February 28, 2010

#334 webster's questions of after life

what is a dead human body?
a manikin with an expiry date?
a soul's gate to heaven?
if the human body is special
why does it go cold and stiff and foetid
like rats and roadkill?
why do we sanctify with ceremony?
to ward our mortal fear?
do you really think we can feel a rose?
or hear a mower?
do you really think these gestures
practical and romantic, irrespectively
are for the dead?

someday we'll lift thoughts from the brains of the dead
like recovering lost data from a laptop
there is but one thing that follows life:
death
and the Liffey River if you believe i the same book i do


February 27, 2010

#333 the heart is an organ









wal-mart hallmark aisle
february 15th, half price
for my never-to-be, valentine

grocery store bin by the check-out
discounted hugs and kisses
never-to-be smile, my valentine

best value
Florence the Florist dumpster
and in my journal a note for a card
trademark never-to-be, valentine

she sat two seats in front of me in grade 7
and i don't know who sat between
i read deep into her cut-out valentine that said bee mine
never-to-be, valentine

i make love to you
under my covers alone
never never-to-be, valentine

#332 the life of memories

Herbie was lost in the garden on the hill, east-facing
back when the top of the fridge was a world away
lost in the same place as sookie blanket and brother's toy-bike
the garden of dougall and mary-jack and other characters of my mind
silly stories grow meaning in life
the bumps behind uncle's barn become legend
ordinary-upheavals turn fable-tombs
and the salience of chocolate cake and rocking chairs multiply like multiple malinoma
memories grow and shrink and flip and somersault into new lives

#331 clutter on a saturday morning

rain drops drip drop randomly
through an absent eavestrough
and straight-line past the window
out of my sight and mind
making room for followers.
between the window and me
undone unmatching dishes
lie heavy in overcast light
the ugliness of the floor
once a peeve, goes unnoticed

February 26, 2010

#330 the land of hope for all those who toil




a country barely older than the world's oldest person
younger than some of its trees
a nation and a people shaped by geography
prairies and mountains and lakes and oceans
small town manners
seeking concrete identity in a world of liquid change
donuts and pucks and maple leaves and beer
french and english and indigenous and more
many ancestors arrived by boat
seeking adventure, seeking identity
on a map the lines are so clear
that as an adult i still expect to see a black sharpie line on the road
as in my head i say "goodbye alberta, hello BC"
and the north remains a mystery, a fruit of ignorance

February 25, 2010

#329 THE END








the first two weeks of our relationship
like a crappy movie's preview
was promising
but now i'm considering walking out of the theatre
except i've committed so much time
and i still have some popcorn
i figure
maybe it'll get better





February 24, 2010

#328 of lost laundry and love

i lost a shirt once
my favourite
years later i found it in a forgotten bag at a friend's house
but the shirt was different, something was wrong
the shirt was the same but now the wrinkles and holes and faded marks
once loved or unnoticed
grew ugly
how much time apart is too much?
how many clock-rotations to defeat love?

in the same bag is a picture of Steph and me, both in pairs of my pajamas
we were in love once
she the sky over the land of my life
and nights brought beautiful bedsheet horizons

and now, now the present stains the past
there is no spot for her in my wardrobe
love and time, once a designer's dream, now clash


February 22, 2010

#327 a use for sweet lemons

i would rather win from an argument
than to win an argument
if i come out knowing exactly what i knew going in
what did i win but one argument
if i lose an argument
i learn something
i win knowledge
can i win an argument and win from it?
i think so
can i lose an argument and win nothing from it?
i say yes

February 21, 2010

#326 dismay

pfb and her old lady tea
pj bottoms and kkk top
crossword in hand
she wants a 6-letter word for disappoint
despite her verbosity, she is at a loss for the word
she was depressed once
years ago
exams and stress
threatened to slit her wrists
that's when her mother intervened
okay, just do it outside dear

#325 grandparenthood


the second time around
the stresses are in perspective
or ignored
time is shorter
long term is another lifetime away
cookies and money and gifts
outnumber lectures and lessons and learning

