#672 party time

revealing bikini bottoms, a hot-tub, and too much alcohol
danger
sounds like a great night
until you learn that the wearer is a guy

#671 men at bar time

their feet slap the street
each loud word trying to impress the girls
words they'd never say in front of their grandmother
they spent too much time stinking up the bathroom with pretty smells
once in the bar, their drink becomes an outfit accessory
and i feel like shouting
look around you!
is this where you want to meet mrs right?

#670 of blades and people

one thing that's more dangerous than a sharp knife,
is a dull one
says the expert chef to the prep cook
and the wise old man
to the anxious grasshopper

asking more of something or someone than they are capable,
without giving help
results in pain

#669 days like this

make me forget yesterdays
and anticipate tomorrows
friends and family
food and fun
laugh until unrecognizable sounds squeak and peep and snort
their way out of my body

then at night i sleep
tired, happy, content
such are days like this

#669 taking over

this strange place will soon be mine

the colours and the shapes will be as internal as my organs

i will flip on the lights

unamazed that my mind knows the home of the switch

i will be able to navigate without lights

but for now

it belongs to her

#668 bedtime

what was once fun is old and tired
once flashy and new
now pathetic and chintzy
so do i change back to my old self
or find a new fun
and hear the old me mock

#667 sound and silence

"the amazing thing about wood is not that it burns,
but that it floats"
the amazing thing about the poet is not that she is published,
but that she writes daily
the amazing thing about the student is not the graduation,
but the more than a decade of sitting in a desk
the amazing thing about mothers is not the miracle of birth,
but the miracle of forever
the amazing thing about the Mona Lisa is not the fame,
but that like all paintings, it's just made with lines
the amazing thing about music is not the genius,
but that it's all just sound and silence

#666 "turn up the music"

some say evil lives in music
self-corruption in listening to rock n roll
but how else can a north american teen survive those
years between childhood and adulthood when we
realize the adults are just, on average, larger than children
they still exhibit tantrums and they still believe in magic
and the ones who have kids
all believe their kids' lives will be fixed versions of their own
the arnold to their devito

#665 picking strings, picking thoughts

fingertips run on metal strings
massaging some part of my mind
their bustle on their frets, soothes my own
music is a language that cannot be packaged in a dictionary
to do so is to put a bow on happiness
and to slip depression into a gift bag

#664 nature's ambulance-chaser's

after the flooding
cottonwoods thrive
benefiting from tragedy
not malicious,
circumstantial

line river beds
waiting for flood and erosion

#663 go fear

fear is a symptom of growth
and comfort a side effect of complacency
do you scare yourself everyday
do you try new things
music, courses, hobbies
do you share your skills in front of crowds

#662 flakes

month-old tire-tracks and footprints
fade and disappear as fluff falls from above
erasing sloppy browns
leaving new white
potential
self-promises and everyday revolution fill my head
as white fills yards
each one is unique
but what's it matter
when they share fate of purpose and of place

#661 sports and tools

what is a man
does he fix everything and drink beer from the bottle
does he cuddle his girl and hold doors open
does he dress well
does he have dirty fingernails
does he save words, and in doing so, save their weight
does he watch the 6 o'clock news uninterrupted
does he throw a tight spiral
does he know all the tsn stats and all the acronymic sport terms
what is a man

#660 atop the freezer, atop the world

remember the you that longed to see the top of the fridge
the mystery and magic in a place viewed by only adult eyes
occupied by only pens and change

remember the pinball machine in your stomach
as an adult hoisted you up, up in the air
and for precious seconds
you spied
the magic and the mystery

if you don't remember
try harder
for the sake of your self now
for the sake of your self then
for the sake of young people today

for beyond just pens and change
above the freezer exists,
all the mystery of childhood

#659 elastic bedsheet

i will protect you and cherish you
i'll warm your side of the bed and spread the elastic bedsheet
whether you wear my small ring or not
i will love you
i'll love you so much it will hurt me some days
but love and pain have always been friends
to avoid pain is to ignore love knocking on your front door
i will exhale easy beside you each night
because that is happiness
that is contentment

