Walking

The wind high tailed,
clouds, streamers
of garbage caught
in branches along
the ravine.
Snow lipped
rocks, granite
exposed, unearthed,
excavations, fifty
million tons, who
can fathom the
sky, blue cold
altitudes, thin
air lifting jets
towards Jupiter
where the air
is so thin,
it does not
exist. Gravity,
gratitude holding
my feet to
the earth while
my thoughts explore
what cannot
possibly be,
touching with mind
only concepts
and mystery.

At the 28th and the 9th

I once lived in Claremont,
At the 28 th and the 9th.
On 35 acres expropriated
By a Liberal majority
That could not defeat the grass roots
But for us it was paradise
a pond we swam
a garden we tended
a Great Dane and a Terrier,
Harley and Pom Pom

And we took in a homeless lady
Who later died of Lymphoma
She slept opposite a sheet
On a mattress
In front of the fire in winter
And with the French doors wide
In summer sweet nights
And a young girl adopted
after 5 homes
And a schizophrenic man
Who had a squirrel in his throat
And a niece like a daughter
Whose family were odd
And considered her the reason.

I had seen owls as
Small as a palm
And beavers that damned
Everything they could
And coyotes with night screams
That put notes on your skin
Geese and ducks
partridge and pheasant
and vultures that flew
like planes circling

I invited MacMain
from prison
And he fit right in
Caught brook trout
Crawling on his belly
With a line on a stick
And a worm on a hook
And he pulled up a dozen
muscled actions
of defiance.

The house was full
people dropping in
they had no where
To go
nowhere to be Loved
nowhere to be unlonely
 in those days
We were richly blessed.

Infinity

Infinity is just behind you
in all it's terrifying aspects;
just behind your right shoulder.
I heard it last night,
a scream from another dimension
tearing down the empty street;
another me from another day
getting my attention again.
Stay the course! Stay the course,
my friend.

Ode to Oscar Wilde

Ode to Oscar Wilde

Christmas again
Family pain 
Seasonal funk

Think to get drunk
Not this year
Won't shed a tear
No not for you
Or the fatherless Jew
Born in a manger
Class rearranger
Who showed us the scars
He called
the wounds of love
But no,
that was Oscar's giant who saw the dove,
the child in the tree.
Oh yes, that's what
Wounded me,
The child in the tree.

2000

Do you remember
the end of the millennium?
Sitting on a rocky hill
with snow edges watching
the mat of lights floating out
to the edge of the world,
and waiting for Toronto
who it seemed also
waited for darkness
to return.
Hoping that maybe
our innocence
would come with it.

Mad Man

I'm rationing food like a Mormon

at home in my basement room.

Tin pails of flour, beans and rice

and water in plastic blue barrels.

I've got a good woodstove, airtight,

with skids piled up in the drive.

And cords and cords of hardwood

stacked neatly behind the barn,

against the day the power fails

and there's no time for getaways.

Ten propane tanks locked in the shed

and two new barbeques,

and kerosene lamps for every

room in the house.

But I am not sharing with you.

The many will perish,

the survivors are few

and I am just doing 

what I must do.

Human

I must die

for he is gone.

He left some time ago,

but I never mourned,

but now I must

                                                                     dissolve

                                                                                       into

                                                                                                 particles

of

                                   light

                                                          with                     no

             cohesion

                                                                                left.

My loss is so great an

                                               ABSENCE.

I never held what I had

when I could

                         have

                                         held

                                                            it.

Now it's gone.

Pitiful human condition,

so blissfully ignorant

until the time comes

for you

                     to realize

                                               your loss.

Oh God.

Woe is me.

He was the best friend

I ever had.

But I guess I should thank him

for making me human

cause I don't think

I was.