Thursday, 31 October 2013

Goodbye Night

Goodbye night
night adieu
adieu darkness
light is new

So long care
care dissolve
dissolve worry
emerge resolve

To walk away
away from the past
past leaving chains
chains never last

Journey alone
alone I travel
travel so far
far from the gavel

That passed sentence
sentence on me
me, I will go
go where I'm free

Light on my face
face to the wind
wind from the east
east to the friend

Friend, myself
myself, eternal
eternal the dawn
dawn not external

But internal
ever eternal

Wednesday, 30 October 2013


I am hatred
i burn like
acid corrosive
i am not a giant
but a worm
that eats through you
i hide inside booze
so lovely so banal
so loose you can channel
thoughts of yourself 
into me

You'e done
your finished
no out
i clout with
words said
they took years
to grow 
you can't pull free
you must uproot me
and that so carefully

Don't fear
i've got you
i will carry you
to your grave

Tuesday, 29 October 2013

Ceato (my dog)

I buried you here
under these trees
now drooping low
that I must bow
and so it should be
beccause to me
you were a dear friend
brought to an end
under the wheels
of a truck

You knew my soul
every thought told
on our long walks
when I would talk
you would run and
return again and
listen to a master
his life a disaster
but he was not
about to give up

I got the call
it was the fall
dark rainy night
just not right
your body so dead
blood from your head
i dug a hole here
blood sweat and tears
still I kept talking
how i'd miss walking
but the body was cold
there was no soul
and I ask
are you now here
with me

Monday, 28 October 2013

Byron Katie

Hey Katie!
Did you know
after listening to you
I have no teacher
I have no guru
Only four questions
I keep asking myself
The thing that I'm saying
What I'm telling myself

Is it true?
Are you certain?
How do you feel
when you believe this thought?
How would you feel if this thought were not true?

A liberated self
A spirit who flies
A voice from the heavens
A joy that inspires
A person unhinged
In love every moment

That's who I'd be
A person so free.

Sunday, 27 October 2013


I shouldn't have kissed you.
By the shock in your face,
by the smile in your glow.
I shouldn't have
but he drove down
the flooded road
in the violent dark night
and we pushed ourselves,
up to our waists in lake
that had risen and spread
and we were elated.
I was Goliath and you my David.
But I shouldn't have done it,
because after that, we could not admit it,
we could not forget,
we could not be friends.

Dear Friend

It appears that I have arrived
at the place where I do not judge
anyone, anymore.

I have been blessed with a stable
mind and temperament,
at least enough to see
that everyone has a reason
for what they do.

And so do I:
I do not want to be unhappy
with anyone or anything

You might respond,
"that is impossible
that any person could accomplish
such a thing."

I would agree and
that is my point.
I am no longer the person
you once knew.

Not to say that person is gone.
I still meet him occasionally.
I treat him with the same respect
and humility as anyone.

But unfortunately, my time
is limited and to indulge
his crazy notions is not
something I wish to do.

My Muse

You came after my heart was rent.
You found me once I am content.

As a seeker must find his match,
and maudlin humor needs a catch,.
A general will need a sash,
and a druggy needs a stash.
A door will need a latch
and a cow will need a patch.

You found my message sent,
My muse, you , my ascent.

Saturday, 26 October 2013


You are the fall,
the season of transitioning.
When Dad passed
you called up snow
and waited for spring
to awaken desire.

You serve the poor.
You comfort the widows
who like yourself
are survivors and champions,
toughest on earth
but still you walk softly.

You learned to allow
what life must take
for it all to have meaning.
You learned to trust God
and certainly, most of all
you know to accept mercy.

Friday, 25 October 2013

Special Day

Your Mommy came and her friend,
and between them two Great Danes,
that jumped and played in water sprayed
from the hose on that hot summer day.

And the ladies came from the barn
who knew the story, they came for you,
bringing bags of cars and games.
Watching quietly your joy so fragile.

And the neighbor came who you knew
from asking candy at the store.
She brought water balloons we threw
but they wouldn't break, try as we might.

And the mess was great and it was late
when everyone left, I fell in your pool,
and you settled on me, your back relaxed
released the tension of your fourth birthday.