#658 for your thoughts

lowest odd denomination
they all make "sense"
perhaps we should call them something new,
coin a new term
trade five for a popular music band
and i'm done,
now that i've shared my two cents

#657 after the fact

and i read that rules are written after the fact in war
and i wonder, what about love
when are those rules written?
does the winner write them?
is there a winner?
perhaps there are two ever-changing sets of unwritten rules
which explains why love beats war
in the department of confusion

#656 unspoken

her body shows no signs of leaving the patio chair
one hand on her belly
looking out to the empty garden, nothing growing there
too tired to cry
too tired to sleep
a tired that sleep can't fix
behind her is a prairie house polluted with reminders
and a husband who just wants to move on
she sighs and her brain notices the sky
too beautiful
too big, too heavy

#655 discard

i am standing in the garbage truck's compactor
chewing my nails as space shrinks

okay i'm not
but i feel like my positivity is
everywhere, i see something i failed to do
or did wrong

everything around me is crumbling and falling apart
will my outlook be next

#654 "and what's from the earth"

a towel across the bottom of the door
green air clears up everything
a plate of treats is offered in rounds by the hostess
and in this apartment
i fail to see the harm
that we see in the media and the general public
i'm not even partaking of the herb, the gangha
but i see love and openness and people talking, really talking
the towel at the door filters
keeping smoke in
keeping hidden agendas out

#653 berry patch roots

i saw power
i'm surrounded by power
a dad that worked 9-5 for guys that disrespected him
worked to put groceries in the fridge and cupbords
and taught the power of satisfaction in a job well done
not taught with words but with life
i saw power
a mother who added water to the last bit of stubborn no-name ketchup
that clung to the plastic
she convinced it to come out
the night before grocery day
she added it to a huge hearty casserole built from nothing
i saw power
surrounded by brothers and a sister
who entertained each other with sticks and rocks
played in mud-piles and frog ponds
who shared 1 tv, and twice as may channels
i saw power
a grandmother who managed stairs without knees
after a life of ten kids and 50-plus grandkids
a life overflowing with love and empty of money
success wasn't a fat pay cheque
success was being proud of yourself and your actions when you humbled yourself each night at the foot end side of the bed
and happiness was knowing your family was alive and safe
i saw power
a big brother who paved roads through puberty and insecurity
and managed to remember us all through his teenage years
through the dark high school years
then decades later returned to finish what was started
i saw power
brothers who stayed home in the dark to avoid the scary light of society
grow up to be teachers and speakers and managers
managing the fear looking back from the mirror
i saw power
a brother
growing up picked on and kicked on who wouldn't tell
who found empathy for his abusers, explanations and justifications
who believes in justice every tic of every toc on every clock
i saw power
a sister
small in size, mammoth in character
who grew up behind five boys
a sister who, broke pine, steps tall, front of the line
i saw power
another grandmother
who lived a life of devotion and sacrifice
who loved knowing details of the lives of her kids and theirs
i saw power
a grandfather
who invented flyswatters made out of 3-owner thin shoe souls
who had no thing but new he didn't have "nothing"
married a english teacher who understood that two negatives make a positive
meaning, no matter how many bad things, if you stayed even, it was all good
a grandfather who found in everything, a reason to whistle
because happiness was a berry patch full of berries and empty of noise
i saw power
i'm surrounded by power

#652 a life on the rocks

i lived my life with boo's
boo's at my attempts to rise above the life around me
but somehow, now my life is filled with booze

#651 noise

turn the car radio off
listen to the silence
if it's too loud
deal with the noise in your head

turn off the tv and do some quiet thinking
avoid the temptations
of talking and smoking and drinking

just sit
breathe
be

#650 21 varieties

21 varieties of pasta sauce
really?
21 i disagree with Ford's opinion of black
but 21 varieties is excessive
lined up with labels and logos smiling at me in the ultra-bright aisle
21 varieties of tomato sauce
most with unrecognizable ingredients
to help the contents last forever
and to taste more like pasta sauce than pasta should

