#1001 the injustice of miscarriage

the tears don't dry, they just float
into the air to join the others
my tears share the ocean with the tears of others
kings and slaves
my friends and my enemies
holocaust survivors and with hitler supporters
i thought grief was on the list, with death and taxes
but i've been proven wrong
twice

#1000 the kind of friend i love

is someone who knows where (or if) you keep your house key
someone who visits, without phoning ahead
someone who falls asleep at your party, without apologizing
someone who doesn't give you a beer, they lend it, 'cause they'll get one back their next visit

is someone who tells you about the chocolate in your teeth
someone who you can share silence with
someone who doesn't do drama
someone who knows the worst things about you, and loves them

#999 you're it

night and day play tag
killing time outdoors
while grief visits inside
they chase and dodge
in an even match
killing time
the gift
that life gives each of us
well
most of us

#998 a fair poem

fair is a joke
a steel-toe kick in the balls
a slobbery spit in the eye

fair is a 4-letter f-word
a joke against humanity
a mockery of justice

fair is a fairy tale
currency for enamel
chocolate from a deranged holy bunny

fuck fair
fuck daisies
fuck hope


after all
hope fucked us

#997 falling in powder

i'm okay
or
if i'm not
i know i will be

we took the risk
and the die rolled one roll too few
but we'll be back at the table
with our chips and our smiles

friends are like snow
the more you have
then the, bigger the risk
the, softer the landing

today is a powder day
and the landing still hurt, a lot
but had there been ice or rock
i might not be typing

we half-tease
no friends on a powder day
but my friends are a powder day
thanks for being there

i'm okay
or
if i'm not
i know i will be

#996 riveting

i think about youtube but watch 2 hours of TED instead
to ease the guilt on my conscience, about my soul being dead
two hours of staring at a screen, but now i can call my dirty sin
clean

waste my morning in 20 minute clips
might as well watch teenager strips

i was given Today but i waste it away
watch the neuroscientist with a brain on a tray, to make it okay

put my sin to words to make some powerful session
like i got a monopoly on the deep in depression
but the only way to get out of being down
is to rise up
not rise up, like on no eagle's wings or spaceship things
not rise up like an angel in shrouds or miracle up through the clouds
but to rise up
up off this @#& couch

#995 lobster dinner

free the worm from the hook
the ant from the sole of the workboot
the broken baby bird twitching on the sidewalk
and if you'll not save life, then save pain
a pinch
a scuff
a twist of the neck
why do little boys de-wing little flies
why do little girls exclude little girls
why do we boil lobster live

#994 armageddon

the noise
a whoomph and a crash
tell her the roof is falling in
tell her her world is falling apart
she panics
walks through the kitchen
into the bathroom
lays down, breaths heavy but shallow
her safe place

can someone please
tell my dog
it's just snow sliding off our metal roof 

#993 sticks and stones

words fly like gravel from a slap-shot
in a game of rural road hockey
and no one's usually hurt
but this time there is a silent moment
as the baseball-glove/makeshift trapper covers an eye
then leaks blood

the words were innocent insults
but now an organ is lost
a permanent scar gained

sticks and stones break bones that heal
but names change forever how we feel

#992 going for a walk

i know the dog needs to be put down
and though the thought of being the shooter makes me sick
so does the idea of not being the shooter
for with love comes knowledge and responsibility
i know her favourite walk that ends by her favourite tree
i am responsible to make the walk with her and with the rifle and the shovel
i know she will look at me and wag her tail
i know i will force myself to look at her and smile
the walk there will be the longest yet
as will the return

#991 on a quiet lawn in winter

onto one square of winter's white
a boy
and another boy
jump
landing in pure white with no evidence of how they arrived
they swing arms and legs
talking and laughing then
jump
hiding clues of any departure
leaving two angels to tell a love story
a story in which they can hold hands in the hallway

night arrives and with it, fresh snow
hiding the angels and their story
a winter dream

#990 under the bed

there are faces in the shadows
keeping children up at nights
faces in the corners and in the clothes and toys
friends in the day
strangers in the coming dark
and we are all afraid of the dark
but only the children have the courage to speak fear out loud

#989 the kitchen table

family is a kitchen table
family is a busy car
family is seemingly unimportant moments
   that grow in importance when they are gone
      turned to memory
family is shared experience
family is who you fight with and who you love

#988 toil and trouble

a heartbeat
give me a heartbeat
all i want is life
one life
c'mon god
c'mon doctor
give her a heartbeat
and make it last longer than mine

