23 October 2018

Whisperer

Overweight, balding, crooked nose from hockey,
a bump on my left temple, close spaced hips, wide back,
strong like a ape with a tight skinny voice,
books, books, books piled everywhere, Mann,
Plato, Gass, the Tao Te Ching, Kafka, Rilke,
and a gift with the horses, giving back their minds. 
To do the same for people because we have all lost our minds,
 but, it's much harder.

Impossible dream
for me to restore the lost
immortality 

Monday 22 October 2018

Betrayal

Too easy to
Betray
Misunderstand you
Misunderstand we
Different priorities 
Needs reconciling
Countries warring
F bombs casting
Fires burning
Ramparts fallen
Smoking ashes
Nothing left
Except
Deeds requiring explanations
Explanations requiring deeds
Left nothing
Except 
Ashes smoking
Fallen ramparts
Burning fires
Casting F bombs
Warring countries
Reconciling needs
Priorities differ
We understanding
You understanding
To easy too

Betray

Sunday 21 October 2018

Poem for Nothing

I've learned so much but
still I know nothing
and I want to know less,
I just want to keep diminishing
because to become
to become
to become
the unbecoming
is to notice what
you really do love
and then sacrifice
is not that at all.
It's a gift laid
at an altar.


Song of Songs

The groom woos the bride
through the veil of flesh.
To get her attention
takes the strategy of
a cat stalking a mouse,
but with a different
intention of course.
The wish is for union.

Two into one is a mystery,
like a mythological riddle
is meant to be solved;
to understand this calling,
to heed this call,
will liberate the dove
that has been caged
for far too long.

Saturday 20 October 2018

Time

A COON IN THE TRASH
DOGS BARKING ALL NIGHT
WHISPERLESS SHADOWS
LOST IN A FOREST
AS DARK FILTERS IN
WAITING
FOR THE SUN
FOR THE PHONE TO RING
FOR THE CHILD TO RETURN
FOR THE LOVER TO RETURN
LONG HOURS TURNING INTO NOTHING
IN A JAIL CELL
IN A BROKEN DOWN CAR
ON A LONG DESERTED HIGHWAY
IN A BROKEN DOWN LIFE
THE DIAGNOSIS BREATHING
THE WORDS OF A DOCTOR
OVER AND OVER
INSOMANIA
THREE IN THE MORNING
LOOKING OUT WINDOWS 
A COON IN THE TRASH
DOGS BARKING ALL NIGHT
THE FIRST DAYLIGHT
THE FIRST HUMAN BEING
WALKING TO A CAR
MAKES YOU CRY

Friday 19 October 2018

Under the Bridge (for Paul)

I watch the fire.
what do I want
like a burning desire
what do I want
the coals glow red
what do I want
so does my head
what do I want
hold it's own strange flame
what do I want
feeding on shame
what do I want
of deeds not undone
what do I want
a night with a gun
what do I want
do I crave peace
what do I want
to get off of the street
what do I want
but that never works
what do I want
I get tired of those jerks
what do I want
the morals and straights
what do I want
I'll bust out of those gates
what do I want
sex, money, excitement
the same old indictment
all over again

Thursday 18 October 2018

Sunderland


The wind from the west was unseasonably warm, like
the breath of spring tickling the buds of the tall waving trees.
And I decided that happiness was a trap set, a snare
for my neck, a claw for my ankle, every time stealing
my freedom, every time dragging me down, leaving me
crippled just a little bit more, a little more pain to
carry around, a hinder, a limp, a migraine headache.

                            …………………

There's a muskrat who lives under the bank under
the bridge over the river that runs through the swamp,
with his rat skin tail like a segmented worm, with his
buck teeth and oily fur that he grooms with his tongue.
I imagine he's alone. I don't see any other rats swimming,
no other arrowhead wakes of ripple and gurgle. It's only
him and I'm certain he likes it that way. A marsh bound
recluse ignoring the geese and the ducks, ignoring the
blackbirds and herons, ignoring the sounds and the sights.
I imagine him saying, I'm only a rat. Leave me alone.