#649 mash potatoes and snow

requiem for childhood
when toys were serious business
for when time was different
when recess was a staple
and bedtime story a given
when mashed potatoes were castles and train-tracks and tunnels
and snow was a welcome wonder
and childhood had its hard days
but i look forward to providing one

#648 perspective on a plate

a long day at work
but i arrive home to a fresh hot meal
problems evaporate
turn invisible and move away
a peck on the cheek that is both habitual and meaningful
her smile shatters the downward spiral of my thoughts and everything starts over
fresh

#647 losing each other

friends and drinks and laughs around a warm kitchen table
music and teasing and eating
guitars and drums and harmonicas appear
memories, old and new
and then someone turns off the stereo and shouts
cab's here, let's go to the bar

#646 99 and 44/100

wash
scrub
there is not enough water in the municipal tank
to rinse this feeling down the drain
with sore skin
i find my towel
contaminate it with my body and my thoughts
the mirror catches me
i exit

#645 classic

two lines, parallel, separated by inches
stretch ahead of my skis
to the bend in the trail
a trail rooved by an archway of evergreen and cottonwood
speckled with stars
as a few flakes meander to the ground
inside my fleece is sweat
from burning off the stresses of the day
but those are gone from me now
and i am here
in this moment
arms pumping skis sliding
in this moment, minutes don't exist
because time, time forgets herself

#644 thank you

how lucky i am
to be this sad
only months
but so connected
so many stories
told and untold
and now i pull out of the parking lot
the last time
and i'm so sad
tears fill my eyes
how lucky i am to be this sad

#643 heartwood

the life you see on the outside
is because something died on the inside
tears come easier with age
christmas is a time for heavy memories

#642 in dreams

like smoke gripped by fists
last night's dreams sneak through fingers
and a part of me says pay more attention
but here i sit, typing this poem
there is something to dreams
not always direct
but a way to meet the various characters in me
that make me, me
so now i have a notebook and pencil on the bedside table
ready to scribble clues to night-stories

#641 frech fries

we lie on the hungover living room floor
french fries on a cookie sheet
three on the hide-a-bed, one on each couch, and six on the floor
the room was hot and the smell was stale
in my mind i haul my body up
but it's just a dream
and movement in the waking world wait's until eleven

#640 adventitiously

i mix and rearrange letter-tiles
waiting for words and high-points to appear
but i've got all vowels
the tired tiles are against me
i'm tired of single-digit scores
and then
the tiles on the board
the tiles on my block
conspire with my fortune

#639 after the interview

now fate lies in the hands of another
i procrastinate Time
busying my life with chores used to being avoided
even my tupperware drawer is organized
then i checked to make sure the phone-jack was ok and the ringer was turned on
still un-still, i wait

#638 beer caps and broken glass

eyes closed
hips move
music pumps over the bar floor
for now they forget
how boring their lives are

#637 in the night

sleep crowds my brain
dream-visions swim from ear-to-ear
familiar objects and common people
in new and uncommon ways
the pillow adjusted my brains reality
twisted up in the blanket
plays out as a hostage-taking
and real or not, it's real

#636 "porn speaks to its splintered legions"

what is the difference between a writer and a novel writer
the audience's ratio of reading to thinking?
what is the role of the poet
to introduce the mundane to the universal?
for whom/what does a poet write
self, reader, the work, the craft?

