#445 to the bump in your belly

heed guidelines and question rules

find a passion and nurture it

use a magnifying glass and a telescope

remember the one you're using and the one you're not

be kind to everyone

especially girls and women

save curses and you save their weight

same for raising your voice

question faith and authority

and answer for yourself

#444 night lake

a lake, forgotten in childhood

surfaces in Night's pillow world

demands the same feeling every visit

the fear of what lies below the surface

monsters that do not exist

still impact

as the forest lies across the lake

dark, inviting, unexplored

#443 dizzy and falling on grass

snow in july and january lightning

confusion fills mars' nearest neighbour

as we orbit and collide around and with our selves

we are forever nauseous from the spin

and the forever makes us unaware of our condition

how do we escape

star-spin at night with friends

and find our own center of gravity

reinvent our own pull

our own laws of nature

#442 handed down

it was the second thing he'd do
after work, monday to friday, 9 to 5
first, he'd set his lunchbox
then, second thing, scrub his hands
struggle to erase the black nails of manual labour

today
i set my lunchbag down after work
studied my hands
and embarrassment pumped from my heart
out to my soft hands

off-line for a week

#441 cheers to a child

that you find your thing

a thing you enjoy being part of

enjoy playing or doing or being

that you do your thing often enough to build skill

but not so much you lose your joy

that you know you are good at it

and you keep the joy and find that people will pay for the skill

but that you are giving enough

once in a while

to say No to money for your passion that you develop into a gift

and do for others and do for joy

and that you find someone who shares something for your joy

someone who has her or his own thing

and that you find happiness

alone and together
with the world and without

#440 the birdcage

i left the door open

on the bird's cage

all day

got home from work

and Sissy was on her perch

i was relieved

but more, angry

did she notice open door?

did she fly around and return?

was she happy when i closed the door?

and most of all

what would i do?

#439 noseprints

and her words to me might be ugly to you

like the translucent smudges on our front window

but i understand the source

i know they are from her watching for me to come home

words hurt

but so does joy

go feel bad for someone else

i am happy

#438 first impressions

the door is dented

and weathered and scratched by dog

the light is off

and the fixture cracked and dirty

the paint is chipped and the trim-boards are warped

#437 here's to asparagus borrowed

"borrowing" asparagus

asking how are you from back steps

and meaning it

exchanging tools and books and pleasantries

playing tag with red wine and with petsitting

you're it

now, surrounded by new doorsteps

where they wave and i wave

but i don't know names

there's "the-old-guy-with-the-pug" "the-weekend-musicians" and "the-purple-suburban-people"

but i miss borrowing asparagus

i miss my neighbour

#436 catholics on 4th and Hypocrisy

on a side street corner

sits a brick building

with a big small 't' on top

empty

save a few hours a week

when a man dressed in fancy pj's

professes about greed and helping the poor

#435 stars on black summer skies

in this blue carpet world

where the floor, rocks so well to the swell of the ocean

that a couple is lost in silent music

the room changes by day but by night

it is a room

a world

for two people

who will lose track of dates

because dates will turn to days

and

campfire smoke and tipi sleep-outs and cottage parties

will stretch into a life together
in this beautiful blue carpet world

#434 "we reach the shore"

the colour in my cotton candy

the life in my bleachers

the difference between standing

in the game

in the box

full count

and standing

alone

ball and bat

practising for a game that never comes

she puts a glove on my hand and leads me to the mound

from my safe places, dug out or daisy filled

#433 on habit

habit is the friend of comfort and the enemy of growth

the friend and the enemy of creativity

habit changes time

and changing habits changes people

changes neurons and muscles

actions and reactions

and they exist under every scalp

even the one who rebels habit

#432 Pretty Frickin Brave

breaking pine

fists hard as titanium

heart fragile as chicken egg

if her world only knew

how delicate

how precious

how loving

but she hides truth

behind fists and sarcasm and a quick offense

and they only see tough

only know tough

#431 quaecumque sunt vera

bulk wine in gold chalice

bought with my coins from collection basket

and if i don't believe it's the blood

of the quirky jew

bearded blue-eyed and white?

i'm denied at gate by The Rock

a fisherman with identity confusion

blessed be god forever

that our sacrifice may be acceptable

the work of human hands

for we sacrifice truth

#430 on our knees

two black eyes covered with two post-it notes

social billboard

and a man faces us in the elevator

and we strangers are joined in discomfort, unnerved

necks angled, joint attention pseudo-gaze at digital floor numbers ascending

and the crazy man ain't so crazy

he sees the bars that we love

we call the bars beautiful

he calls them ugly

stares us in the face

and we refuse to see

instead we do unspeakable things to our jailers

#429 the pioneer daze

there is an electronics company called Pioneer

does anyway else find that peculiar

they want to associate

with hard work and determination and quality workmanship

but they want to skip the in between

and we let them

look at brand names and slogans and jingles

what are they trying to fool you to believing

#428 don't look

the woodsplitter's appetite was almost full

the boy and his father had started after lunch

now, dusk left only about 10 candidates for slaughter

maybe eleven

the cracking and spitting of wood giving way

fought to be heard over the humming and coughing engine

the boy felt nothing

as the machine sliced his hand off

just a sense of fitting detachment

watching it drop to the bark and kindling-bits october ground

then the father saw

and he stopped

as the neurons sent the message

yes, you maimed your boy. decapitated.

