#507 anxiety

he's here

he's in the house

i heard footsteps earlier, creaking the patio floorboards outside my bedroom window

he's in the house

the weather is blue and bright

the time is 11am

and i've been scourging my soul for three hours

for not stepping out of bed

in this world

there are no small things

the phone rang around 9

and the pump in my ribcage sang double time in a strange, disonant chord

i lie in bed

my lip tingles from being chewed

the tingling makes me chew more

a cycle with no end in sight

he's under my bed

#506 on joining the dark side

i am sliding in, jumping in

to the oldest contract in history

and like many other recent applicants

i feel fresh and excited about the prospect

the brilliance of the marketing gimmick that shines on her finger

is reflected in her face each time her eyes glimpse it

and i smile

because she smiles

and a one inch object, hollow in the middle

makes us feel full

i did not expect it to change us so much

but my cynicism admits defeat

i'm excited for our circles to join in food and drink and celebration

i'm excited to write her new last name

i'm excited for her to be my wife

and for me to be her man

#505 shovel blisters

an october day in july

perfect weather for yardwork

remembering my father

and i am darkened

how did he know everything

how did he work so hard

i mow and weed, and repair and build

then my watch tells me its hungry for a late lunch

in the bathroom i wash up

motivated by the type of sandwich

only hard work can build:

simple

unbeatable

while washing i notice my hands

darkened by oil and dirt

black arcs under nails

remembering my father

and i am brightened

#504 car crosses fatal median

his wife and kids went out for groceries

he'd stretched out in his favourite chair

excited for silence

no shouting, no questions, no chores

he opened the book he'd received months ago

two chapters later, he stopped

distracted by silence

he inserted a scrap of paper as a bookmark

a useless item on its own

that finds meaning from finding its proper place

does it miss the book while i'm reading, he mused

then he stood, stretched, walked to the window

and stared

down an empty drive

#503 asphalt and dandelion fluff

there are times, home alone, when you stare in a mirror

though no mirrors hang from nails anywhere in sight

you look so far inside the eyes of your reflection, your soul wets itself

so far that you risk forgetting the entrance

knowing all other exit doors will lock behind you

leaving you in alleys with forgotten weeds breaking through asphalt

places that never appear in marketing videos

and it won't matter if the alarm sounds

you'll be yelling in the alley until you realize

then you'll sleep in the alley on the asphalt

with dandelions gone to seed

the trip is risky but necessary

like reading your old journal

risky

because you'll see words you don't like

necessary

because you'll see words you don't like

#502 a flower in a vase on a coffee table

she stares at the square vase

sitting with her legs crossed

unfolds her hands

manipulated to be "Beautiful"

cut

stored in a fridge

paid for

wrapped

delivered

arranged in its vase on a coffee table

Beauty

manufactured for $29.95

she stares at the vase

like a man staring at a mirror, the first day of his mid-life crisis

sighs a mental sigh

refolds her hands on her lap

#501 a pessimist's optimistic toast

take risks

break some rules

use your manners

but take no shit

good people do bad things

bad things happen to good people

the world fascinates me but

what goes around doesn't always come

inspiration is 80% perspiration

81% frustration
100% mathematical nonsense 

so believe in yourself

like a salmon jumping up a waterfall

go against the stream

for maybe just maybe

you are what is forward

and the stream has had it it all wrong all along

live laugh and love

like the gift store trinkets instruct

and remember the fourth L-word

learn

learn that as beautiful as live laugh and love sound

they are even more

learn that pain and peace are inevitable by-products of living

learn that laughing feels best at the worst times

learn that love the word is overused and empty

learn that love the verb, the action, is underused
and full of learning and pain and peace and laughter

full

learn this

and disregard some of my words

and write your own

then

then my poem will be finished

#500 thoughts on #500

ceremonious occasions demand brilliance

but expectations of brilliance intimidate, overwhelm, stymy

i felt inspiration's rush
tempered by doubt, born of experience

i dared not imagine this day

yet the chore done, seems trivial

the bucket looked too big to fill

the first drops felt tiny, and soon i forgot to watch the waterline

the overflowing awoke me to accomplishment

#499 plastic tiaras and flashlight sabers

every girl wants to be a princess

and every boy wants to be a movie hero

so why are parents yelling at each other behind beautiful closed front-doors?

the girl and her tiara

the boy and his flashlight saber

where do they go?