So why should an ogre attempt at beauty. Let him sit
on the gravel pit hill, limestone sliding down at his feet.
Let his beard grow long along with his hair. Let his clothes
get haggard and torn. Let him be smelly and go barefoot,
let him beg food with a walk into town. Let him talk
nonsense and scare small children. Let him draw insults
and stones. Let his nails grow out into curly cued fangs and
let his ears grow deaf so he can't hear anyone, he can only
hear ghosts and those are his own.

He wants no kindness, he wants no booze He'll take some bread
and some cheese. Don't worry, soon he'll be gone, back to his
silence, back to the place where he belongs. And he'll sit and know
how not to speak; he'll sit and he'll know how not to remember.
And one day he just won't be there. One day he just will be gone.

Wednesday 17 October 2018

Madness

Is crawling like a bruise across your face.
Your eyes sparkle, but not like diamonds.
The jittery voice that sounds like control
is a facade nailed on to keep hurricanes out.
I would like to help you but a drowner
pulls it's saviour down with them.
Staying near you will contaminate me.
I'll just smile and nod at your stories.
Watching the egg boil in it's own heat,
the turbulent frothing edges of lips,
hoping the flame will cool but it won't
because he's always there at the edge
of our vision, inserting his lies unsettling
the small oasis I've tried to create.


Tuesday 16 October 2018

Catch Me Now

I never believed I would survive the things I’ve been through,
But catch me now I’m falling,
I never believed I could survive the things I’ve been through.

To love too much is to have your heart torn out.
But you learn to endure it, take it in stride
when you’ve been through the things I’ve been through.

Always imagining things that don’t happen,
but other things do, taking their place.
and you learn to endure it, take it in stride.

It seems there’s a plan to break down the code
of beliefs you were trained in, your bedrock of truth.
Because when different things happen, it changes your life.

It’s in taking the chances that breaks the hard ground.
I never believed I would ever survive.
It’s in taking the chances that breaks the hard ground.

I never believed I could ever survive, let alone prosper. 

Monday 15 October 2018

Umbrella

If umbrella could be a verb,
I would umbrella you.
I would protect you from the sun,
Cover you in the rain
I would be protection
and keep out all the pain. 

But that would not be worthy
of such a soul as yours,
who loves to get all muddy,
who loves to get outdoors.
You love the wind, love the rain,
the summer sun is your best friend.

I would be abandoned 
in the closet by the door.
left at  Value Village or
some other seconds store,
You would have no use for me,

this useless metaphor 

Sunday 14 October 2018

The Gift

It's too easy to define ourselves by what we are not:
I'm not a racist                         not a chauvinist
not a womanizer                      or a wife beater
not a pedophile                        nor a hater of children
not a rapist                              or a stalker
                             not a gossip
                        not a slanderer
                       not a drunk
                        not a druggy
not schizophrenic or manic or taking pills for depression
It's so easy to define what we're not.

                But to define ourselves by what we are:
                                  husband
                                  father
                                 salesman
                                 writer
                                  poet
                                equestrian
                         lover of children
                         friend of women
                   collector of books and art

            It seems too easy, it's not who I am,
                         
             I'm just an entity who lives in a body,
               who wakes up every day
               and moves through this life,
             experiencing this world through his senses
              I am fortunate, blessed to be this person,
             but I don't take the credit; I did not create me.

                                         I am a gift to myself,

              from a strong mother and father,
              who passed on their values they gained with their sweat,
              blood, and tears, even though that's cliche it's truthful.
              A gift from my wife who never gave up, who searched for
               the gold in the dross. A gift of my ancestors with unique DNA,
             Irish, French, English, Ojibwa, they knew how to fight,
                they knew how to love and what they did they did fiercely.
               They made me healthy and strong. They made me want to live long
                  and to improve this world.

                  This knowledge
                   a challenge to
                  make a gift of my life,
                   to spend it in the service of others.
                 I've done that before and every time that I do.
                 I discover more of who                             I am,
                  and who                                                    I can be.