Thursday, 24 October 2013

An Eight Year Old Fishing

out of the water
with spray in the light
quick muscled fight

rainbow hue fresh
from the deep cool
caught before school

smell of the creek flow
earthy and greening
pooling then freeing

into the rapids
joyfully flowing
as if knowing

I become naked
put the fish back
become what I lack

and dive in to join him

Wednesday, 23 October 2013

Everything's An Equation

The water that fills the marsh
equates to the sun's angle relative
to the tilt of the earth's axis
and the thickness of my blood in fall.

The anger that fills my blood
equates to the perceptions
resulting from the pain inflicted
now buried in folds of love.

The yogi meditates and
sees all things as vibration,
components that match, this and that,
random yes, but it all adds up.

Forgiveness is an equation
on a divine blackboard chalked
with how this and that equals nil.
So get over it now, will ya!

Tuesday, 22 October 2013

Let Your Heart

Let your heart
melt within you
Have it pool
molten yellow
Drawn up arteries
that flow no more
filled with tree roots
branching veins
You become
but a bough
the great tree
Hey now Look now
You're me

A Mere Boy

If it were not for reflections,
I would never know my looks,
for looking out my eyes
I never see my face.
Even looking down I only
know my arms, chest and shoes
and the front of my legs.
I am very fast and can run,
like a ghost, even my mom
cannot catch me if I choose
to run.

I can climb this wire fence
and I will when they
are not looking. I will
climb and I will run
very fast like a ghost.
They will not catch me

Monday, 21 October 2013

Seventeen Sylables

I guess, you would have been born into this mess anyway. I am here.

Sunday, 20 October 2013

Sweep For Me

I need you to sweep, darling
under the edges and
behind the fridge,
at the top of the stairs,
seeking out bevels
and crannies and nooks.
Find the dust hidden
only you can remove.
Gather it into a pile.
Then the boot droppings
and around the cat litter
(that damned dirty cat).
Under the counter,
just by the sink
where she chops veggies
they like to eat.
broccoli, lettuce cucumber.
Sweep it up and
use me baby, use me
like you want me
for I live to be
held on the floor,
for your bristles to 
touch me there, right there.

Saturday, 19 October 2013


What makes a human?
Have you considered
how complex a question
I have delivered?

It is a dilemma,
all your happenings,
choices and dramas,
ambiguous endings.

From decades ago,
unfolding now,.
like an embargo
against what you know.

Don't deny marvel,
when you observe
how a blind will
 has tested your nerve.

To stay true,
not give in,
become you
all over again.

Friday, 18 October 2013

You Know

You know how it feels,
that space below your neck
and between your shoulder blades,
the creeps and shivers,
when you're being yourself,
when you get excited
and show it out loud.
How it was received
before you could stop it,
before you could stuff
it back in,
so it wouldn't show
like it does now.

Thursday, 17 October 2013


She played a game with Quija board
thought some sad spirit might

Reach through and talk.
Reach through and talk.

Her hand was guided silently
to spell out letters of the name

Ellen in March
Ellen in March

A message too mysterious
she asked a little more

The month of my death.
The month of my death.

Her mommy stormed into the room
snatched the board away.

Where'd you get this?
Where'd you get this?

From my cousin Katie mom.
She said you not to tell.

She said you  would get mad.
She said you would get mad.

There's devilry in these here boards,
there's devilry in these.

Leave it alone.
Leave it alone.

But Ellen came into her dreams,
yes Ellen came to say,

I want to be you.
I want to be you.

Wednesday, 16 October 2013

Out of the Stone

The stone, with sharp crust
biting my hands.
Lifting it made me
think of you.

for taking me canoeing
on the Black River,
the day after dad's funeral.

I cut my knee
and blood spilled freely.
We kept paddling downstream,
had to walk back to the truck
(or you did).

I stayed and swam
under the bridge.
October warm days,
water out of the rock.

Tuesday, 15 October 2013

I Could Cry

An eighty two year old stabbed
his wife who was ten years younger.
It could have been funny
except that he killed her.

They had Spanish names and lived
in a neighborhood that used to be
cornfields and barns but now is
jam-packed with houses that
all look the same.

And I think the whole family lives there,
their kids and their kids
which makes it more tragic
than we can bear to think.

It's obvious grandpa was nuts,
losing his mind and he always yelled
at grandma but no one thought
anything like this could ever happen.

