View Issue vol. 7, no. 8
ISSN 2369-6516 (Print)
ISSN 2369-6524 (Online)
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Sunday afternoons, I found you
over broccoli, hands racing over keys.
Do you play for grass and air in
Light and energy in
Fields and sky in
Rain and earth in
Or for your own petit choux
in the stroller next to you?
I went outside today; once.
It was once too much.
I didn’t like what I saw.
Then, tucked safely inside,
I could hear the whirl of the world,
And it set me to wonder what I did not see…
The chickadee peeks
From underneath his low little cap
Tucks in his chin;
Tutting at the cracks in the sidewalk
He trips along
And wonders how
He ended up on the rough side of town
thinking I knew you old friend
timid and flighty
maintaining your distance
small but constant in your attentions
in the neighbourhood
always with your flying friends
Chickadees and Titmice
who knew you were a nimrod?
stealthy as any cat
wearing your monochrome mask
ready as a raptor
watching you toy
with a spider in his gossamer net
suspended above my window
first I thought you a Humming bird
but the colour was wrong
then a Dragonfly, no too big
like a Harrier Jump Jet
six times you played the spider on his web
at Snakes and Ladders
then with your left wing
you deftly severed his thread
pouncing you sealed his fate
deadly as any Faerie Hunter
There’s an urgency,
these fall days.
Pure blue skies.
The thinning of trees.
Auburn leaves rattling,
drifting to the ground.
A gentle dance.
one leaf at a time.
I watched her
Each day new hairs
on her pillow.
The fading of her skin,
Lupines, lilies and flocks flaunt their hues
Sun scorched softwoods sing summer blues
Monet’s line the gravel, and paved roads I pass
Kaleidoscope visions, reflected in glass
An early morning drive that curves into day
as darkness fades gently into melons and gray
Then pastoral commute turns urban concrete
winding its way through the city’s heartbeat
A montage of graffiti over industrial gray
reminiscent of much older and younger days
These sights are the threads of my tapestry throw
Common visions that are a part of all that I know
Both basic and beautiful in their contrasting way
Each one calls my name at the end of the day
we both say the things that philosophers like
thought provoking conversation
we see what’s wrong and agree what’s right
our logic’s hard-core clean
you play Giuoco Piano with your white e4
instead I dance the black Sicilian
the metronome won’t synchronize ‘cuz
our duet’s so obscene
……………..let’s get metaphysical
……………..let me bend your mind & thoughts,
……………………………………your mind & thoughts
……………..then you can twist my brain in knots
I’ve been patient, so far so good
‘cuz my brain n’ hands can be unstable
it’s hard to tell when I’m gonna attack
don’t want to cause a scene
realities frame our points of view
and states of mentalities
from Kafka’s couch, we can Twist and Shout
or just Let it Be
……………..chorus – repeat
Whoever made this earth
Broke its pieces apart
Like a finished puzzle.
A Pangaea scattered
In castle ruins across the planet,
Dividing oceans and people.
Just enough proof
Of an ancient geographical union
To leave wonder and hypothesis.
Were we the World Ash Tree?
Once indistinguishably connected?
We trace the mystery
In our own divisions of land.
road, dust, valley, forest
Cut into squares, circles,
Nonsensically jagged lines.
Imitators of a pseudo-creator –
Forcing the earth further apart,
All the while wishing on stars
Ice cream, sugar, honey, nectar,
Touch, caress, lips, kiss.
Buttermilk, lemon, sauerkraut, vinegar,
Tension, retreat, distance, loss.
Coffee, horehound, wormwood, bile,
Impatience, stress, mordancy, schism.
Brackish, briny, purge, catharsis,
Sweat, tears, blood, absolution.
Savoury, ginger, pepper, spice,
Stroke, shiver, grasp, ecstasy.
It’s the ache, the crave for something
that you can’t have.
The memories and feelings of a life
that seems so hard to
imagine that you’ve lived.
There’s a clawing at the back of my head,
yearning for an existence that has already
been lived demolished.
The pieces cannot be put back together,
the tattered remains of a world when
things were so fragile will not –
Echoing screams that bounce in
and around your skull –
they speak differently; things
haven’t really changed,
from the way they were before.
There is a comfort in wallowing,
in dirt and the bottom of a glass that
holds all disgraceful memories; they
should be devoured by a vicious tongue.
We wrote our future in the spines of books,
It was messy and chaotic,
But we loved how it looked.
Like torn out pages,
And notes written in the nooks,
Like our fingers intertwined
And every time we got a little too hooked.
We danced any chance we got,
All sprawling limbs and wide grins.
We promised every time,
that this wouldn’t be our last shot.
We wrote our futures in the window frames,
It was temporary, and naive,
We only had ourselves to blame.
When it went up in flames,
We searched the wreckage,
All I had was burns and watery eyes,
All you had was a smile, a mile wide.
A ship and crew setting for sail
aboard they go with force to prevail
Riding the waves be a sailor’s road
broader than depth at times rising bold
Service or voyage both have a trade
where duty calls thou maketh the grade
By command over sea reaching their aim
survival is made in honor of name
Joy filled relief true blessing in hand
seeing sight of lights aglow from land
I plant seeds of knowledge in my greenhouse
And I water them every day
With the words of Whitman, Goethe and Byron.
I water them every day
with the philosophies of
Freud, Rogers, Nietzsche.
I watch as my seeds of knowledge sprout,
And continue to grow
as I water them every day
With the images of…
With the histories of…
With the philosophies of…
With the developments of…
Until I find,
These seeds of knowledge have bloomed
into my own.
In my greenhouse these are my own words,
My own philosophies,
And in my greenhouse there I am,
A spring in every winter
Actualizing under the hot rays of the sun.
Stretching, growing higher and higher,
Wheat, water, salt, yeast
Knead, rest all day, live, grow, breathe,
Bake, eat when life ceased.
I see you everywhere
When I catch up
Catch your eye
Catch my breath
I am in love
I am in love
with the Earth and the Sun
and the Eagle Nebula
I am in love
with trees and moss
and black rhinos
and leafcutter ants
I am in love with whales
and their songs and music
and the place it takes me to
I am in love with my poems and their words
for they are all poems of love
I am in love with you
the butterflies of joy
the pangs of anguish
the overwhelming burst of emotions
My longevity is measured by it
My existence determined by it
I could not be without love
Without the feeling of it
Without the telling of it
I revere you from a relative distance
But you’re allegorically closer than anything
I permit you to imbue my every atom with magic
That I do not own or succinctly comprehend
Sometimes I can ride the pain into
Waves of utter ecstasy; at times I sink
My smile, prompted by
A glamorous form of
Grief – I bite my lower lip
As I bleed out in hollow
Corridors made of you