and we're told this imperfect sphere keeps spinning

and we tell kids accepted lies

what goes around comes around and cheaters never prosper

because we all want to believe in plastic tiaras and flashlight sabers

#498 reversing the direction of a train

sunshine and a favourite trail

glacier lilies fill views

life-talks and and granola bar stops

pictures snapped and kilometers walked

steps taken

measured in time

steps taken

immeasurable steps

#497 the other side of "the extra few feet in my bed" (cowboy junkies)

staying up late, avoiding bedtime

i forget why separation was a good idea

slide into bed, exhausted but un-sleepy

the bed, huge and empty

not spooning, feels wrong

like interlocking my fingers left over right

alternating between studying the stucco ceiling and closing my eyes

i only remember the good times

your laugh

saturday morning sleep-ins

morning massages

morning arrives

some time in the night my brain fell asleep

or at least turned off

now, still exhausted

i face a day filled with distractions

#496 on a couch listening to mellow music

today, tuesday feels like sunday

and lids are sleepy for no good reason

the weather is quiet and says rain but doesn't deliver

bright grey heavy in the air

a day when to-do lists stagnate

and motivation atrophies

#495 bird-watching (attention robin)

a bird cheeps and chirps

outside the window

mocking me

for sitting at a desk in july

throat vibrates, chest colours shimmer and flash

she flies

up

and away

leaving my sight

and i think

bitch

and pick up my pen

#494 strike pianos, throw rocks

strike a piano key

in anger

in love

in protest

but don't do nothing, unless nothing is a conscious choice

throw a rock in the lake

out of rebellion

out of boredom

out of honour

but don't do nothing, unless nothing is a conscious choice

for then nothing is something, while unconscious nothing is inactivity

unintentional passivity

uneventful reactionism

unacceptable laziness

these are the nothings killing creativity

killing motivation

killing desire

killing humanity


so strike a piano key

in anger

in love

in protest

but don't do nothing, unless nothing is a conscious choice

#493 boys

when snow turns red

and eyes plead

from a head, dead

disgraced in the pick-up box

paraded up and down main

their sticks make them feel like men

proving to the world

they're only boys

#492 way leads onto way

take the stairs two at a time said she

and enjoy every one thought i but

how do i enjoy the price of an unchosen alternative

how do i appreciate frost's other road

how do i love the friend not made

fine for jc and teresa and mohandas

but what about me

how do i

#491 warm nights

mamie always said the best thing

for the garden, is warm nights

sure, sun and rain are needed

like smiles and tears

but if you don't like the person you are

when you crawl under the bedsheets

sun and rain don't matter

and daytime smiles and daytime tears

won't help a damn

#490 I don't know why

And i should have accompanied and made the walk

but i sat in my chair with Grief and Shock

And she faced alone

black female red on ceramic white

illuminated by hospital fluorescents

And something was born and something died

And something died and something was born

She emerged

pale

flush

Hello's and Goodbyes had been spoken in silence

Something grew from the composted sadness

Some product of conception on the other side of the door

And I fight to understand my misconceptions

The nurse's face, the other place

#489 "Society and me" (inspired by matthew barber)

like the violence on daddy's old tv

like our plastic island floating in your sea

i see sad and darkness between you and me

like your poet's poem unwritten and it's pen

like bottles smashed and mean words thrown again

i see no way for no happy end

like the prime-time scene your child wasn't meant to see

like my dog buried creekside, under mossy "t"

i see now how your face will stay with me

like oil-drenched bird stumbling at the shore of your sea

like the kids babysat and raised by tv

i can see we were never meant to be

i see it's time to stop, to stop the lie

to start, to start the cry

time to move, to move our try

i can see we were never meant to be

i can see we were never meant to be

#488 sitting under a tree and trading air with grass

old places exist on this earth

places that provide support, to sitters

places that speak answers, to listeners

places that breathe wisdom, into conscious breathers

old places exist on this earth

places where wise elders become neophytes

find a space that speaks, answers, respires
sit
listen
breathe

#487 the smell of paint

we painted the wall

and pretend everything was okay

but our hearts have no return policy for words

spoken or received

we struggle through the everyday

waiting for a day when our memory paints over the words

waiting to choose a colour dark enough

from the rows and rows of swatches

so bright and promising

in the light of the paint aisle

#486 just one drink

she pulls me in

against self-promises

lures me

i give in to a moment

give up on myself

and when the moment is fulfilled

i feel empty, again

#485 grey mailbox

i look at the mailbox

rusting

leaning

neglected

i really should fix that

the hinges squeak in effort as i open the box

flyer, bill, coupon

letter

from amy

amy

neglcted

i really should fix that

#484 latex gloves

depression grows like mold

thriving in dark damp forgotten places

hidden from view

then ugly to others

get rid of it

but are they willing to don gloves

to arm themselves with bleach

to scrub hands raw

to crawl in dark crawlspaces

that bring darker stories at night

when eyes fall closed

from the exhaustion of effort

no

they just want the problem fixed

so they can think

i told you

#483 control. alt. delete.

