July 31, 2009

#134 sandwiches are beautiful

i made mother a mayonnaise sandwich
with peanut butter and pickle
because she wasn't feeling well
she said it looked to good to eat 
that she'd eat it 
after she finished appreciating its innate beauty?


#134 #3 3/8"

from a warm autumn Sunday
i enter
i sit
middle of the kitchen
mother walks round and round
she the moon
my noggin the Earth
scrutinizing my head
clumps of brown
(long since white) 
drift to linoleum

arms folded
my nose tickles 
i blow 
she leans in
i focus 
the hum
electric scalp massage
the drone
bass note of the didgeridoo

finished
she brushes me off
hands a mirror
i nod approval
sweep the fallen
to dustpan
then dump 
to grocery bag
she vaccuums the tiny remnants
and i'm good 
for another few months

later i walk the bag 
to the garden and spread
a deterrant for unwanted ungulates
i rub my head
it feels cold out

#133 travellers

know how 
to make every backpack item count
know how to make a pint last
never turn down free meals or showers
and
maybe most importantly
know how
to make a friend 
in a room full of strangers

July 30, 2009

#132 the man inside

just gave me an F
unhappy
with my effort and performance
knows i can 
do more
do better
be kinder
be stronger
says this is unacceptable
says i am wasting my gifts
is tired of excuses and self-lies
is about to lay down the law

July 29, 2009

#131 last call

listening to her voice
cell phone message
i hang up
order another
stare at my left digitus medicinalis
no mark left anymore
no sign that the band was ever there
when did the last trace leave

i swallow liquid medicine
not enough to be the drunk
just enough to blur the pain
and to stop looking at my finger
trying to forget why i'm drinking

July 28, 2009

#130 inverted oceans

at first
i tried the muskokas
where the pines 
pointed me east
back to ocean
but i was pulled away again
and found fernie
where i feel at home
in mountains
which display 
ancient inverted oceans
everyday

July 27, 2009

#129 after bedtime-snack

tunnels
carniverous amphibians
a reverie's version of childhood home
chutes and adventure and danger
and victory

aunt
ordinary
gone wrong
unhuman

a child's stuffed animal
massacred by keeper of the trust
kindergarten teacher

#128 large family, kitchen table

sharing news
hoarding dessert
laughs
arguments
before departing 
to our own lives
the table is the family
homecooked meals
mud and blood on white 
for the picky
dad at the head
mum to his left
oldest at the foot
i didn't realize then
that i was being shaped
that i was so lucky 

July 26, 2009

#127 each had a yellow sword

two yellow swords
battle of the bowl
two young brothers
swords crossing through
one another's
manhood displayed
the battle 
short
ends 
in two smiles
and one flush
before dinner

July 25, 2009

#126 bless you

in kootenai mountain time
a day is a sneeze in history
an ocean floor thrust upwards
over time
overhead
over all
trilobytes and friends invite discovery
the world, Earth
turning over in her sleep

July 24, 2009

#125 missing out

i'm a musical snob
i like it independent
undiscovered
no top 40
i like their older stuff
their first album was the best
but what do i miss out on

i'm a social snob
only interact with visible characters
dreads
free-spirits
no to name brands

#124 the couple i hope we are

the farmer holds his wife's hand
under the small-town bar table
his eyes happy, relaxed
and she
white-haired, youthful, energetic, free

they split a burger special
when the waitress returns
with two plates
his eyes hint disappointment

after the waitress leaves
with mischievous moustache, he steals a fry from her plate
with hearty laugh, she steals one fry from his
then, under the table, their hands find each other

#123 thank-you, friend

i nurtured
loved 
and encourged

then i grieved 
as i let that part of me die

then
a friend came along
a stranger then
but now a great friend
and saw life in that part of me

#122 against all odds

on a raft flowing down a medium river
i feel tiny
walls on both sides cut off the world
but for a strip of sky straight above
walls of rock
i'm at the foot of enormous cliffs
my neck stretches back
three quarters way up one wall of rock
is a tree
a tree
i see no dirt
the tree grows out a bit at its base
and then up
how does this life exist in that place

