October 31, 2011

#912 ...in the sky

the chief's daughter- beautiful, naive
the european man- exotic, powerful
he pursues
she succumbs
the chief- obstinate, stoic
strikes a deal
to save face and pride
but the white man's promise was a a white lie
and now the daughter appears black, to those who know where look
and how

October 30, 2011

#911

a weekend away, ignoring the mounting chores and tasks
but upon return, they await
complete a few to reduce the guilt
but, you have to wonder
is this what you want life to be

October 29, 2011

#910 25-something

oops, i mean 2308
simple mistakes make for complicated calgary cab-rides
and don't forget the schwarma
but one ninja, two randoms, and three sabotage cops make for a great last night in october

October 27, 2011

#909 the little man in my head is pissed

there's a little man in my head
and the little man is draggin' his left heel in the dirt, drawin' a line
see he's been pushed and ignored and insulted
for himself, he had to draw the line for others
and pity the person who crosses the line
for theirs will be the welcome of rage

October 26, 2011

#908 the game

many men shoot game
with and without respect
enjoy the benefits

but i heard about a man
who spent the weekend in one spot
so he was a bush to the deer
they wandered by him, aimless

moments like that cannot be shot with a rifle

October 25, 2011

#907 supper walk

at the end of the yelling, and the cold rain, and the boring meetings, and the reprimands
at the end of each day
at the end of monday and friday and each day between
i arrive home and i breathe
i walk with my wife and my dog
and i understand, the world is a good place

October 24, 2011

#906 the fringe

squish all the paranoid people into the same hospital floor
jam all the criminals into prison together
isolate the members of society we dislike,
until we are left with the best bland-middle-of-the-road
exile them all,
feel fear and appreciation
that you are neglected to stay

October 23, 2011

#905 orangutans and aardvarks: 3 chunks of advice

first:
list, in your head, the people who make you laugh
i mean laugh,
like there was a buffoonery of orangutans trying to escape your belly, kind of laugh
memorize that list


second:
do something kind for those people
and double the time you spend with them
if your list is empty, start seeking new friends
sign up for a course, volunteer for a cause, pick a new hobby

third:
ask yourself-
would i be on anyone else's list?
if yes, great
if no, go to the mirror
and do your best impression of an aardvark in heat

October 22, 2011

#904 earl gray

the doorbell rings
i walk
through the window, i see two officers
inside, my heart turns to a november sunflower
i open the door
their mouths search for words and fill the space between us with uh's and um's
then the sounds turn to words
accident... everything they could... so sorry
they enter and i ask if they want a cup of tea

October 20, 2011

#903 petals to the ground

she lent me a pencil today
  she loves me
she walked by me in the hall without eye contact
  she loves me not

she watched the stars with me the final night of grade 10
  she loves me
she started dating the new kid
  she loves me not

she shared her blackest secret with me
  she loves me
she left for college
  she loves me not

she's moving back home
  she loves me
she says she needs space
 she loves me not

i asked her and she says i do
 she loves me
her car rolled off the straight, dry highway, driving to work after our final fight
  she loves me not

October 19, 2011

#902 down vest over wool sweater

the leaves crunch underfoot
(the happiest sound i've heard from death)
adding reflection and weight to my walk 

the autumn temperature pushes me into myself
i watch two leaves fall
spinning and fluttering and crashing into one another
journeying to being grounded in this, the third season
i name them
My Past and My Future

October 18, 2011

#901 crossing the lake

i thought we would feel the same
together for a decade before exchanging rings
and we feel similar to before, but change is sneaky
overnight we swam across a lake
from the town of Couple
to the village of Family
we swam, two people, together

the lake is the same, the two sides are the same
i am the same, you are the same
but "we" and "perspective' changed

now we rest on the shore's edge
resting up from the swim
ready for the next swim

October 17, 2011

#900 angel garden lake (Am,E, D)

lost my new oar
lost my old roar
out on the lake
must have been some
kind of mistake
out on the lake
now she floats all alone
never knowing her home
bobs alone on the lake
i paddled by hand
until i found land
out off the lake
stumbled through fog
then carved her a log
...
now she lives in a rose
in the garden corner
...
i arrive at her tomb
ripped from the womb
...
....