#987 first world problems (thanks fellas)

feeling annoyance when you run out of toilet paper
and have to reach the cupboard for a new roll

snapping from the frustration of searching the living room for the remote control
before watching sports highlights you've already watched, of games you watched last night

being too full from turkey dinner to enjoy pie
but eating it anyway, with ice-cream

paying so much for organic food
for your cat

searching your overfull fridge for chocolate syrup then giving up and eating your sundae anyway, while complaining about your unsuccessful search

#986 data corruption

we trust the weather report
more than we trust the view out our window
technology is a miracle
but the way we let it own us
      is a travesty
how can you believe your screen that says right now is raining
more than your window that shows you sun on a clear blue screen

#985 january morning run

five-fifty
running the people-free, snow-filled blocks
just me and the lab
a pace that would bring sweat in june

a feel a tug on the leash
we pull over, so she can pee
when i stop
the silence tells me how loud my sneakers had squeaked
on the white asphalt

we continue
one of us mesmerized by flakes falling through street-light cones of orange
the other, wagging a tail to celebrate the simple joy of being outdoors

#984 nacho toes

thanks
for not telling me to fix the squeaky cupboard
for always being in the mood to play
for always being in the mood to listen

thanks
for getting me outside when i don't know i need to
for making me get out of bed
for reminding me its suppertime

thanks
for never pointing out my failures
for showing wild excitement every time i return home
for being so excited for breakfast, even though it's always the same thing (brown kibble)

#983 pig-house

put the potato-peeler down carrie
he's waiting for you
and he keeps checking his empty pack, for one more cigarette
we both know that when he sees you enter
he won't jump or squeal in delight but
his heart will

turn out the lights carrie
say a final goodnight
walk a final walk up the stairs against your knees' will
let the laundry wait
what will he say when he sees you
or will he just smile, mischievous

the seventh inning was over an hour ago carrie
your blue jays won
pack your wrinkles and your memories
life's gifts to you
collie's waiting with his hat askew
collie refuses to enter
says he's waiting for you

put the potato-peeler down carrie

#982 365 times x

i tear the daily page from the calendar
wad it and throw it in the recycle bin
to feel better about my gross excesses

i line innocent necks up along the guillotine
but i make sure the guillotine is clean for them
so i can feel good about my job

i am the worst kind of apathetic
i am informed and educated
but action remains a childhood lie

#981 empty road (inspired by tune of "small of my heart")

this here driveway must be a mile long
and all the dj's seem to play all their lonely love songs
i stop and wait extra long before turning left onto the empty road
onto the empty road

well there must be a lucky eyelash in my eye
only explanation except my heart it wants to cry
and i ain't feelin lucky enough for a win, or even a tie
or even a tie

use my free hand, turn up the volume
trying to make it consume
but i'm decibels short and its saying max
its saying max

when you roam, do what the roamers do
wander until the ground it eats through your shoe
cause walking backwards won't take you back in time
won't take you back in time

this here driveway must be a mile long
and all the dj's seem to play all their lonely love songs
i stop and wait extra long before turning left onto the empty road
onto the empty road

#980 amber

though her name was amber
she made me want to go
to leave caution behind at the traffic light
everyone knew she was trouble waiting  to happen
but she was an adventure-magnet
and adventure-magnets pull people to them
like the food table in the first few minutes of a party

she showed me adventure
she left me with trouble
and i think of her
each time i gamble on an amber

#979 slam

gone is the day of ginsberg
and here
(though not to stay)
is today's new word
with the emotion of rap
without the bitches and hoes and that crap
the truth of the bible
without the thou art
though it be art
its characteristic token
that it loses something when not spoken
the moment of performance
"perform"
from the old french parfournir...
meaning, to accomplish
because the words are one ingredient
mixed with abstracts turned concrete like emotion and truth 
and mixed with timing and sharing and audience and response and adrenaline
and, as with all great new movements it will become locked
in rules and politics and ownership and one-upmanship
even now- stay under 180 seconds
but, as with all great new movements it will become something
even now- it changes me