July 23, 2009

#121 love

making the bed when you won't be there
a note with the lunch
doing a chore that's not yours
eating the heel of bread because they don't like it
warming their side of the january bed

#120 long live the book

to fall asleep upon
to host a bookmark
to appreciate in stores and libraries
the sound and feel of turning a page
to give
to receive
the smell of new
all this and more

July 22, 2009

#119 windows

pull down menu
Clear History
or
Show All History

what if life was like my Mac
windows into my father's childhood
options to omit life-regrets 
one click

Home
Back
Help
Save 
Edit
Quit

July 21, 2009

#118 midnight

another liquid heart-to-heart
passes my window
loud
mostly decipherable
two male voices
@#$@ her man
#$@! her
drunk guys talk about girls
drunk girls about guys
misunderstandings 
and differences 
and need
and the voices float away

July 20, 2009

#117 my lobster fishing career

4am alarm clock
drunk with tiredness
i somehow roll out

angus is there
coffee and smile on
are my eyes even open

by 5am we're on the water
the sun paints the sky
an easel 
changing every minute

i'm a university student
called as an extra hand
the last day of the season
today cement-weighted traps 
hauled up for the season

the catch is small
both men 
twice my age
work quiet
the weight of the traps is too much for me
after an hour of pretending
poorly
that i'm okay
i flop

are you faggin' out

i'm mad
not because of the rude comment
but because i can't meet their challenge
i need another minute
they send me home 
with a story to tell 
anytime i hear someone call fishermen lazy

#116 the wait of apples

when will we learn

some apples are to be eaten
but we label those that fall without giving us nourishment
a waste

round irregular trees
we humiliate into ordered rectangular orchard
feed them water stolen from river

river knows
apple knows
tree knows

but they are older, wiser

July 19, 2009

#115 delete

sunday morning
stressing over our telus bill
i grab my bike and close the door
two empty cotton bags
balled between fist and handlebar

sunday market, rotary park, 11 am
in time for lemon cupcakes
the sun, i grin
came for the cupcakes too
kids go wild on jolly-jumper rafts
dogs sniff dogs
people pay cash
all as i load up on the vegetables
our sofa-size garden lacks:
chard, peppers, corn-on-the-cob
then a snack
and a warm loaf of bread,
unsliced

the walkabout, smaller than a softball infield
equals fifty minutes of smalltown conversation
how's your summer
oh, hey how're things
we should ride together tomorrow
what're you up to today
et cetera
until
i wander to my waiting townie-bike
unlocked

i balance the bags
precarious
one per handlebar
shades of garden-green overflow
i wobble home
comical version of a strongman farmer's-walk

open the unlocked door
check my e-mail
message from a buddy
suggesting my girlfriend and i
move to the city, calgary
attached is a high-paying job posting
ridiculously high paying

i look to the cotton bags
smile back to the monitor
poke the key


#114 searching for a three-leaf clover

why
when man meets at a mountain
his eyes are drawn to the peak
and his being is tempted to the summit
ignoring the foot

a boy in a field of clover
spends hours searching for a four-leaf
attracted to the rare
but how beautiful the three

two identical wines
side by side
with different price tags
we rate taste according to the tag

the unattainable
the rare
the expensive

can we see 
and appreciate
the beauty
the miracle
in the simple
the ordinary
the mundane

letters
straight lines
a single breath

all amazing
 



July 18, 2009

#113 questions of home

an ocean, a mountain
a battle without arms

my family, my community
my struggle within

home
more than words and numbers on an envelope

can home exist anywhere
can it be multiple places
is home a place or a feeling
are nomads and travelers never at home
or always

is anyone always at home
buddha, dalai lama
or have they transcended home

what of the home with adults yelling
or worse, not talking
if a home is broken, is it still a home
what makes one more homeless,
dirty cardboard box
or painted concrete facade


born on the ocean
living in the mountains
across the miles
within myself
a mountain, an ocean
ebb and flow
rise and erode
ebb and flow
rise and erode