#635 bumblebees vs rats

in his head
bumblebees fight against rats
he is the man you avoid eye contact
something is switched inside his head
and then life events compounded the complication
and now he staggers by storefronts
cursing Michael and the other angels

he's smart
he knows his head is not right
and he's adjusted his life to avoid overthinking truths
and sometimes he's fine
but he experiments, learning how society treats its least fortunate members
and how do you stay sane
when you learn the answer

#634 a blob in the driveway

eye level snowbanks fill the middles of the streets
logical according to city hall thinking
walking is faster than driving
because the car is a buried blob of virgin white
and how will you get the snowbrush from the backseat
without snow spilling onto the seat
a challenge for another time

#633 a watched pot

i can see the bubbles rising to the top
from the stainless steel bottom
before now, boredom is all there was to see
these few bubbles are turning to more
and steam
anticipation of the surface breaking
of a rolling boil
a recycled waterfall gone mad

#632 tall snowbanks

i am indoors
under my heavy blanket, with my matching thoughts
cozy as the single-shovel path up to the red door
illuminated by a single lantern-style light
my mug is in the cupboard
but no worry
hot chocolate is a state of mind

#631 40+cm

friends fall in and out of life like seasons
i stand in snow up to my waist, imagining the yard in summer
i love all my friends and all the seasons
it's the time between seasons, that bullies my soul
cold and wet and sloppy outside
i stay inside in a house full of my own thoughts
but then spring comes, time for yards and gardens
and summer, play and late days
fall, hiking and reflection
winter, diving in snow banks

#630 a thank-you to fanatics and extremists

in a world full of fence-sitting and compromising and political correctness
where mediocrity is the norm
and passion is a word heard more often for soap operas than seen in life
change would be even slower without you
i envy your energy and passion
your absence of doubt in distinguishing wrong from right
i disagree with most of your actions
but in your conviction and effort, there are lessons for us all
in human potential

#629 volume control

behind a teenage door, she loses herself inside her earbuds
all the teachers and the parents and the rules
unheard for a moment
overpowered by music
the modern day cabin in the woods
a place of refuge, away from it all

from the latest heavy metal
to matt anderson's acoustic version of the boss
her soul's on fire inside her with a bad desire
young enough to wonder if she can change the world
old enough to know daddy can't fix everything

between songs

the deafening sound of the world failing
she turns up the volume

#628 mothers and daughters

we're both outside for fresh air
i never met him before
but we end up chatting
a girl walks by
tall, well-dressed, confident
the click of her high-heels fades ahead

he grins at me, i'd tap that for sure, wouldn't you?
i look at him
he waits for a response
sure, i'd tap "that"
i'd tap that four times
except i wouldn't call her "that"
i'd call her "her"
as a compliment
because she's part of the half of our race
usually responsible for mothering and nurturing
the beautiful gender
and each one of them is unique
some are tough and some are mean and some are "plump"
and as a gender, beautiful

i'd tap her alright
i'd tap her on the shoulder and thank her for being a beautiful confident woman
an inspiration to young girls around her
a weight i don't understand

i'd tap her brain for a while and find out what she thinks
of this society that disrespects her, objectifies her, under-appreciates her
and while she was answering, i'd bite my lip, until it bled
so i wouldn't be a typical, but unnoticed thing in our society
a man interrupting a woman

i'd tap into her knowledge as a confident-looking woman
in a world that is so often against her
in a world that jams her feet into unhealthy, high-heels
so she can fit into what we call "beautiful"
but while fashions come and go
women persevere
oh you mean, would i have sex with her
no
i wouldn't
because i found a woman who is special to me among them
and while i find the girl you're talking about physically attractive, i don't know her
and sex with her would risk the best things i have in my life
no
i would have to not like myself very much, to have sex with her
because i have a beautiful woman in my life

i want to say all this, but i don't
instead, the most i can say is nothing

#627 x&y

i am in a foreign land
where i misunderstand everything
the harder i try
the more i offend the locals
the language, the traditions, the expectations
using the washroom, cooking supper, laying down
all hazards
i seek to understand
not to offend
but i must relax soon
the human body was not meant for a perpetual state of fear
or maybe it was