Saturday 13 October 2018

Eye's Wide Opened


seeing my life
seeing your life
life inverted
life perspective
perspective turned inward
perspective trimmed down
down to my feelings
down to us two
two friends tossed in
two friends in the fray
fray creates stories
fray creates conflict
conflict divides
conflict unites
unites with new strength
unites with new vision
vision revisited
vision renewed
renewed without scapegoats
renewed within truth
truth about me
truth about you
you were my friend
you are my friend
friend without conditions 
friend without force
force is diminished
force is ground down
down is my pride
down is my grievance
grievance of wounding
grievance is delusion
delusion of grandeur
delusion of debt
debt to a promise
debt never paid
paid with a promise
paid overlaid
overlaid with new calling
overlaid with myself
myself a new creation
myself a love song
song to my spirit
song to my soul
soul independent
soul strong in myself
independent
myself

Friday 12 October 2018

Chemical Relations

We were toxic and 
I tried to believe until

the acid burned through

Thursday 11 October 2018

Sweat

The crack in the clouds
creates a fissure of light,
but you can’t split the night,
you can’t cut darkness in two.

That’s why I’m loving the fall,
the air becomes still,
the marshes will fill,
and the sky will lower with cloud.

The summer was sweltering hot,
with no consolation,
unless you consider
the need for clothing was light.

Short skirts and low waistbands,
Rare bellies and busts,
no wind gusts to savour at all.
Just a glimmer of sweat in the night. 

The key is surrender,
and that’s what we did,
that’s what we’ll do. 
We’ll strip off our clothing and sweat until two,

we’ll strip and we’ll sweat until two.

Wednesday 10 October 2018

On the Day of the Storm

The wind tore the sky into green.
The water frothed, but the air clean.

We lost ourselves, ran from our cars.
I stopped to awe, the moon and the stars,

and a black ridge of cloud menacing,
Satan's foothold, all things effacing.

But then I saw you, storm shorn, clothing torn,
like no one I've seen in action before.

Not Raquel Welch in some hot thrilling movie,
with nicely fashioned rips hiding her tootie.

No, you were the real thing, mud, cut, bloody and bruised,
and I ran fast to join you, no thought I could lose.

And the storm dissolved there, our foci wide opened.
A god playing hop scotch with us, his love tokens.



Tuesday 9 October 2018

Love is

Love is the opal,
You will need to mine for,
And then guard it’s precious fire. 

Love is the lion,
You will need to tame,
And then watch lest it turn fierce. 

Love is the question,
You always ask, 
But remain fearful of the answer.

Love is the flame
That causes smoke
And only burns clean when it’s hot.

Love is the moan
Soothing the night, 
Evoking the moon’s raw beauty

Love is the morning
Branded with sweat
With bodies alone having meaning

Love is aloneness
Banished away
Companionship never is wanting

Love is the story
We all want to hear
Love is the conquest of all that we fear
Love is the thing that went missing 



Monday 8 October 2018

Prague

Love Prague
love art
art breathes
art moves
moves me
moves chairs
chairs tossed
chairs burned
burned towns
burned bodies
bodies naked
bodies pure
pure idolatry
pure worship
worship truth
worship sacrifice
sacrifice truth
sacrifice beauty
beauty bestowed
beauty created
created destinies
created dreams
dreams of you
dreams of us
us on the Charles bridge
us in St. Cyril's
St. Cyril's crypt
St. Cyril's memories
memories in stone
memories in bullets
bullets in museums
bullets in time
time to move on
time to remember
remember you
remember us
us on a bridge
us holding hands
hands on the rail
hands on the golem
golem created
golem magic
magic made me
magic made you
you made us
you made two
two into one
two ends in one
one 
one




Sunday 7 October 2018

Dear Rob

I am afraid I might not be of much use anymore,
having given up on trying to fix my life.
And I don't think yours needs repair,
in spite of the great unhappiness.
You see, I've found a new way and
I feel a new joy. I've given in,
surrendered to things as they are.
And all the pressure people put on me,
seems now to be comical, even funny.
I've given up on money. After all the worry,
all the sweat, I'm still in debt but not very
bad and I live a good life, I have a good wife.
And even if I didn't I don't think it would matter.
Things take care of themselves, you know
what I mean. I heard a friend say that
the universe supports everything. It knows
what it's doing. It's kinda like God has a
plan for each life. And there's something there,
like the air. You can't see it but it keeps you alive.