#112 is there?

is there a home for me in your scars
i won't yell or hit
is there a spot for me in there with the tears you fight to keep
i won't break trust
are you willing to accept an umbrella
under the thick rain-cloud that sits above you
everywhere

i don't mean to scare you
i just see the little girl
i understand your anger and your shell
i want to find a home in your scars

#111 supper rush

loud music
changing
hierarchical battle

some sing
some curse
timers and sizzling and shouting
fractions multiplied
portions divided
tempers and flambes flare
then
breaktime
breathe
and back again

#110 campfire audience

empty dock
beside laugh-filled campfire
a still night
but no one's still enough to notice
busy having fun
making friends and living memories
the sun retired two hours back
but enough light still reaches
to make a dusk
i search the lodgepoles
for movement
for sway
none
a quiet act ends
to a thunder of applause
and i watch dusk
change to darkness around me
alone
i listen to the fun

July 15, 2009

#109 bedtime

exhausted
i stumble up stairs
keeping my eyes
from pulling shut
my body
feels like 
i downed a fistful of sleeping pills
but i just 
i had 
a long
hard 
full day

i open bedroom door 
enter
too tired for happiness
i look at the bed
and remember
the sheets
down in the laundry
in the wash-machine

July 14, 2009

#108 i thought you were happy

behind tears are tears
behind smiles are smiles
or sometimes tears tears

we hide sadness anxiety frustration
with smiles
but not laughter with tears 

#107 stuff

stuff fills my life/clothes rarely worn, fill drawers and closets/books, already read, fill tables and shelves/trinkets, useless and unnoticed/own walls and corners\\as i look at all these belongings, all this stuff/i think, there is something to be said for


space




July 13, 2009

#106 old farts, old wives, whippersnappers, and spring chickens

has there ever been a generation 
that didn't worry about its young predecessor

are we the only species that does this

kids will be kids
and
like adults
they'll have moments 
of incredible brilliance and promise
and moments of sheer idiocy and stupidity

and
at some point
they'll worry about their predecessors

#105 after rain

sky 
shades of grey-and-white, dark-and-bright
ground
wet and puddled
air 
clear and quiet

people and the other animals
hiding in stores and shelters

the sky is already brighter
soon blue will conquer the sky again

but 
for now
i enjoy the moment

#104 three-ticket ride

that ferris-wheel stomach
just before the smile
2 o'clock angle

the feeling
it doesn't go away

little things cause it
paperwork, phone calls, outings

anxiety fills my perspective and my lungs
inhaling restricted

for me, the cure is three-part
movement
getting outdoors
and letting go


July 12, 2009

#103 running, trains, and poetry

it's a marathon
not a sprint

to keep a train moving
requires more energy than
get
ting
it
started

to move a ton one inch
is harder than the next ten inches

a poem a day is better than
twenty poems once a month
maybe better than
forty poems once a month

#102 mine-town train

a horn cuts the white noise of the everyday
locals hardly notice
tracks shake
before a garland of cars chug through
going west
a million dollars worth of black
going east
nothing
the black shakes my bed at night
woke me for the first three nights 
and never since

#101 bitter perspective

what can i say of a place and a sound
whose  best redeeming qualities
are 
white squall
mosquito-breeding havens
and #4

the hooters' streets are tired
though imitate life for summer 

yes
there are good clips too
loon's bleat
paddle's gurgling tornado

but i'll not rush to return

July 11, 2009

#100 (yeah, that's right) one thing

i run
10-minute miles
never been called fast
running teaches me things

i'm amazed 
how easily 
one day off
turns into 
one week off

like a freight train
so much more energy
to start
once momentum
is broken


#99 at home in distant mountains

june fifth
mountains 
green but snow-dipped
nestle me
here
as home sneaks around me