#626 the dog can wait

he ignores the dog barking
(referred to as "the doorbell")
turning perspiration into inspiration
knowing that the Perspiration-Inspiration Trail
is not a loop, but an out and back
that he will do everyday
and just as the hiker's muscles will improve
grow defined and strong
so will his sentences
and the fresh air of the everyday walk
breathes health into his mental well-being
puffing up the needle on his happiness scale

#625 "hold it high"

more than fashion
more than red plastic
a poppy is a symbol of all that we have and take for granted
worn over the left chest, the heart
a poppy is dead ancestors we never knew
a poppy is a thank you for our fortunate place in time and geography
a thank you to anyone serving in our military, then and now and ever

#624 octogenarians

like a child's teddy forgotten
familiar turns to old, used up
our elders sit on shelves for show
useless
no reason to wake up
lack of purpose pushes them back to childhood
where faces change generations
and generations change faces
and they find their own teddies

#623 fourth stair from the bottom

in a house full of
visitors and brothers and sisters and tv's and parents and more
where he shared a room with two more
but there was one spot
that became a room when he sat
a room away from it all
where the world forgot about him
where he could see no one and hear everyone
where he could observe, unbothered

#622 sometimes, the first symptom is death

entering the last class of the day, he smiles
says hi to his friends and takes his seat
after school, he says goodbye and walks home
writes a note and leaves it on the kitchen table for his mom
then he goes to his parents closet
pulls out the rifle

#621 easier said

stay ahead of Fear
let it push you

tackle fears ahead of Fear
so Fear's efforts will help you

if Fear was a train
sit on the cowcatcher

when Fear does get ahead of you
change tracks

aim at another fear
while Fear visits the first one

manipulate Fear, he's a jerk that deserves it
welcome Fear, he can offer help

Fear is a neon sign flashing,
Opportunity

#620 stunted carrots

outside, rain falls like rain
inside, the writer struggles like a struggling writer
unique ideas hide like similes
then, a phrase as fresh as the taste of grit from a stunted garden carrot
and the writing bursts, like a paper-bag green tomato turned red

he wonders now, looking up to the window, if the frost didn't kill everything worthwhile
if the harvest isn't finished
if he isn't watering a dead garden
and outside, the rain falls like rain
inside, the write struggles like a struggling writer

#619 hour time together

the clock's tic pulls my attention
first my ear, then my eye, then my thoughts

she is the second hand, i am the minute
she charges around, lapping me 60 times an hour
my cautious, stealth pace

and as we do our our life
as we eat our suppers, check-mark our to-do lists, answer our phones
the hour hand, unnoticed advancement in any one glance
speeds in its unnoticeable march
in its war against Forever

#618 pink pearl

Touching the delete key using the soft end of the eraser saying that was my fault

These are not failures

but choices toward improvement

toward leaving the world a better place than what you found it

These are small successes, single stitches and single rows in the afghan of bigger successes

Use your eraser

And do not hide your erasing, curled behind your other arm, hovered over by your self-conscious body

Let people see you rubbing the beautiful pink rubber along the potential-filled

#617 give me music, give me words

listening to a new song, my mind is occupied
by sound and by lyric and by the combination
there is beat
and there is a voice beaten by experience
the voice speaks more than words
tension and release
an up and a down
a building, a crescendo
a sense of closure
whether a door slammed
or a light dimming
and those seconds of silence
after the sound, but part of the music

#616 manufactured moments

photos run through a field
wondering when they lost purpose
meaning is forgotten a word in a dead language
they save screens but not specialness of moments
zip and 'shop
cut and crop

#615 lazzzzy

so easy to skip
go to bed
so tired
just one day
soo tired

#614 no green bananas for Ida, please

he prolongs his bath
procrastinating what comes next
in the room down the hall is his mother, Ida
you don't know her

he stares at a bubble
knowing he will have to help her go to the bathroom
watch her cry as she realizes, again
you're my son, not my father

he unplugs the tub and rises, as slow as his mother
reaches for a towel for his naked body
watching the bubble
listening to the gurgle and swirl
water circling drain