February 20, 2010

#324 unwrapped gift







long ignored strings ready to cry and yell and whisper for you
to take in your pain and over-enthusiasm and turn them into something sonic
if only for the moment
and the rest of the time, they sit unplayed and untouched
humming the beauty that will never be reached
the songs they could've played
as dust collects below them

#323 more on plot

a granite grave sits unvisited
not due to lack of love
but excess
and the guilt that accompanies
and the grave wonders what happened
and the living scourges daily
walking by corner-store flowers, meeting a hearse, reading obits
and the green grass grows where the mower blade is preserved
and rain collects from granite runoff

#322 in memory of a loving wife

the hum of the fridge
the dog scratch marks on the door
the smell of the bakery next door
all unnoticed until they're gone
the body must ignore
or suffer sensory overload
but now
now i wish i'd heard the fridge and smelled the bread
felt her morning peck at the cardoor

February 19, 2010

#321

a young man stares out from the photo, black-and-white
and my brain fights to accept this man is my grandfather
a restless stare, actively vacant
but the shape and the hollow cheeks hint of the grandfather yet to come
we move with time and time moves without us
time chugs over the tick of clocks
calendar is a word in a meaningless alphabetized book

February 18, 2010

#320 wasted

more glasses than any person should have sit on my table, dirty
and four light switches sit on in my sight
in my t-shirt, i stand and slide up the heat

February 17, 2010

#319 rock people

these rocks will tell you where you've been, where you're going, and who has gone before you
these rocks will tell you where to find fish and where to find cabin safety
ancient billboards
there is something mystical about it
even one built today

February 15, 2010

#318 emptying the sink

out back, under a weathered tarpaulin, is an abandoned sedan
some rust
once a pride

he sees this through his corner window
by his writing desk
pen in hand

he reaches down and his biceps curl the lower drawer open
the folder has weight, heft
tension and readiness battle within his skeleton

as the folder thuds into its workspace
the tarpaulin flaps open in the wind
reveals a promising decal

February 14, 2010

#317 may he rest in peace

a man dies on the international stage
and is you-tubed to homes and offices and cafeterias
for his family to avoid

maybe there were mistakes
mistakes and pressure are frequent bedmates
and there was pressure
but why watch
less than a decade ago we debated IF an extreme sport death would be advertised
now forever a part of the digital collective

millions of 50-some second views
millions of human minutes
human life spent on human death

February 13, 2010

#316 "It's not easy facing up..." (rolling stones)








thugs in black bunnyhugs
break HBC windows and we and our media call them anarchists
because protester and demonstrator are clean words since seattle

hide behind black handkerchiefs because they feel stronger
desecrate the windows of our society's gods
the gods we worship with modern plastic-card idols

and though they are motto-less,
if they did have a motto,
it would not be citius, altius, fortius
but slower, more down-to-earth, gentler

because they hate our society
they hide behind masks
because they are embarrassed about their respectable job and their engineering degree and their poli-sci degree and making their parents proud at the cost of their own souls
and feeling as fake and as manipulated as the news-shows that make anarchist a dirty word
they hide behind masks because to say these things they feel would hurt the parents they love

democracy is a lie
a joke
an insult to intelligence
it is a castle in the polluted sand
and they believe they are a drop of water in the flow phase of a powerful tide

they see what we are doing to ourselves and they feel helpless
all they can do for us is put on an anti-uniform uniform and break a window

they believe our grandparents were better than we are
they believe in hard work over immediate gratification
but without their kerchiefs and scarves, when the black costume is removed, they submit to temptation offered by hundreds of channels and take-out places and prescription pills
they believe our system is unfixable, must be destroyed
they break windows, as the catholic church burned books
thinking it's for our own good

they believe demonstrating and protesting are passé
respect the effort
but laugh at the ineffectiveness, the lack of logic
because if they don't laugh they'll cry
protest against a System that dictates the 5 W's of your protest?