Oh my God, I could cry.

Monday, 14 October 2013

In The Silence.

In the silence I behold
my thoughts
coming and going
kaleidoscope of colours
dancing and spinning
They are just existing
on their own and I perceive
that they make me
and not I them
They are like currents in a river
that I chose to swim
and seeing it that way
I still like to swim.

Sunday, 13 October 2013

Options on becoming a being (or a whole lotta J's)

Be a Jerboa
have strong muscled legs
and jump really quick

Be a Jackal
snickering terror
sly fevered teeth

Be Jehovistic
conjuring plaques
portents of wrath

Create jaundiced justice
like Janus who japed
while Sandy swamped
New Jersey shores.

Saturday, 12 October 2013

The Shadow

How you treat others
is how you love yourself.

But your shadow,
he knows the truth.

Standing dimly to the right
or left or behind,
sometimes covering where you walk.

You tend to meet him in your dreams,
where you run about in hiding.

But his desire is never to catch you,
because he is you he knows

you never meant to hurt anyone;
you just hated yourself.

Friday, 11 October 2013

For Aranka

Schwish Schwish
Mmwhine Mmwhine
the sound of the wipers
me and my baby
driving in rain
soaking the roads
splashing up hard

We drive this road
each week every year
in the heat and the snow
in the rain and the fog
steering our lives
through dangerous corners
risking for love.

And we talk and we laugh
we shout and we cry
but we never regret
having got in this car
to drive on forever
mapping our route
to the bright morning star

Thursday, 10 October 2013

The Journey/The Awakening

The Journey
By Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.

by Me

Have you ever stopped
when the moon is brilliant
either full or half
quarter or crescent
and the sky is clear
and never ending.
Did you realize then
that this same moon
and this same sky
have always been with you?
And you have returned
subconsciously to them
again and again and again?
But today is an awakening
that you have always been here
in one way or another
year after year
millennium after millennium
and that your awakening
has always come
and it always will.

Wednesday, 9 October 2013

The New Beginning

I want to touch you
Reach into your night
Drink of the stillness
You harbour inside

I want to bewitch you
With deep tender voice
Make you forgetful 
Of everything else

No more of the lies 
We once believed
Held us together
Gave us our ease

We crossed the bridge
And then we burned
We are transparent 
Now that we're here 

Gladness abounds
Just look around
But for us dear
It must be a choice

Tuesday, 8 October 2013

Love is Like

Love is like
open heart surgery;
learning to trust your doctor.
Let him cut your breastbone
and open you down the center,
exposing the innermost sanctum:
The holy of holy's,
where only a high priest can enter,
once a year with a rope round his leg
to pull him out fast
in case your wrath is aroused.

Love is like walking on coals
in soft tender soles
more used to loafers or slippers.
And after that glass
with shards turned up to hurt you.

Love is like finding out
that none of those tests were worthy
of who you are or who you've become.

Love is like walking out
and finding that doubt
is actually a very nice feeling,
and you can learn to live there
with less and less care.
Love is when
you lay down your burden.

Monday, 7 October 2013

The Old Place

I park the car, walk back,
the house gone, torn down.
Trees are bare but
for a few flitting leaves.
The yard a carpet
of coloured fall compost
I can picture us there,
you, me and her
and the dogs always barking
out on the road.

Your mom's house still stands.
Tom and Ali's is gone.
The pastures grown in
with cedars and brambles.
Spook out a buck and two doe's
on my way to the pond
which is black and reflecting
the bare trees reaching
into the sky.

Down where the creek runs
cold in the shadows
I pick up a puffball,
feel the soft mellow texture,
smell the decay as
the earth claims itself.
Cedars are bare, more trees
than there's room for;
old twisted trunks,
cross my eyes to see through.
A coyote is watching like
he's wondering who
the hell I am.

I find the old pine,
three feet across.
No worse than it was
with large branch limbs broken,
rotted sockets like shoulders
that have bore too much weight
for too long.

Sunday, 6 October 2013


Warnings of danger
stir in me, my gut,
where joy often tickles,
where fear also flutters.

My horse hears a noise,
tense shoulders, neck bulging,
head lifts and ears perk.
Intently looking for something
to flee, I prepare.