#978 2-3x/day

i never
asked my girl to scrawl on little slips scraps of paper
i never
asked her to stuff them in the suggestion box that is my pumping heart
i never
asked her to see the best in me
i never

i never
but she did
like my grade 12 mathematics teacher, only on a bigger scale
my girl saw what i was capable of
saw that the person inside was bigger
than my body showed

i never
been so afraid of nothing
i mean
my girl rewrote my dictionary
omitted words like can't, like impossible, and phrases like, yeah maybe tomorrow
she turned days, into possibilities
gandhi's words about world change, into reality
and silence, into comfort

and me i
realizing that being good is hard but, being great is harder
and me i
afraid of failing her and me
and me i
walk through fear like an elephant who lived youth in the wild, walks through chains

and me i
still discovering the me that she see, when she see me
when i brush my teeth in the mirror
and me i
using that mental dental time to do what the me staring back be doing
we both be reflecting
on me
(and avoiding cavity)

#977 the poem

there is something inside my head
a something with heft
like a rock
but its not a rock
this something surges
like a roaring storm wave
but its not a wave
for it whispers
like a back-up vocals unheard until the hundredth listen
but its not lyrics
for it is more visceral than words
like gregorian chant
but it is not a prayer
for it is clear
as clear as a bluebird day
but it is not a bluebird day
for it is angry
angry like a panicked mother who just found her runaway son
but it is not a mother
for it does not love me and wants to separate itself from my head
like a tuft of hair from my barber's clippers
but it is not hair
for this something has heft

#976 the load

days drag on as weeks whiz by
spending hours a day at something i used to believe in
now i am what i used to loathe
what i used to not understand
imagine- being what you hate

how hard a task it is
    to find motivation
how slow the process
    as you stumble and crawl
the weight of your old expectations
still knotted to your back

#975 eugene mission cemetery

on some playground, somewhere
kids are gathered, talking and sharing
and outside the group are the loners, the excluded
dreaming of being invited, of belonging

in a garden of crosses, behind today's casino
young crosses gather, remembering and sharing
and outside the garden are the lonely spirits, the sinners
deserving of being invited, of belonging

#974 postcard to grandparents c/o heaven

do you have adjoining rooms in heaven
are you living life again
without sore knees and weak synaptic connections
without bills and stresses
is there a swing in the yard
do you sit there in happy silence
or do you laugh and recollect
and make new memories

things are good here
i'm hoping to see you
but doubt i'll get there for a while
everyone's pretty good
no big changes
miss you lots

#973 wagging at breakfast

if life is appreciation
then i have found life under an overpass in a cold rain
i have found life in a handwritten letter
and again in a straight line

if life is the miraculous
then i have found life in the comfort of good socks
i have found life in a child's mispronunciation
and again in the wag of a dog's tail at breakfast


if life is the inspirational
then i have found life in the night sky
i have found life in the random song from my radio
and again in my mother's new hobby

life is all this and more
life is all this
and less

#972 the walls at grandma's house

the house has a tired look about it
tired but content
happily resigned to their reality

the ceiling sags
the faded walls show no signs of wanting fresh colour
the walls are old and content
not wanting to delude themselves with the latest fashion
afraid fresh paint would hide happy memories
of simple times
plain and good

the walls miss the days filled
with sounds of kids (now with kids and walls of their own)
rushing to catch the school bus

but reality tempers nostalgia
the idea of going back to that time is exhausting
they did the work
now stand content
happy in their memories

#971 the man in the chair

the metal recliner faces away from me
a heavy voice comes clear from its sitter
belittling me, mocking me, challenging me
i've known the voice, and its sitter
since the days when my schoolwork lived on the fridge
still he sits
still he speaks

#970 the end of the song

a voice travels from inside the iPod
a voice drowned in emotion
sliding agony down my throat
in this different here and now
the instruments too
send me to a scary dark corner in my soul
but the song ends
while my day goes on

#969 old pendulum or new paradigm

remember the days when a computer filled a room
and computed less than today's calculator
and slower

will that be how we look at today's education system
will "personalized learning" make today's model obsolete
or is it yet another pendulum that will swing back soon
to learning by rote

i'm not sure what i think
or even what i hope
but i'm excited to see

#968 no one wins silver

bronze is won
while gold is lost

second best in the world
or best in your final game

win on a high note
or lose on a higher one

third place winner
or first place loser

losing gold hurts so much, even the Golds
want the Silvers to sulk in the locker room

bronze brings more high-fives than does silver
silver brings more slumped-shoulders than does bronze

every cloud may have a silver lining
but every silver medal has a cloudy lining

#967 massage, music, and life

hands
push
hard
then fingertips skim, light

chords
tighten
your soul
then enter the root chord, home

unhappiness
stress
self-uncertainty
then a smile returns you to a place of confidence

tension and release

#966 familiar fear

the familiar creeks and groans
of feet in the hallway
upstairs, above your head
comforting
except
tonight
you're home by yourself