so cliche, so powerful

the present, the future, the past

words and actions and reactions

mine and others'

#482 Putting the laptop away

words

mock me

behind the cursor's curtain

call me names

Incompetent

Worthless

words

white on white

and i spend time and confidence

chiseling them

and they me

#481 trail therapy

i drained the tightness in my chest

into my runners

and they sprinkled it into the clay and gravel and asphalt trails

buried

now can the body and its partners

sleep

without hiding from dreams

#480 murder?

today, i witnessed a crow funeral

five stood

silent reflection

why

what does this mean to me

what happened

surrounding their still comrade

then

in one understood moment

they flew

leaving the organized pile of feathers

#479 we're the kings of the castle

the trail to here is challenging and beautiful

rocks, steep climbs, wash-outs

and things to hard for words

the view wouldn't mean as much if we drove

so here we are

we've tried to summit before

and the attempts have led us here

the cliche top of the mountain

many hiking boots walked before us

many will follow us

but none will share our view

#478 taxpayers' black bloc

thugs in black

hiding their faces

anonymity in numbers

and on the other side of the protest line

thugs in black

hiding their faces

anonymity in numbers

#477 pain is a real facade

give more, get more

give more, get more

pain is a real facade

a solitary game between acknowledging and ignoring

a challenge to live in the here and now, in another time another place

pain makes grief and marathons, blood relatives

teaches you when to open the box

and when to close, lock, and hide the box

pain is a contradiction

pain is a true lie to the self

pain is a mantra

give more, get more

#476 an explanation

a peaked roof and a shining light

indicate the warmth on the other side of the door

the love

but love can be scary

he's scared because love has meant pain every time

but fear is weakness

and weakness is not an option

so he pulls out his bandana and his attitude

ready to fend off love

to hurt from a place where he can't see pain caused

to hurt to avoid being hurt

#475

canada's most colourful month

and cottonwood fluff floats diagonal

on a weak wind, or a firm breeze

the clouds sit on blue nothingness

flat and shaded on the bottom

bright and fluffy on the top

like childhood cookies from the oven

remember the waiting

hands on oven handle like a streetcar handle

the one lightbulb a blur through translucent glass

and finally

just when your patience with time turns from annoyance to anger

Mom says they're ready

and I am ready for this season

snow and rain will be back

but not today

#474 and fruit flies like a banana

the clock tells me its time for you to stay and time for me to go

the clock says you and i are in different time zones

the clock says this time it's for good

which is too bad

but it's for the better

the second hand waves goodbye like an emotional frosh-week mother

the hour hand moves like a man at a funeral

and the second harmonizes with my heart

that use to be yours

#473

band-aids and prescriptions won't fix everything

but our world is overfull of them

everywhere i look

families and policies and structures

temporary adhesives and placebos

adorn every street corner and every window

but we don't see them

#472 kjhklgljhg

i stare at a teasing cursor

waiting for inspriration

play some music, listening for a poem

close my eyes, but doubt enters

then my fingers touch the keyboard

gobbledeeguk

but then it turns to words

then it turns to meaningful words

and i find inspiration and a poem

through action

#471 pillow talk

i lie down

i lie down

until his face twists

contorts

he rolls over

i roll over

back to back

his side, my side

silent tears roll off my face, sideways

but they leave a creek trail

in their search for cotton pillow case

and i lie, unaffected

but this leaves a trail

#470 grass stains

i stare at a blade of grass

so preoccupied with its own struggles

sun, rain, insects, disease

stare at its veiny structures

i imagine the blade of grass

in all four seasons

now, under blue sky

soon, entering autumn

sleeping through winter

yawning and stretching for spring

then i stand and look at the vast field

full of blades of grass

each living its own struggle

and i walk back home

#469 the DONE List: the new fad in personal satisfaction

i started my little list of "To-Do"

to help me achieve a thing or two

but the list grew, from a couple, to a few

and each "one more thing"