Half Clyde, slow blooded.
Half racehorse, small brained,
big hearted pumping,
muscles lubed with quick blood.

She loves to be scared, 
fear and flight is her nature,
to run like an asshole,
huge clomping gallops,
turf and mud flinging.

And when I feel that blood rising
 I get some

Saturday, 5 October 2013

I Am

I Am                                   I am                              I am
Tell them                             waiting                          sitting
I Am                                   for your                         breathing
sent you                              return,                           stilling
into                                     so long                          my mind
this life.                               have I
                                          missed you.                  I am
I am                                                                       so tired
in love                                I am                             let me
with you                            sleeping                        sleep on
she said                             dreaming                      into                  
driving                               and there                      the dawn.
her van.                             you are.

I am                                  I am
like you                             letting
Grumpa                            the rain
he said                              fall on
taking                               my face
my hand.
                                        I am
I am                                 wading
grateful                             water
today                               and mud
for all                               up  to
you say.                           my knees.

Friday, 4 October 2013

Miley vs Sinead


I am pumped
Strut the stuff
Hands are stretching
to touch
Hot and stooked
Youth is fast
Cranked to the limit
My hot blood
My hot blood
Out of my way you old bitch


I took back myself
to answer
Spoke with the girl
who was me long ago
Held her inside
Honoured the sacred
Saw it in me
Saw it in her
Allowed our pain
Allowed our shame
And offered the gentlest warnings

Miley:  I ride this train of my success
Sinead: To destruction
Miley: I am on top of my game, loving this fame.
Sinead: Pimping your doom.
Miley: My life to live
Sinead: I've lived some of that also and
            what you live comes back to live you.
            And that won't be so gentle
            as this sincere warning.

Thursday, 3 October 2013

So you think you can tell (loaned Wish You Were Here from Gilmour and Waters)

So, you think you can tell
                                                             A dark hole had opened in the center of myself
heaven from hell
                                                             Drugs only gave it expanse
blue skies from pain
                                                            Taking all the decency out of my life
can you tell a green field
                                                            I eventually gave in
from a cold steel rail
                                                            Spores of decay settled in
a smile from a veil
                                                            My hair grew long and I stayed out all nights
do you think you can tell
                                                            My friends were like me no aim no purpose
did they get you to trade
                                                            My parents who loved drifted onto dark paths
your heroes for ghosts
                                                            Lost in arguments and blame
hot ashes for trees
                                                            I fell to sleeping 12 hours a day
hot air for a cool breeze
                                                            waking to seek oblivion
cold comfort for change
                                                            lsd vodka blackouts and fear

did you exchange a walk on part in the war

                                                            once a good hockey player getting good grades
for a lead role in a cage
                                                            I broke down and fell off the plank
how I wish
                                                            but then one night a mescaline voice said   go home
                                                            i did   and sat with dad
                                                            told him this story he listened
how I wish you were here
                                                            a new thing began to grow a hope

we're just two large souls swimming in a fish bowl

                                                            it wasn't long after   I met her
year after year

                                                           and I wrote her a poem about lily pad flowers and love                                                      
running over the same old ground
                                                          my dad who had sat and listened through his own
have we found the same old fears

                                                          has been gone for ten long years
wish you were here

Wednesday, 2 October 2013


In her eyes
In her hair falling
about the bare shoulders

In his hands on the keys
In the scotch on the rocks

In their arms long and elegant
releasing doves to the sky

In the fat man's face
where joy builds
into a sweat

Don Juan on his horseback
In the copper skied dusk

In each artist's mind
As each image is born

Tuesday, 1 October 2013

Fall in my backyard.

I was out with the Autumn.
The pear trees were breaking
their long flexing limbs
with the weight of their fruit.
I was raking the grounders
to cut the lawn one last time.
This year was so wet
each cut took a raking.
Now it's the pears sweet stink
with the air moisture laden.

I hear sounds like small bombs,
like fireworks muffled in fog
and the geese circling and honking
against the grey cloud, disturbed
that landings at dusk are delayed
until darkness has settled
and shotguns have ceased.

I rake into night,
get a beer from the fridge,
pull up a lawn chair to celebrate
the mosquito's demise.
The geese find their place
at home in the marsh.
I am alone and content
with the season's advent.,