#899 a bad day at work

weep for all your money cost you
cry for the memories and lament the moments
8 to 5 times 5 times 52 times you
trade your hands your mind your back your time
for a pay cheque and a pension
is it worth it

October 16, 2011

#898 the atlantic

the flower in its vase drinks water, drinks life, so slowly i do not see
so it is with me and this place
but, like the flower, my roots are cut, and i wonder how long
how long before i wither, how long before this vase and its water grow murky
can i go back to the garden
are my roots still there
is my garden still there

October 15, 2011

#897 to those in the know

how many barrels must a man stare down, before you call him a man
how many bikinis must a video have, before you can call it cool
yes and how many black friends must a non-black man have, before he can call himself black
the answer my friend is blowing in the wind. the answer is blowing in the wind

#896 reflections of a white person


I am white.
Unfairly, that gives me unwritten rights.

When the stranger crosses her street, I don’t question if it’s a product of my pigment.
When I am hired, I don’t wonder if they chose me, to meet some job equality policy.
When I received my degree, no one called me, “a tribute to my race,” and I do not carry the weight that can come with such a title.

I am white. As a kid, my parents did not have to drive to the city to find me white action heroes. They did not need to research to find movies and shows with white lead actresses and actors.


There is no pressure on me to be a great basketball player, or a genius mathematician, or to attend a powwow. I know little about my ancestry, and no one tells me that’s a shame.

I do not need to wonder if my native tongue (English) conspires against me with words like blackmail and blacklist and indian-giver.


I am white. I can find people of my colour that are powerful examples in a any profession or pusuit.
I am from Canada, like my mother and hers, like my father and his. I am proud to be Canadian, proud to be Scottish, proud to be MacDonald, and many other identities intertwined with the paleness of my skin. I am not proud of being white.

But nor am i guilty. Sure, I never had to lay awake at night, and justify hanging a human from a tree; but i have dealt with the guilt of wondering if, born there and then, would the lynch-mob list include me.
I am white.
I do not apologize for being white. Nor do I feel pride. I feel lucky. Fortunate. Unfairly so.
I am white. Unfairly, that gives me unwritten rights.

I do not need to fight for respect, it is assumed. I do not need to worry I’ll be the only white kid in a class full of kids studying white history month and, to date, I have never been asked to speak as a representative of white people.
Unlike the native man across the street, I can stumble home from my favourite bar with zero fear of being called a dirty drunk Caucasian.
When I am interrogated at the border… okay, hypothetically, IF I am ever interrogated at the border, I will not wonder if it’s because of racial profiling.
I have two sentences I will separate by a period, not join by a semi-colon. Let grammar reflect my belief that the statements are separate, not joined.
I am white.
I am proud.
I am not proud to be white. But I dropped the guilt years ago.
I did not choose to be white, I will not wish not to be white.
I am white. I am privileged. My life is easy and advantaged in ways I will never know. My privileges are not invisible; they are so visible I do not see them. Like the air in front of my eyeball, my privileges have been in front of me my whole life, so I don’t know what they look like. Like the wind, I cannot see my advantage, I can only try to describe it by its results.
You can hate me because I’m white. I can see how that would happen. And if you do, I feel for you, and I hope life delivers you happiness. I hope you use the anger i provide to do something good.
I do not look back on the history of white people to find my pride. I look at my brothers and my sister (siblings) who each fight their own fights. I look at my mum, who raised six kids. I look at my dad who worked hard, as hard as anyone I know, to provide. I look at my wife,  my aunts, my uncles, my cousins, at my friends, and at my neighbours.
I am white.
Unfairly, that gives me unwritten rights.

#895 two trees

as a tree-climber, i saw loved both trees, as i do now, but with naivete
then, as i grew taller, the trees grew together
winding and turning and intertwining
and this shaped me
then life took me away for a time, across the lines of maps, through various colours of globes
and when i returned, i saw those two trees again
saw them choking one another, competing for all the sun in the sky
overshadowing, strangling, hurting

i sat
on the empty lawn 
away from the shade and false comfort
i listened to myself cry

#894 road trip

i know a girl,straighter than a prairie highway double-solid
but one night with your body, would turn her into the cabot trail
your shoulders and your straight stretches
your loops and your beautiful bends
would turn her into a trans-sexual
to experience your trans-canada

the word miracle has been made as cliche as the needle in the haystack, by hallmark and human mouths
but i know a real miracle and that is this:
each night, i get to park my body alongside yours

October 1, 2011

#893 smiling out

fraught is my life
fraud is my life
my life is fraught with fraud
my life is fraud with fraught
fraud is my username and my password
for banking, for loving, for singing
everything
because routine is easier than living
and the couch more seductive than the garden
although the crack behind her cushions
steals both my soul and my loonies

#892 on a rainy october 1st

fog and rain and drear shrink my world
mountains and views disappear
shrinking my world
curtains are drawn and fires lit
shrinking my world
thoughts erase curtains and flames
an hour passes as i travel inside my head, inside myself