#613 quicksilver

truth is as malleable as mercury on a kitchen counter
let it pass between your fingers
shape it as you will
when it hardens you cannot change the truth
until you change the environment, the temperature
truth...
the word, the concept, the syllable
is a golden lie
a silver conceit
a title we give the story we invent through life
life is a story invented to make sense of our inventions

#612 "now i'm a believer"

no more 2-4's from the LCB
no more sleeping in until a late lunch
not since i met her face
the face that whispers
i believe in you too much to believe you
your words like "can't" or "impossible"

i used to be an okay guy, a nice guy
sliding through life
enjoying myself
then i met her face
and good enough wasn't always good enough anymore
no more monster hangovers
back in the day all i had to face was the mirror
and i could and i did
now i face her face
a mirror that reflects the man she thinks i can be
a great man
and i don't know if i can
but as long as her face keeps believing
i'll keep trying

#611 TP

what does it say about a country
if their native population is stereotyped
as stupid addicts
what does it say about a country
if the native culture
is dishonoured
let us think again
without blaming others
let us recognize that something is wrong
something we all need to fix

#610 "nothin"

offered a toke at recess, he accepts
but coughs like a newbie
just as Taylor, the girl he likes, walks by

in science class, Mr Taylor gives him the test he skipped on friday
then, a good friend having a bad day, is sent to the office
the friend is already on "last warning"

on the way home
he realizes his pockets are out of smokes
and out of money

he opens the fridge
empty
and his Mom asks, "what happened at school today"

#609 funeral announcements in heaven

caroline? lillian? veronica?
where are you, did you stay in the kitchen
caroline? lillian? veronica?
i need you here
caroline? lillian? veronica?
no more p'tatoes to boil, let your gnarled hands rest
let your buckled knees sleep
come to bed with me
sit on the backyard swing
and listen to the radio dryer
i'll turn it up to hear gus announce
who'll be coming next for sunday dinner

#608 kenneth

those who don't go by them, refuse to share them
a secret for many
a road, a life
not taken?
an alternate identity unexplored?
worse in our mind than others
just a few letters, one word, maybe two
still
we refuse to share

#607 october 26, 6:30 a.m.

the dog sighs from her bed
my mind agrees
the heater fights the outside's cold rain
this morning is a tea morning
colder days are yet to come
but this feels colder than many will
adjusting to the loss of warmth
in five months, a 10 degree day will bring t-shirts
today, hats and mitts and wool sweaters
this morning
slurping my tea, i save my words and think my thoughts,

#606 welcome winter

the snow line shows a different world
a world i cannot believe will be here in weeks
good-bye grey and wet
hello white and clean
i'm ready

#605 i confess to all mighty gods

if i eat the bread but not the lie
will i go to your hell
which, i might add
makes more entertaining television than your heaven

and you who drink the weekly wine
but ignore the wino at your streetcar stop
and yell at your kids for whining when your patience is short
but wear your smile up the big concrete steps
to your fancy room of "worship"
where will you go after this life?

#604 14 and 1/2

his parents worry and question
which add to his withdrawal from life
and like teens over the last few generations
he finds solace in dark music and dark colours and dark emotions
he fights happy childhood memories
because they make him sad
carry him to an edge where he fears the wind will blow him off

#603 "weary, feeling small"

i've followed the expression cross that bridge when you come to it
for too long
now i face a web of bridges that all require crossing at once
a giant ball of knots
some are suspended, some are large, some even spiral
so many, i can't see the other side of the Paul and Art's River
my head is full of dark and heavy
please
ease my mind

#602 iPhoto

i look at the high school photo
my eyes are grabbed by the skinny boy on the right
his eyes say the whole world is watching me
his hands are clasped behind his back
as though he is a team coach of athletes, not one of a group of friends
i want to scream at him
stop being serious
relax
you won't even be in touch with these people in 5 years
but i know he will finish his high school years feeling out of place
i know this because i was him