July 10, 2009

#98 small town

friday night
8 o'clock
kids dropped off 
two blocks from their friends
as if parents don't exist
or hiding the decade-old family car

they meet
in fields
under bridges
at playgrounds
by quiet streetlight

hours later
chewing chocolate bars
masking smell
chatty with parents 
but trying not to breathe




#97 hot feet and sprinklers

lounging
lazing on a tube down the river
beverages in tow
warm evenings and cold beers
water games and fireworks
racing your melting ice-cream
green everywhere
and trails filled with life
hats and mitts are forgotten
in a box
back of closet
forgotten evidence 
another world 
another life
forced out of mind
blizzards and flurries and snow-cones
a different language

July 9, 2009

#96 when the other far doth roam

she's back
whirlwind of life

items invade, floors and counters disappear
his inner compass spins, as though at a pole

routine
wiped out

calm existence
shattered

she's back
he feels life and smiles

#95 THIS IS A DEAD END

armed with blueprints
made by his hand
and a sack of supplies
and a vision
he turns left

the lot at the end of the cul-de-sac
his
had been for 3 hours now
he reaches in his sack
removes duct tape and a sharpie
marks
BEGINNING
and continues to the road sign 

July 8, 2009

#94 a shining armour

her beautiful panoply 
gets her in trouble
and protects her
in bars after midnight

the girl 
half a wedding-reception
stares at
the half that includes the groom

she will cause mens fists
to hit mens faces
and a few will see beneath her tight sarong
but none beneath her panoply


#93 irish metal music

clank
clank

tink 
tink

then 
a rhytm

1-2 3-and-4
clank-clank clank-tink-clank
1-2 3-and-4
clank-clank clank-tink-clank

warmed up 
now come the tricks
antics
for the audience

lightning gallops
and head-banging rakes

metal
on metal

one instrument
two spoons

#92 revolutionary


poetry
poet tree
poe at three 
po' at three
poet tree
poetry

#91 deep in the woods

thank you
to the people who have turned their backs on us
the people who have left us
for unknown unmarked cabins
deep in the woods
places that we would rather
hang on the wall
than visit

thank you
you give me hope that when we fail
worthwhile will still exist
and we will fail
i am afraid of the day or night
our gluttony and plundering and pillaging
fail
but i hope its soon

July 6, 2009

#90 embracing procrastination

would schoolbags ever get clean without 
procrastinating studying for exams

would this poem get written
if not for the overwhelming sensation 
my novel brings me

and reading
all those great books and words
absorbed and forgotten
all excuses out of daunting to-do lists

dishes
cleaning
phoning friends
getting outdoors

all benefits of procrastination




#89 when you're done reading my poem

when the world puts you down

when your couch lures you to laze
get up

when you're procrastinating on the computer
when you're a boxer on the mat
get up
get up

when you're in bed missing out on your day
when you're sitting there watching injustice
when your tv sucks your brain
get up
get up
get up

do something epic

#88 misleading

she has no clue
what i've done
she smiles
unknowing

secrecy
lies
hidden encounters
deceit

our friends know
but they won't tell
they wouldn't
want
to ruin
 
the birthday surprise

July 5, 2009

#87 don't yawn

i stare 
through the glow from my alarm clock
at sleepless ceiling 
stressed

i try deep-breathing
ovine counting
relaxing
but trying to relax 
is like pushing yarn

i resort to praying
with
and without
expletives

then
the sleep-deprived ceiling
offers a suggestion

i try my hardest to stay awake
to keep my eyes staring
through the neon light

and
i fight sleep
like the 10 year-old me
willing my eyelids 
to stay open with dad's
for the tv
third...  

third period

and just...

#86 time, money, and raspberry jam

mum had a theory
the theory of raspberry jam

every sunday 
she filled a grocery cart 
for a family of eight

her well-tested theory:
jar is empty on thursday
whether a small 
or jumbo