Cheers,

your brother.

Saturday 6 October 2018

Conquered

Bruce Springsteen wrote,
"now I'm trapped,"
but he was conquered.

Bruce Springsteen wrote,
"the poets down here don't say nothing at all,
they just stand by and let it all be,"
but they were conquered.

And Rilke wrote,
"don't take my devils away
because my angels may flee too."

And you my dear may conquer me,
steal my soul,
eat my flesh,
take my will and make it one with yours,
steal my eyes,
breathe my breath,
digest the thoughts I think.

I will sleep with my head on your belly,
with your breast on the nape of my neck,
the warmth of your womb
will sink me to sleep.
The softness of skin
will cause me to dream in your dreams.

Friday 5 October 2018

Denial

Sometimes,
I want you so bad
It feels like I'm sweating
inside my teeth, like I'm an
hourglass emptying grain by grain.

I'm
losing myself
in muscle's constrict
that restrict the flow of
blood to my brain and I leave
myself who's quickly going insane.

I wander
as a spirit about
our town, leaving my
body with you. I don't know
what he'll do but I don't really care
because I'm not there, I'm wandering
moon and star, listening to cars on the smooth
pavement, observing young men, loud and obnoxious,
the firetrucks pass, red lights igniting the night, sirens screaming
someone's plight and I return to one sleeping as dead, rejoining the thread
of life.

Thursday 4 October 2018

The Bruin

Moving slowly, always alone, solitary being.
Five foot tall and three hundred pounds,
he can lift a wheel off a truck,
he can wrestle a bull.
Some say he once delivered a child
in a snow storm, when a car left the road.

He saunters along, one foot a bit twisted.
Listening is not his strong suit,
you might have to yell.
He can't see very well,
but he can smell you coming a long way off.
He's always sniffing the air.

He sits in the bar with a long cool beer.
He smiles at children but doesn't say much.
He stays in his basement
for most of the winter,
smoking cigars,
drinking fine scotch,
listening to Tom Waits
on his old record player.

Wednesday 3 October 2018

Meekness

Does what I think
when I think about you
become what you think 
when you think about me?

Strange reality.

Or is it inverse proportion;
what I feel changes you
but in the opposite fashion;
a nut with a screw?

Explains how the meek
inherit the earth.

It's now how it is.
It's just how it feels
when I want you so bad
it offends and repeals.

There is no attraction,
just a string of bad actions,
oh my god, here we go
again.

Tuesday 2 October 2018

The Rapture



Time for a discovery,
something unabridged,
a longing called out.
To stand within voices,
constraint banished
to the darkest lands
so that all that flows forth,
a gush like blood,
(who has seen it?)
an artery severed,
a skull crushed 
or a child born.
You can't sanctify this,
it is as foreign as war,
as death by a mercenary,
as the stray bullet 
that took the child.
It all requires worship,
a protestation before 
such, such, such,
opening a soul
as dramatically as a body
so that new life is born.
Is that what you wanted?
Yes.

Monday 1 October 2018

Or

Or

How, oh how
many times have I said
surrender.

It's a big word 
and it takes and big mouth
cocky and brave
to say it.

Until the next round,
life serves up the punch,
ribs, eyes, and ears,
until something splits,
oozing clear liquid,
blood and then what,
resolve?

To go back in,
taking your chances,
going down for the count,
just throw in the towel,
walk away in the night,
admitting you're proud,

or surrender
with grace.

Friday 28 September 2018

Vodka Smiles



Vodka smiles
thick like the muzzle of a mule,
upside down like a happy parrot,
wallowing like a Hippo in the mud.

Vodka smiles,
even though everybody winces
at the high pitched moans produced
when bones reach out and speak.

Vodka smiles
and she don't give a shit
cause the world can kiss her ass
while she just bites her lip.