#483 control. alt. delete.

so cliche, so powerful

the present, the future, the past

words and actions and reactions

mine and others'

#482 Putting the laptop away

words

mock me

behind the cursor's curtain

call me names

Incompetent

Worthless

words

white on white

and i spend time and confidence

chiseling them

and they me

#481 trail therapy

i drained the tightness in my chest

into my runners

and they sprinkled it into the clay and gravel and asphalt trails

buried

now can the body and its partners

sleep

without hiding from dreams

#480 murder?

today, i witnessed a crow funeral

five stood

silent reflection

why

what does this mean to me

what happened

surrounding their still comrade

then

in one understood moment

they flew

leaving the organized pile of feathers

#479 we're the kings of the castle

the trail to here is challenging and beautiful

rocks, steep climbs, wash-outs

and things to hard for words

the view wouldn't mean as much if we drove

so here we are

we've tried to summit before

and the attempts have led us here

the cliche top of the mountain

many hiking boots walked before us

many will follow us

but none will share our view

#478 taxpayers' black bloc

thugs in black

hiding their faces

anonymity in numbers

and on the other side of the protest line

thugs in black

hiding their faces

anonymity in numbers

#477 pain is a real facade

give more, get more

give more, get more

pain is a real facade

a solitary game between acknowledging and ignoring

a challenge to live in the here and now, in another time another place

pain makes grief and marathons, blood relatives

teaches you when to open the box

and when to close, lock, and hide the box

pain is a contradiction

pain is a true lie to the self

pain is a mantra

give more, get more

#476 an explanation

a peaked roof and a shining light

indicate the warmth on the other side of the door

the love

but love can be scary

he's scared because love has meant pain every time

but fear is weakness

and weakness is not an option

so he pulls out his bandana and his attitude

ready to fend off love

to hurt from a place where he can't see pain caused

to hurt to avoid being hurt

#475

canada's most colourful month

and cottonwood fluff floats diagonal

on a weak wind, or a firm breeze

the clouds sit on blue nothingness

flat and shaded on the bottom

bright and fluffy on the top

like childhood cookies from the oven

remember the waiting

hands on oven handle like a streetcar handle

the one lightbulb a blur through translucent glass

and finally

just when your patience with time turns from annoyance to anger

Mom says they're ready

and I am ready for this season

snow and rain will be back

but not today

#474 and fruit flies like a banana

the clock tells me its time for you to stay and time for me to go

the clock says you and i are in different time zones

the clock says this time it's for good

which is too bad

but it's for the better

the second hand waves goodbye like an emotional frosh-week mother

the hour hand moves like a man at a funeral

and the second harmonizes with my heart

that use to be yours

#473

band-aids and prescriptions won't fix everything

but our world is overfull of them

everywhere i look

families and policies and structures

temporary adhesives and placebos

adorn every street corner and every window

but we don't see them

#472 kjhklgljhg

i stare at a teasing cursor

waiting for inspriration

play some music, listening for a poem

close my eyes, but doubt enters

then my fingers touch the keyboard

gobbledeeguk

but then it turns to words

then it turns to meaningful words

and i find inspiration and a poem

through action

#471 pillow talk

i lie down

i lie down

until his face twists

contorts

he rolls over

i roll over

back to back

his side, my side

silent tears roll off my face, sideways

but they leave a creek trail

in their search for cotton pillow case

and i lie, unaffected

but this leaves a trail

#470 grass stains

i stare at a blade of grass

so preoccupied with its own struggles

sun, rain, insects, disease

stare at its veiny structures

i imagine the blade of grass

in all four seasons

now, under blue sky

soon, entering autumn

sleeping through winter

yawning and stretching for spring

then i stand and look at the vast field

full of blades of grass

each living its own struggle

and i walk back home

#469 the DONE List: the new fad in personal satisfaction

i started my little list of "To-Do"

to help me achieve a thing or two

but the list grew, from a couple, to a few

and each "one more thing"

reminded me of something new

i filled the left and then the right

then flipped it over too

but still, my list grew

and grew and grew and grew

so that now i'm on scribbler number two

and you can see i'm stressed

by these fingernails i do chew

mow the backyard

(first scoop up the doggy-poo)

unclog the sink

of its gunk and goo

go to the store

so much to do

so much to do

and i throw it all in my big recycle bin

and i start a new list

and title it "Done"

and my nails relax and i have fun

#1 i got up to day

ahhh, relaxing

#2 i made a to-do list

#3 i threw out a to-do list

and on and on my list does grow

any sign of stopping? no

and i go back through days and weeks

and a pattern does grow

some of the same items appear as on my old list you know

put out the garbage

do the dishes

and

record my favourite show

then the real does start

beside each item i scribble a happy little check mark!