reminded me of something new

i filled the left and then the right

then flipped it over too

but still, my list grew

and grew and grew and grew

so that now i'm on scribbler number two

and you can see i'm stressed

by these fingernails i do chew

mow the backyard

(first scoop up the doggy-poo)

unclog the sink

of its gunk and goo

go to the store

so much to do

so much to do

and i throw it all in my big recycle bin

and i start a new list

and title it "Done"

and my nails relax and i have fun

#1 i got up to day

ahhh, relaxing

#2 i made a to-do list

#3 i threw out a to-do list

and on and on my list does grow

any sign of stopping? no

and i go back through days and weeks

and a pattern does grow

some of the same items appear as on my old list you know

put out the garbage

do the dishes

and

record my favourite show

then the real does start

beside each item i scribble a happy little check mark!

check

check

this is the life

who knew how much i'd accomplished?

now this is pleasure, this is liesure

this is a list that i do treasure

and i will not recycle this

instead i'll stamp and mail

for a magazine to publish

#468 morning reflections

i stumble from bed, don a clean-ish shirt

en route to the dryer to finish my outfit

i glimpse out my window

the mountain stares from flat grey light

naked from the waist down

clothed in fog from the waist up

am i looking at a flattering mirror or

is the mountain looking at its reflection

in some perverse fun-house mirror

#467 rattling along

three people co-exist in a subway car

rattling along underground

metal breaking silence

a mother

her sleeping toddler

and across the aisle, a woman, thirty-something

the toddler wakes, crying

the mother adjusts her shirt and bra

offers a pale breast

the woman's eyes fill with silent water

her hand moves to her flat stomach

caressing

#466 inside a tree

the heart is the part dead the longest

before anything visible

still serves purpose

and hides death beneath what is seen

as the rest grow so does the heart

and the death

#465 all hail

the rectangle sits on its throne

focal point of a successful living room

giving out moving pictures

sucking up family life

shiny and tasteless

new and artless

sleek and brain-sucking

#464 moveable chords

fingers slide up the neck

my ears love the sound

though they shouldn't

fingers slide back down for another chord

a soft screech

somehow acoustically pleasant

as real as the worn wood spaces

beneath the third and fifth frets

#463 heartwood

heartwood, as dead as childhood

but remains, providing shape for new growth

nothing but rot now,

the more rot, the more difficult and the less relevant birthday candles grow

heartwood, invisible to passersby and non-dissectors

and when the wind wins

when the top admits defeat in the quest to reach the source of heat

all will fall

the outside will catch up with the new

all will rot

and decompose

and re-compose

#462 dear grammy

did death whisper to you in your recliner

into your wrinkled hairy ear

or was it your god or an angel

or was it him that slipped out the porch, hat in hand

leaving the door open

maybe your legs just couldn't walk to the kitchen again

maybe your gnarly fingers were ready for the walk years before

but stayed to peel potatoes for the man by the washer

#461 centered name tag and other dangerous social doings

forget your name and introduce yourself

play drums and ride motorbike

watch the asphalt's dotted stripes pass by you

front to back

sell stories on a street corner

move to a hermit cabin and let the world come see you

one searching visitor at a time

make your jackknife your most valuable thing

then slap on your My Name is tag and laugh

at our world and its rules

#460 young thoughts

neil on the radio

i could sit in this chair all day

do nothing and

feel productive

lose myself in heavy bass and soft acoustic

in an almost whiny voice

and its ambiguous lyrics

he makes normal cool

out on the weekend and down by the river

singing of Her and She

and their impact

three ways of talking

voice and fingers and breath

i sit in this chair

as the night falls

on this setting sun

#459

grief hits like a second poem

unexpected

uninvited

in hindsight,

she banged on the door and demanded entrance

but at the time, we thought it was the wind

my friends Solitude, Denial, and Myself

#458 without warning/ punching this pregnant woman

the book's words echoed in my head

as you showed me the two-line sign from today's gods

Science, Medicine, and 24hour Drug Departments

the 4 inch booties grew heavy

but paul, i didn't get to speak to her for a last time

or a first time

and i don't think she can hear me

not aloud

not allowed

chords and lyrics and playlists

even weekly flyers

remind me

what almost was

and what might be again

and time does keep moving

no illusion

i have my fists

but for no use

who do i punch?

a fairy tale god?

a voice from an iPod?

this pregnant woman on the sidewalk?