in their minds, they are a concentration camp prisoner
spitting in the face of their captor, their friend's captor, their parent's captor, your captor

they are too angry to care what is right
angry knowing our society is wrong and wronged

they walked by one too many bums on the street and realized the bum was someone's kid
they've committed ideological suicide
preferring a question mark over our current System
a dirty S-word in their language
dirty words include:
Religion, Corporation, Government, Salary

they travel in 10 and 20 and 30
30 max
because they don't trust numbers
their generational subculture is only a slight twist
don't trust anything over 30

they are weak yes
but they are strong
David was armed with slingshot and they with hoodies and bricks
they find much-needed success in getting on the news, or getting a police reaction, or being called an Anarchist, with disdain
they are cowards
but they are brave
are you passionate enough about anything to risk jail, risk being cameraless with armed police?
they are our late-night jerry maguire ideas and ideals
made laughable by our boss: the alarm clock
in their acts of defiance, they find meaning, meaning we do not offer

did you ever sit in your car, sit and wait in your driveway, unable to face the monotony that is a 21st century north-american life?
they did. but they broke.

unveil a few black bunnyhugs...
90% white kids, twenty-somethings, upper-middle class, educated, quiet, intelligent, male
all-powerful kings in their parents' generation, lost in their own

but we will not end them by catching them
or arresting them
or beating them
arrests and billy-clubs will only be head-bashing whack-a-mole mallets

we must try understanding them
we
must change

my goal is not forgiveness but understanding
and at the risk of misunderstanding, i hope i am unforgiving in my goal of understanding
though i warn you
in small print and fast-speak
side effects of understanding may include forgiveness, compassion, solidarity, and other forms of humanity

beating them with violence is what they want
so they can say, in good conscience
see, we told you so
we cannot defeat them
for defeat over them
is a loss
we can only win with them

remember
the lines of police that represent and protect us
wear bigger masks



#315 when pepper precedes sodium


age surrounds me now
in the books i read
in the wrinkles of the bookmark i use
in the mirror
in the shaver i use
in the people i see
those still here, and those whose bodies lie in a box
age is everywhere in all shades
unnoticed
like green in a summer forest
and only the coloured flowers stand out to me now
the beer
the chicken wings
the jogs-called-runs

February 12, 2010

#314 consciousness collage

paranoid voices, whisper and scream
sharpies upon post-it notes
crosses above doorways, once common
now anachronistic
sharing cake behind a chair
a story that dies with time
like a zillion other moments
important in their own way
forgotten significance
an elastic strap for glasses
so uncool as to be cool

February 10, 2010

#313 april 13th

a 13-ball tattooed on his left forearm
a cue ball with a red stripe and two digits
i think greasy
but he remembers the lightness
his grandmother in her box
up the church steps

her glasses held together with masking tape
urkle gone wrong
i think trailer-trash
and she saves $50
toward her son's education fund
a step up out of the life she fell into

February 9, 2010

#312 on writing

a friend
too long too call
too good to forget
awkward?
a phone call away

at the bottom of a cotton bag
at the side of the closet
under rarely worn clothes
a waste?
just one moment's decision

February 8, 2010

#311 iRemember









not long ago, a post was something you drove into the ground, hoping for no rocks
a mailbox, something at the end of your street
a hard drive was the cabot trail, in a hailstorm
an address identified your home, a building with things called windows (objects made of glass)
memory, something that helped you learn your times tables

icons were Michael Jackson and Elvis
downloading, the embarrassing way of descending the ski-hill on your grade 5 class trip
cpu, a drink container for dyslexics
printing was the predecessor to cursive
and network was a question you'd ask about the spare boots in pond hockey
net work?

February 7, 2010

#310 smokin'


character

this is no box-chain establishment
this is anti-establishment, without the anger

beside the till is the inter-achronism
further, a killer jukebox
news clipping, impeached dog

but we drove by
thinking: sometime...

living-room atmosphere, and service
every second square inch of the walls a story
hand farm equipment lives in harmony with sport paraphernalia
buckles and pins and postcards abound
a bar, a city hall, a hang-out

simple
good
a lesson in what our full lives are missing



February 5, 2010

#309 obey all traffic signs









stop

post-it notes on the fridge
cell messages
and arguing at night because you "want to talk"

i yield
exhausted

earning invisible money that should put us into ultra-black by now
our house is a lie
i must've turned left when i should've made a right
on the road to my dreams

i played by society's silly rules
tried to Keep Right
merged, one-way
painted myself into a corner
dead end
why
afraid of paint on my sole
afraid of freedom on my soul