check

check

this is the life

who knew how much i'd accomplished?

now this is pleasure, this is liesure

this is a list that i do treasure

and i will not recycle this

instead i'll stamp and mail

for a magazine to publish

#468 morning reflections

i stumble from bed, don a clean-ish shirt

en route to the dryer to finish my outfit

i glimpse out my window

the mountain stares from flat grey light

naked from the waist down

clothed in fog from the waist up

am i looking at a flattering mirror or

is the mountain looking at its reflection

in some perverse fun-house mirror

#467 rattling along

three people co-exist in a subway car

rattling along underground

metal breaking silence

a mother

her sleeping toddler

and across the aisle, a woman, thirty-something

the toddler wakes, crying

the mother adjusts her shirt and bra

offers a pale breast

the woman's eyes fill with silent water

her hand moves to her flat stomach

caressing

#466 inside a tree

the heart is the part dead the longest

before anything visible

still serves purpose

and hides death beneath what is seen

as the rest grow so does the heart

and the death

#465 all hail

the rectangle sits on its throne

focal point of a successful living room

giving out moving pictures

sucking up family life

shiny and tasteless

new and artless

sleek and brain-sucking

#464 moveable chords

fingers slide up the neck

my ears love the sound

though they shouldn't

fingers slide back down for another chord

a soft screech

somehow acoustically pleasant

as real as the worn wood spaces

beneath the third and fifth frets

#463 heartwood

heartwood, as dead as childhood

but remains, providing shape for new growth

nothing but rot now,

the more rot, the more difficult and the less relevant birthday candles grow

heartwood, invisible to passersby and non-dissectors

and when the wind wins

when the top admits defeat in the quest to reach the source of heat

all will fall

the outside will catch up with the new

all will rot

and decompose

and re-compose

#462 dear grammy

did death whisper to you in your recliner

into your wrinkled hairy ear

or was it your god or an angel

or was it him that slipped out the porch, hat in hand

leaving the door open

maybe your legs just couldn't walk to the kitchen again

maybe your gnarly fingers were ready for the walk years before

but stayed to peel potatoes for the man by the washer

#461 centered name tag and other dangerous social doings

forget your name and introduce yourself

play drums and ride motorbike

watch the asphalt's dotted stripes pass by you

front to back

sell stories on a street corner

move to a hermit cabin and let the world come see you

one searching visitor at a time

make your jackknife your most valuable thing

then slap on your My Name is tag and laugh

at our world and its rules

#460 young thoughts

neil on the radio

i could sit in this chair all day

do nothing and

feel productive

lose myself in heavy bass and soft acoustic

in an almost whiny voice

and its ambiguous lyrics

he makes normal cool

out on the weekend and down by the river

singing of Her and She

and their impact

three ways of talking

voice and fingers and breath

i sit in this chair

as the night falls

on this setting sun

#459

grief hits like a second poem

unexpected

uninvited

in hindsight,

she banged on the door and demanded entrance

but at the time, we thought it was the wind

my friends Solitude, Denial, and Myself

#458 without warning/ punching this pregnant woman

the book's words echoed in my head

as you showed me the two-line sign from today's gods

Science, Medicine, and 24hour Drug Departments

the 4 inch booties grew heavy

but paul, i didn't get to speak to her for a last time

or a first time

and i don't think she can hear me

not aloud

not allowed

chords and lyrics and playlists

even weekly flyers

remind me

what almost was

and what might be again

and time does keep moving

no illusion

i have my fists

but for no use

who do i punch?

a fairy tale god?

a voice from an iPod?

this pregnant woman on the sidewalk?