#601 morning mourning

i missed the funeral by a day
the plane ticket was too expensive
visited this grave each of the five mornings since

each day i stared at this grass
inviting grief
today is the first day i cried

today i noticed the grass was cut
the image of a gas-powered lawnmower
(ride-on or push?)
running over her again and again
for four laps
brought tears and snot and choking sounds

#600 a vroom of one's own

i want to feel a cliched wind on a cliched open highway
to read pirsig and feel he's talking to me
i want to stop at a roadside tavern and bring my helmet in with me
to stop, on the shoulder, open my tool-bag, and solve some mechanical problem
i want to idle under an overpass and read a map while waiting out a rain
to ride past a long line of angry commuters to board the ferry
i want to meet another leather jacket, separated by a yellow line
to pass and to receive, the secret-wave

i don't need a harley or a ducati
just one i can call my own

#599 staring at a gold ring

there is a red-head somewhere in the world that stays in his head
he remembers, not every day,
but days like today
and he wonders where she is now
still in the big city?
still tough and vulnerable?
still single?
years after they last stood face to face
he remembers hers just as well
and he wonder
does she think of me?

#598 a promise named noose

how can i stay here

my sins are on my head like a hat

my neighbours fall into two groups

those who point and then insult

those who avoid eye contact and then whisper

every road sign, every radio song, everything says leave

except my word

i told her i'd stay

and so i'm here

don't feel bad

i own the insults and the whispers

my sin was a one-moment mistake

but it was My mistake

#597 workshops and editing

like a song brought to the band
he thought it was perfect
ready for sharing
he wasn't ready for the wheelbarrow full
of suggestions, opinions, complaints
but what hurt the most
they were right
eventually he separated himself from the puddle on the floor
and went back to work

#596 let us stay in this time, this place

in the name of childhood
let trash-can lids be my shields
and broom-stick handles be my swords
that cooking-pots protect my head and my life
as i protect yours

in the name of childhood
you in your tin-foil tiara
and bed-sheet gown trimmed with lace
i'll be your day, i'll be your knight
the only evil, is a dragon
such is childhood, so black and white

#595 hallowed be thy mane

your back faces my front
hands fill with prurience
needing and kneeding your exposed shoulder
limbs and moans
warm sweat and flushed flesh
your face
spasms, begs
your mane, spreads every direction
until
the collared gentleman facing us says
...forgive us our trespasses as we forgive...

#594 the smell of sulphur

dry grass and pine needles
small twigs
bigger twigs (all dry)
and the magic ingredient, birch bark

alone in the woods
out of parents' sight
i dig the matchbook from my pocket
read its grocery store slogan, where community lives

i tug out a single match
strike it, below my nose
savour the burning smell of sulphur
then, birch bark crackles my excitement out loud

then the grass and needles
the twigs, big and small

and i stare at the jar of gasoline
stolen from the shed

you can label me arsonist
but i don't trust people who say they never played with fire
the difference between us
is i slipped, i got caught

#593 handle with care

ever tempted to catch a falling knife?
perhaps it was your hand laid her in her precarious position on the kitchen counter's edge
your absent-mindedness left her forgotten there
and your thigh that bumped her
into her fall

but don't reach!
ignore your impulse to reach out, to help, to save
wait
let the knife hit the floor first
flesh is more sacred than linoleum

#592 December 25th 7:45 am, faking surprise

basements are a great addition to childhood
playgrounds of imagination mixed with limited supervision
a world of pirates and dragons and tickle-trunks
treasure hunts enjoyed in dim magical lighting

one boy playing a reality treasure-hunt
searching for the loot that makes christmas christmas for kids
shining and new
this is the boy's first year in on The Secret
revealed by Mother two months before
he stands on the camping duffelbag and slides the plastic top off the faded orange cooler
he discovers the jackpot
his wish-list's #1 item atop stocking-stuffers
page #102 in Sears Wish Book
he stares, then jerks the cover back over
climbs down
wishing he could forget what he saw

and the basement lighting seems bare and ugly

#591 finding home again

a place for exhaling and flopping
for recharging
a safe place to be me
a building with walls
a town with familiar smiles
these things yes, and something more
something inside me
alive and relaxed

