Friday, 28 December 2012

At the 28th and the 9th

I once lived in Claremont,
At the 28 th and the 9th.
On 35 acres expropriated
By a Liberal majority
That could not defeat the grass roots
But for us it was paradise
a pond we swam
a garden we tended
a Great Dane and a Terrier,
Harley and Pom Pom

And we took in a homeless lady
Who later died of Lymphoma
She slept opposite a sheet
On a mattress
In front of the fire in winter
And with the French doors wide
In summer sweet nights
And a young girl adopted
after 5 homes
And a schizophrenic man
Who had a squirrel in his throat
And a niece like a daughter
Whose family were odd
And considered her the reason.

I had seen owls as
Small as a palm
And beavers that damned
Everything they could
And coyotes with night screams
That put notes on your skin
Geese and ducks
partridge and pheasant
and vultures that flew
like planes circling

I invited MacMain
from prison
And he fit right in
Caught brook trout
Crawling on his belly
With a line on a stick
And a worm on a hook
And he pulled up a dozen
muscled actions
of defiance.

The house was full
people dropping in
they had no where
To go
nowhere to be Loved
nowhere to be unlonely
 in those days
We were richly blessed.

Tuesday, 18 December 2012


Infinity is just behind you
in all it's terrifying aspects;
just behind your right shoulder.
I heard it last night,
a scream from another dimension
tearing down the empty street;
another me from another day
getting my attention again.
Stay the course! Stay the course,
my friend.

Monday, 10 December 2012

Ode to Oscar Wilde

Ode to Oscar Wilde

Christmas again
Family pain 
Seasonal funk
Think to get drunk
Not this year
Won't shed a tear
No not for you
Or the fatherless Jew
Born in a manger
Class rearranger
Who showed us the scars
He called
the wounds of love
But no,
that was Oscar's giant who saw the dove,
the child in the tree.
Oh yes, that's what
Wounded me,
The child in the tree.

Friday, 7 December 2012


Do you remember
the end of the millennium?
Sitting on a rocky hill
with snow edges watching
the mat of lights floating out
to the edge of the world,
and waiting for Toronto
who it seemed also
waited for darkness
to return.
Hoping that maybe
our innocence
would come with it.

Thursday, 6 December 2012

Mad Man

I'm rationing food like a Mormon
at home in my basement room.
Tin pails of flour, beans and rice
and water in plastic blue barrels.
I've got a good woodstove, airtight,
with skids piled up in the drive.
And cords and cords of hardwood
stacked neatly behind the barn,
against the day the power fails
and there's no time for getaways.
Ten propane tanks locked in the shed
and two new barbeques,
and kerosene lamps for every
room in the house.
But I am not sharing with you.
The many will perish,
the survivors are few
and I am just doing 
what I must do.

Wednesday, 5 December 2012


I must die
for he is gone.
He left some time ago,
but I never mourned,
but now I must
                                                          with                     no

My loss is so great an
I never held what I had
when I could
Now it's gone.
Pitiful human condition,
so blissfully ignorant
until the time comes
for you
                     to realize
                                               your loss.
Oh God.
Woe is me.

He was the best friend
I ever had.

But I guess I should thank him
for making me human

cause I don't think
I was.

Personal Apocalypse

Your wife kicks you out
and then he moves in.
You gather your stuff,
she said you beat her.
Now he has your tools
and your new truck.

And you can't get it back.

Your brain blows a fuse.
You can't make it work.
Thoughts run amok.
You find a replacement
it matches the amperes.
but things aren't the same.

And you can't get it back.

Your kid starts on drugs
and you hear that she's hooking.
You stop going downtown.
You want your old life.

But you can't get it back.

The booze makes it easy,
bourbon and scotch, then
vodka and pills. The job
it goes south and you
line up for pogy.
When it runs out
you line up for welfare.

You wish you could function,
but you can't.

And you meet someone
who gives you a chance.
Says come on with me,
and you pour out your story
to a room full of people/.
They all nod like they know you.

You'll give it a chance.

She says she likes you
and why not move in?
Her brother can give you a job.
Coffee smell in the morning,
the sun through a shade.
She calls you her darling.

You're glad you never gave up
on this life that you've made.

Tuesday, 4 December 2012

The Rapture

The moon turned to blood
and the stars disappeared;
they fell from the sky
after the floods,
and the food is too dear.
Then came the flies.
Parliament stood
and then shut down for a year.
The looters must die,
and where are the good?
Do you remember them here?
Did they leave without saying goodbye?
We once stood where they stood.
We feared what they feared.
But we laughed when they cried.
We forgot what we should
have remembered. 

Monday, 3 December 2012


I said,
I'm tired of being angry
all of the time.
I have been angry
for my whole life.

She said,
That's a good idea for
you could use some
focus and direction,
some self control.

I said,
If I lose my temper
(as in forsaking it)
and my raging thoughts,
I don't know who I'll become.

She said,
You should try it for fun.
You will undo a lot
and become most definitely
a universe dispelled, forgotten.

I said,
Maybe that's why I hang on.
There's always a foe if you look hard enough.

She said,
It's time to look for a friend.

Saturday, 1 December 2012


bird on a branch

Snail on a leaf
Flesh head slime
Shell and tentacles

Inside a big body
The lost boy of my youth
His dreams float elsewhere
Lost long ago

To reach those balloons
That came to rest in a field
Far far away.
It will be the last thing
He'll ever do.