#457 understanding cohen

i'm closer to understanding cohen

i've been the choir drunk

and moved to the second verse

my lyrics, open and cold

my voice, heartfelt and hopeless

i trade quantifiable quality and predictable popularity

for pot-scraped soul and life-tested reality

now i must place all my ribbons in a box

shovel rocky mountain dirt

wet with rain from above
wet with rain from within

and dog-paddle the moat to the castle

i've asked for too much and for not enough

i have tried, in my way, to make her feel free

now may she accept the castle key

now, now that i'm closer to understanding cohen

#456 daisies and lemons

daisies on the kitchen table

a fresh coat of bright paint

she shines life on his dreary

a fifteen minute tidy

a car wash

she gives newness to something old

fine dishes for a meal

lemon in the ice water

she adds occasion to the ordinary

#455 what's your normal?

a place

where mountains are not a cliche

but a to-do list item

where your skis are a status symbol

and your vehicle is a point of shame

unless it's a truck and your friends want a ride to a trail

where you lock your rotting bike shed

but not your front door

and did i mention that most bikes there cost more than most cars there

where the doctor and the waitress are hard to distinguish

a place where there's more consumers on the trail than in the stores

yeah, i'll take that place

#454 stronger than the grain

for now

only the pain of pressure of the vice

two pieces of wood sit

separated only by the hardening glue that will hold them together

but with time

the pain will soften and the bond will harden

the glue will be stronger than the grain

and if the new board

made of the two old boards

should break

it will not break at the joint

but one of the old boards will break

leaving a thing incomplete

broken

#453 people and small birds

i pished

swinging my head in ray charles figure 8's

waited

silence

pished

waited

curious chirping and peeping

what is that? they squeaked to each other

hopping further out on limbs

i wait, still

and they come closer and closer

unafraid

#452 from the almost-father

we were going to have a baby

a girl i think

maybe a boy

she reached the size of a thumbnail

try not to tell me it's a blessing

try not to tell me it's nature's way

i am grieving a perfect baby

not a defect

but don't be scared

say something

if you don't know what to say, try i don't know what to say

if you think i'm sad, i am

if you think i'm happy, assume i'm faking

flowers and food and cards and calls

they help

i don't know why or how

they help the pregnant belly that never bulged feel real

make my confused feelings seem legitimate

give me the memories i feel cheated out of

i know time heals all

that's why i'm holding on

just help me through this moment, this minute

it's not the unintentional dead baby jokes that hurt

it's the silent assumptions of normalcy

hugs and kind words help me feel

make it real

they tell me i'm not stupid for being sad

for still waking up and going to sleep

grieving for a baby i never met

the idea of that baby

the idealization of that baby

#451 positive

portaging between lakes

my world reduced

to the five meters of trail in front of me

i see plants on the side

then only rock, barren rock

and i'm glad there are both

but i envy the green

nothing to think of

but the thoughts i've avoided for months

the ultrasound, the doctor's wide silk tie

less than one percent chance

rock

rock

silk tie

more rock

then, a bank of rock

with pine seedling with a toehold on canadian shield

clinging

and reaching upward

#450 alone

there is dust on the spiderwebs in the corner

long forgotten

the broom exists under a pile of clutter

table bed and sink

all that is needed in this bachelor's life

table bed and sink

and a window

to watch through

waiting

#449 of justice and of babies

cheery flowers crowd the kitchen table

bright gifts for a dark occasion

the flowers stand, beautiful and dead

slurping last gulps from glass vases

topics of conversation for each new awkward visitor

-is that a yellow gerber?

-no, a sunflower

but among all the background greens

you'll find no baby's breath

none

#448 healing

gerber daisies and tin-foiled casseroles

together with hugs and time

conspire not to forget

but to forgive Fate

to move on

to enjoy life after tragedy

to store guilt in a dusty attic

for the alternative

is not moving on

a sinful option

so cry three good cries

then throw out the kleenex box

and step outdoors

#447 pinto

we return from hospitals and early loss

make sad phone calls instead of happy

tears erupt from unexpected causes

dead baby jokes, no problem

but baby carrots in the fridge, empty me

the pink book we curled up with together, two nights ago

now a black anvil cloud on the shelf above our bed

early losses make late lessons

though the bean did not break ground, we know the garden will

so we wait

exposing pain and grief by bits

#446 single track mind

Hyperventilation

two lines

one Castle

the right words

left unsaid

a happy knee scraped

no protective gear

no armour

#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