Time Off

I'm on holiday now until January 5th. Now the muse can let go her words.

Long Since

Long since the world was
a young girl in a long blue gown;

now harsh and peevish fingers thrust
out at her mind.

Then beat it to death by balloons.
Slowly, courageously spent,

the girl regains her former grace;
rebirth brings its own reward.

[© 1998]


Along the Shores of Georgian Bay, Ontario

The wind that blows
and the snow it throws
carve glyphs

in the cold rock scree.
Imprisoned they are
for millions of years

relaying their tales
of sleet and rain and hail.
Only a select few tilting

fir soldiers remain
on duty watch, till
the next barrage commences.

[© 1998]



Clear Night - Wolves

Still
abstract.
Dark pack, canis lupus,
screened by slender strokes of twenty
feeble saplings, show no fear, but look at
you
directly,
sense presence, but cannot make you out,
show respect to an equal member.
Now they know,

they melt away.

[© 2000]

Unknown Experiences

They say write what you know. Ha!

I say write what turns you on, what stretches your existence, what ruffles your mother's feathers. Write to expand you.


(You want a) Divorce

I grab your wrist
under never-ending dinosaur-movie skies.
I can’t take my eyes off of you.

Dancing in the dark of
crisp November nights,
hidden from others by pine cones,
I slap your face.
You want to end it.
It’s not your money I want,
it’s you.

As raindrops drown my heart,
your tears blend in and
I break down,
consummated in
pain.

[©1999]

Fridays are made for posting

It's Friday. I was busy this week. The world went by and missed many things.

Sometimes when I write I'm someone else. Sometimes a different sex, sometimes a different colour, sometimes a different species. Sometimes I'm just me.


Brothers on Lennox

Jazz ­─
smells of fresh-brewed tar
amid the sirens
after the thirty-fifth gunshot heard
by never-virgin ears (baby, I wish for
you a better home); shutters only
shut out white light truths.
Sweat peels off my black skin, around
the comer of a black past saving,
even Louis finds a fly a crunchy
meal (too hot for squab this week).
The hand-me-down trails ends here. Mama
wishes for a new bonnet for Julie
instead of beans and franks. An empty pot,
filled with yesterday's invisible desires,
beckons a cook holding tomorrow's
breakfast,
lunch and
dinner
in the palm of her
delicate, but deternined
hand.

Colour­ ─
holds the package for the man
with two gold teeth
and a Tweety and Sylvester lie
(pass the brown bag on its way, my brother)
until he seems amused by
only twenty youths in
toques, not scarves, surrounding
ibis week's prize ─ Call the fuzz,
regret the dime ─ Pay for another
can ofbeer for Mama instead. Julie's
bonnet covers up the blood (three
shots back) and reassures those
checking up from social services.

A home (four walls,
a ceiling and a floor)
refuses shelter, though
as poor, the rights are
filled.

[©1999]

Weekends are made for wasting

It's another beautiful sunny day in September. Weather affects different people you in different ways. Both inside and out. So does geography. In subtle ways that you don't realize until you're confronted with something out of the ordinary.

Who says I am not coloured?
for Maya

And this day too will pass
onto a blackened nightfall;
I see you from the inside out.
The skin to a cover only (not a brick wall;
not a locked door; not a
sentence of death) to keep the weather
from the heart and lungs.

Do you see me crawl?
I do not call for help
from any of you back-boys.
Must you shout the truth about
our destiny? Is it not yours also?

The mask you wear reflects the light
of all returning souls. It is the
brightness of our lives that gives
the heaven fruit. Not the
pigment of our skins.

I am as black
as white will
closet you.

[©1999]

Waste

Taking days off means I think too much. I return to reality. Here is not reality. Here the muse takes over and she speaks through me, forthright and bare, non-PC and scary.

Heather was a "sort-of" relative. But by blood, but my circumstance. She was never "right" as far as I knew. Others may have believed it, but I think they were just hoping for the best.

Take a life that’s your own
for Heather, only she knows why

I call out, but no one is listening
respectively,
so I kick over the chair.

I write a note, but it is read
mistakenly,
so you do not understand.

I grab for life to save me from falling;
decomposing,
it slips from my hand.

I wait alone for my redemption;
assuredly,
God calls my name.

[©1999]

Thursday on short week is heavenly!

I love 4 day weeks. More time for frivolity.

Sadistic Killers

Bats
and red velvet
chase June through October;
mysteries abound as
unlikely strangers meet
in between knife
edges. The eyes
entwined, (our) legs
encased in frozen blood;
surface tension
exudes through pores and
troughs,
throughout sonar echoes lost
on moistened corpses.
A dress your mother wouldn’t
be caught live in sits
upright; makeup stains
blank faces;
icicles refuse to melt
into view;
focus to know
the whereabouts
of death.
flap flap flap
Knife die,
victim live.

[© 1998]

Before to Speak than be Silent

I realized lately that things must be written to be perceived as worthy, so I'm back online.

Tea Ceremony

Ray and I
forgot the red linen tablecloth;
instead we used a pink and blue one
my mother had given us
when we moved in
together. His mother did not know
until, by accident,
his sister mentioned lunch, two weeks before,
and out of the bag it leapt.
She’s come
to tea to check out me, to see
if I can hit the mark.
(Ray say not to worry,
but I will, for he is proud
and wants his mother’s blessing even tough
he’s broken her most sacred law.)
Her standards will be higher
than the North Shore mountains.
If I don’t pass her tests,
life will go on
just as before,
but over time
the tea cup
will
slip
and be
brok-
en.

[©1999]

Never Surrender

It's been more than one year since I posted anything. It's time to return to the fold.

Northern Green Haiku

Many die too fast
to please religious soldiers;
six poppies live free.

[©2000]