#457 understanding cohen

i'm closer to understanding cohen

i've been the choir drunk

and moved to the second verse

my lyrics, open and cold

my voice, heartfelt and hopeless

i trade quantifiable quality and predictable popularity

for pot-scraped soul and life-tested reality

now i must place all my ribbons in a box

shovel rocky mountain dirt

wet with rain from above
wet with rain from within

and dog-paddle the moat to the castle

i've asked for too much and for not enough

i have tried, in my way, to make her feel free

now may she accept the castle key

now, now that i'm closer to understanding cohen

#456 daisies and lemons

daisies on the kitchen table

a fresh coat of bright paint

she shines life on his dreary

a fifteen minute tidy

a car wash

she gives newness to something old

fine dishes for a meal

lemon in the ice water

she adds occasion to the ordinary

#455 what's your normal?

a place

where mountains are not a cliche

but a to-do list item

where your skis are a status symbol

and your vehicle is a point of shame

unless it's a truck and your friends want a ride to a trail

where you lock your rotting bike shed

but not your front door

and did i mention that most bikes there cost more than most cars there

where the doctor and the waitress are hard to distinguish

a place where there's more consumers on the trail than in the stores

yeah, i'll take that place

#454 stronger than the grain

for now

only the pain of pressure of the vice

two pieces of wood sit

separated only by the hardening glue that will hold them together

but with time

the pain will soften and the bond will harden

the glue will be stronger than the grain

and if the new board

made of the two old boards

should break

it will not break at the joint

but one of the old boards will break

leaving a thing incomplete

broken

#453 people and small birds

i pished

swinging my head in ray charles figure 8's

waited

silence

pished

waited

curious chirping and peeping

what is that? they squeaked to each other

hopping further out on limbs

i wait, still

and they come closer and closer

unafraid

#452 from the almost-father

we were going to have a baby

a girl i think

maybe a boy

she reached the size of a thumbnail

try not to tell me it's a blessing

try not to tell me it's nature's way

i am grieving a perfect baby

not a defect

but don't be scared

say something

if you don't know what to say, try i don't know what to say

if you think i'm sad, i am

if you think i'm happy, assume i'm faking

flowers and food and cards and calls

they help

i don't know why or how

they help the pregnant belly that never bulged feel real

make my confused feelings seem legitimate

give me the memories i feel cheated out of

i know time heals all

that's why i'm holding on

just help me through this moment, this minute

it's not the unintentional dead baby jokes that hurt

it's the silent assumptions of normalcy

hugs and kind words help me feel

make it real

they tell me i'm not stupid for being sad

for still waking up and going to sleep

grieving for a baby i never met

the idea of that baby

the idealization of that baby

#451 positive

portaging between lakes

my world reduced

to the five meters of trail in front of me

i see plants on the side

then only rock, barren rock

and i'm glad there are both

but i envy the green

nothing to think of

but the thoughts i've avoided for months

the ultrasound, the doctor's wide silk tie

less than one percent chance

rock

rock

silk tie

more rock

then, a bank of rock

with pine seedling with a toehold on canadian shield

clinging

and reaching upward

#450 alone

there is dust on the spiderwebs in the corner

long forgotten

the broom exists under a pile of clutter

table bed and sink

all that is needed in this bachelor's life

table bed and sink

and a window

to watch through

waiting

#449 of justice and of babies

cheery flowers crowd the kitchen table

bright gifts for a dark occasion

the flowers stand, beautiful and dead

slurping last gulps from glass vases

topics of conversation for each new awkward visitor

-is that a yellow gerber?

-no, a sunflower

but among all the background greens

you'll find no baby's breath

none

#448 healing

gerber daisies and tin-foiled casseroles

together with hugs and time

conspire not to forget

but to forgive Fate

to move on

to enjoy life after tragedy

to store guilt in a dusty attic

for the alternative

is not moving on

a sinful option

so cry three good cries

then throw out the kleenex box

and step outdoors

#447 pinto

we return from hospitals and early loss

make sad phone calls instead of happy

tears erupt from unexpected causes

dead baby jokes, no problem

but baby carrots in the fridge, empty me

the pink book we curled up with together, two nights ago

now a black anvil cloud on the shelf above our bed

early losses make late lessons

though the bean did not break ground, we know the garden will

so we wait

exposing pain and grief by bits

#446 single track mind

Hyperventilation

two lines

one Castle

the right words

left unsaid

a happy knee scraped

no protective gear

no armour