then he switched off the motor

stopped again

and spoke

#427 patience comes to those who wait

warm ashes beat open flame

but the temptation

the temptation for speed and gratification

often trump old-fashion biddies

patience and determination

consistency and meticulousness

but the call of the open flame

has been the end of many a marshmallow

#426 searching

i climb down the rusted ladder

into the three-crock well

hoping for water

my feet hit concrete

all echo, no splash

i fight panic as a cobweb clings to my face

i brush the grossness with sleeve

sigh

relax

ascend the ladder to the light

and walk to the river

#425 the space between the trees

spring riding

my fingers twitch on brakes

i focus on the earth at the end of narrow logs and bridges

on the spaces between trees

sitting behind my seat

surrendering to gravity

testing gravity

challenging gravity

the near defeat on the uphill, forgotten

nothing but the trail in front of me now

the space between the lodgepoles

with a blanket of orange needles

with some tears

exposing jagged rock and slick roots

#424 a place of fear

as smoke and blood compete

i fight to suppress panic

eyes closed faith in the bearded professional

more blood and smoke

a digging through numb nerves to my center

a place, a fear

i have not met

speech and movement removed until they are useless

when he is done with me

i slide my jacket on

walk away

#423 "make a record of your sensations"

clusters of thoughts bounce and ricochet on and off my cranium's interior and i cannot put the thoughts together

like last night's poem written in my bed inside my head

i remember greatness, but the arrangement of the 26 letters
falls between synaptic clefts

like luigi off a cliff

just as the recording of a moment changes time

so too, does the failure to place a version of the moment on paper, or screen

to watch the blinking cursor
like sooty shoes in empty winter woods
leaving moments, as trails of black on white

#422 disposable thoughts

yellow squares,

adhesive memory aids

once trees

now disposable thoughts

a block sits by Bell's box

how did he do it

without post-it notes

#421 monster

monster is a silly word to adults and parents

but how many of us like to sleep alone

without a light, a tv, a pet, music

we shelter our kids

and we shelter ourselves

from the monstrosities of which our kids are capable

and it's funny that monsters live under the bed and in the closet

a child's first choices for refuge

#420 aptly numbered

if you can't say something nice

don't say anything at all

says every mother

and so i sat in my cloud on my couch

sat with my clouded friends, away from humanity

then i heard cleaver

on problems and solutions

and it all seemed so black-and-white

i got off the couch

out of the cloud

then discouragement hit

i realized every time i joined a solution

i added to a problem somewhere

gave up meat, put my neighbour out of work

turned off the light bulbs, found myself in the dark

#419 "on the street and the epitome of vague "

the last of the poets and the philosophers died

and no one knows when

and their last theory/system of faith disproven

Supply And Demand

for they're needed now more than ever

still they rot in wooden boxes beneath the surface

or maybe they hide

maybe they've gone underground

waiting for people to listen

maybe they hide in guitar strings and computer keys

hoping for hope

#418 composting and compiling

sorting the garbage form the reusable from the compost

cutting and sorting

connecting themes and linking words

trying and re-trying

grouping and discarding

until he is ready to walk away

to put them on display and to walk away

#417 pocket vibrations

i've not owned you

in two-thousand calendar squares

yet you haunt my iliac crest

my mind plays april fools in september

and i swear you're there

with change and keys, wrinkled receipts and purple lint

your battery is dead

you lie waste in a landfill

alive in my every day and my everyday

age is a ghost

a nomadic wanderer

hoarding memories along Eighty Year trail

guilt is a roommate

with laundry-and-circles-and-dishes

dwelling in a dwelling for things without end

#416 something's broken

i am one of paul's new inheritors

false certificate of birth

a brother calls on a phone

and i want to ask

do you feel the guilt

the guilt of clean fingernails

unknown credit card balances

of throwing out broken appliances

along with your aspirations of being handy

i am one of paul's new inheritors

overestimating my worth

#415 peace without the index

seaweed and diamonds and titanium mountains

step into the ring

the well-read corner

or the blue corner

weighing in

on questions of matter

and do they matter

a spliff-smoking pugilist

still searching

on map and by thumb and in car

for corners to a nation into which he fell

caught by a man in a white coat

#414 i have some bread to offer

what would he say

seeing his anatomy and the liquid that lub-dubs through

doled out once a week to well-dressed, head-bowing, chest-thumping sinners

cups made of Man's sixth most expensive metal

touched, honoured

disgusted, insulted

lord, god of all creation

i'm sorry

for what we've done to this big blue toy ball of yours

which you have given and human hands have maimed

mine included

#413 rearview mirror

the only thing worse than coming to in a racing, wailing ambulance

is coming to in a crawling, silent ambulance

i float above

see a sign over a night reflection

objects in mirror are closer than they appear

and i feel irony but its meaning haunts, unclear

family and friends, regrets and triumphs

flash-fade into the reflections background

drowning fast out of sight into a horizontal world

choices and moments

cookies and mashed potatoes

#412 poetry, like warm apple pie

the dough is rolled and spread

the tracks are pierced pricked

the oven pre-heated

the fork holes let out the pressure, the heat, the excess

release and escape

a way out

#411 "side by side in orbit"

an empty dock

beneath the light of a half full-moon

a young couple treads water full of romance

they climb on top of the wooden dock

extra meaning beneath their simple comments

down the beach, sparks shoot up from a bonfire

they swim back

and run forth

to the warmth of towels

in the chill of midnight

and fumble for their clothes

folded smooth on a fallen tree

#410 loss and freedom

his body laughs as it shakes

inside and out

beloved chains removed late in life

no longer restrained by the safety net

guilt is a friend now

constant companion

for freedom is a result of late night wishes finding fruition

but they are there

in the light switch and in the b'tato beeler