#590 drowning anxiety

and the red wine pulls you by invisible leash
your safe friend at a party
as the red touches your lips, you relax
comfortable in your discomfort that makes you human
ready to join the masses

#589 we are both

some things should be clear
but it wasn't
so we didn't get to say goodbye
no words, no hugs, nothing
and we're kept apart by people in uniforms and their silly rules
are we numbers on a paper
or are we people

#588 innies and outies

you think the world is built for you
then something happens
proves you are as important as naval lint
you are rolled between the world's fingers, flicked, forgotten
yet, you must go on
must search for meaning from your random landing place
and remove the random

#587 "And that man comes on the radio"

the sound of satisfaction
is the sound of a beer k'chih-ing open
after hard healthy labour
wiping my brow with a sweaty forearm
sun making even the beer sweat

#586 questions i can't ask

how are you now
how do you feel about your life
do you regret smoking it away
do you regret your angry teenage actions
do you know how they hurt those who looked up to you
do you feel the best years are to come
feel like calling me as much as i do you
ask the questions you can't ask

#585 blind love

i was 11
i told her about how kittens' eyes
stay closed for a week or two

the way she looked at me
respecting my intellect
like i was something

my feelings for her were confused
i knew they were wrong and scourged myself at night
alone beneath bedsheets

but still
the memory of her eyes
reminded me of kittens eyes in the third week

and i was blind to my innocence
as blind as a kitten

#584 me plus twenty

i'm trying to make amends with my 11 year-old self
but he's not speaking to me
hasn't said a word in years
can't even look me in the eye without disappointment
won't yell at me or kick me or call me names
just stares
disappointed and angry

#583 channel 88

popular voices seep into my ears from the screen
and i forget
forget what 10 year-old me demanded of adult me
forget my potential
forget my responsibility
as recipient of the gift called time
that i squander in front of the stars

#582 a lonely harmonica

a lonely sound like the harmonica
unites people in their loneliness
in barrooms and bedrooms
and the more loneliness the musician taps and shares
the more united the audience in loneliness
and when the last chord finishes pushing through air and ear canals
the loneliness felt, expressed
can be left until next time

#581 haiku haiku

first you start with 5
then find 7 syllables
last, you end with 5

#580 nature haiku

trees are you's and me's
also, they hold our answers
back-of-mind questions

#579 go time

i'm not ready
prepared is not in my vocabulary today
i feels like everyone else is here to succeed and to mock me
every giggle and stare is meant for me
i'm not ready
stop the world, i want to get off
stop

okay
let's do this

#578 garbage day

i am in the compacting section of a garbage truck
things once nice, and useful
are now offensive smelling junk
the light overhead shrinks as a wall closes in on me
making me one with the stuff the world cast aside
my screams cease
useless over the screech of metal and the slow crunch of trash

#577 memories with cousins

drinking from a creek in a push-up position
daring each other to test the electric fence
jumping from the bridge after blind man's bluff
nights out in the backyard, camper or tent
sneaking berries from the garden
or carrots with a delicious hint of dirt
spontaneous ball games
cards on rainy days, go-fish

#576 time

how do i have so much time now
i slowed down
i'm doing less
but getting more done
less hectic, more satisfaction
less to-do, more doing

#575 12-paned mirrors and mulligans

12 panes
12 pains
last night's choice reflected
12 times, the pain reflected
some people make bad choices
but the world lets them off
the etch-a-sketch of life and decisions is shaken clear
the i promise i'll never, is granted
this mirror tells me 12 times
i am not on that list this morning