February 4, 2010

#308 February 7, 2010


resolutions forgotten
the F month is 1 week old
in one week more
we'll worship the imprisoned letter-writer, hallmark's bitches
one block on a calendar
when winter covers our memory, white-space
and spring is a mirage, soul-tease

can you remember 5 weeks back
what you promised yourself you'd do this year, again

#308b when?

motivation is a challenge in safe heated structures, catalogue quality houses
overstuffed with overstuffed leather and flat screen plasmas
overstuffed dreams and an unfullfilling reality
air conditioned comfort, conditioned responses
overweight pets mirroring owners
pre-fab homes and pre-fab lies
at every click of your remote controller
controlling you, not so remotely

we need a hero
a gandhi
a teresa who doesn't die in the regal paparazzi shadow
dennen sings of it
and franti
and others
but we need someone to take the bullshit by the horns
to act
not in the hollywood sense
but the human one
we need someone
i need someone

#307 the writing...

a boy, an old spirit
strikes a silent violin in the plant's shadow on my wall
no tears fall from his sad rorschach sillhouette
tears were obsolete for him ages ago

the plant is green and healthy and happy
attracts visitors
improves surroundings
adds life

but behind the cheer
the boy plays for no one
not for joy or fame or status
but because the world whispers to him
he ignores the world's shouts
"Be happy!"
and hears the world's whisper

February 3, 2010

#306 first shift alone

shallow
breaths
tense neck
tight back
busy hands
muscles
too-ready
jaw
set

a mountain in my head
mammoth potential for failure

in through the nose
out through the mouth

a mountain can't fit in your head
relax
smile
enjoy

#305 far end of the last horse barn (printed in "the Maynard")

spinning lights, screaming girls
cotton candy, midway mud
seasoned carnies vying for attention

exhibition barn
old men and strong whiskey
plaid shirts and worn flasks
an old world, new to my nostrils
rebelliousness permeates the air with the smell of animals
my throat burns but i resist coughing
old enough not to tell Mum
young enough to call her that

back to the main arena
find my father
sit beside him in silence
arms folded
a step closer to manhood
but holding my breath

#304 must be something in the keg

a youthfulness exists here
even the old are young
seniors and grown-ups, excitement
rivaling kids' on snow days
people smile as they pick up there mail
glee over new toys
old is not boring here
in fact, we don't call it old
we call it older
subconscious evasion of connotations
is it the mountain?
the snow?
the griz?



February 2, 2010

#303 inspired by the spirit bear










he looks good
but like his necktie
purpose is lost

out of time and place
a social chameleon
clicks his soul off at night
mistaking Absence for sleep
jumping from pm to am without Rest

everyone likes him
enjoys his smile
but he knows his purpose remains unfound
and purpose unfound is forgivable
but purpose unsearched
inexcusable

February 1, 2010

#302 "Breakin' my mind"

are there No Smoking signs on heaven's entrance doors
or signs saying the number of meters away you need to be
announcements about silencing cellphones
questions about who packed your luggage
speed limits and stop signs
Otis maximum capacity
No Loitering
No Pets (theological debate)
Shirts Required
Do This
Don't Do That
No this
No that
No, No, No

No?

then why here
on earth as it is in heaven
christians
christians by heredity
christian by convenience
for thine is the kingdom

imagine
All Are Welcome
Thanks For Your Manners And Honesty
You Are Great!
Everybody is Wonderful
You're Good Stuff

What's your sign?


#301










a whir of tape
and clicks
and muffled hollywood voices

a rectangle of light
a see of faceless people
frame by frame by frame

the whole town knows his name
and they knew who his mother was
but that's it
no one speaks insults
worse
no one speaks

the town is alive
with meetings and gossip and events
technology everywhere
a 4-year old on an iPhone


and his life slides past others
frame by frame by frame