Drizzle

random drops land on sparsely covered head as I walk wet
sidewalk in black leather still dusted with the flour from
yesterday’s shopping when I walked on the parking lot aftertaste
from eating the chili that was handed to me in the store she was
thankful that I stopped eager for some company in the aisle of an
antiseptic grocery store that I don’t go to very often usually going
to the big store right in the next lot which has bins of movies that I
like to sort through maybe finding a bargain and buying it and then
heading back out into the lot zipping up the leather jacket because
it is probably raining in this dismal October

Riding

I zip around the corner of the sidewalk
corners are the best part
voice humming motor sounds
I am on a snowmobile
I am travelling extremely fast

at school in the morning
---------rows of desks
---------chewing gum
---------forming the gum into a cube in my fingers
---------sent to the hallway
---------conversation with principal

coming home for lunch
jump on the skidoo
ridefastallthewayhome

park machine
get off
enter warm house for

lunch

before the long snowy ride back

with gum in pocket

Cleo Poem #3

plaintive insistant
your cries come from outside the door
a calling
reverse siren

“I belong inside
after
being outside all night
the cold air like a blanket of teeth”

I let you in and you slink quickly to the food dish
eating a few bites
and then find a place to lick and preen
you come to me for some touch

“let me know that you are still my friend”

my hand drops and pets
and scratches
unreplacable
luxurious
living
warm
supple
smooth
delicious
downy
fur

U2 on Youtube

running

because he can

over bridge
across stage-----up ramp

immense structure like a giant space spider
dwarfs singer

he stops running and sings in
broken phrases his voice
a clarion call

video screens switch to show picture of woman in Burma

I sit on computer chair and
stare at smudged screen

am I there among the roses feeding on their every move and blip
or am I a webcam inside myself staring at my smudged reflection
on the computer screen?

a tear fills the rim of my eye singing “One love”

where are we running?
in circles?

in or out?

are we virtually there yet?

Dara

blond hair lifts leaping
a blur of high precision
slams ball through defence

Dream of a Dream

a balloon hovers over the

massive forces
choir along the back
--------men-------women
--------------in black and white
---------------------folders ready

orchestra in tuxedoes bows poised

organ piano

podium waits for me as I approach
power in my hand
lifting the baton

the balloon lifts, carrying my brain and
I can do nothing right

tune to the oboe’s steady tone

organist’s face is a question mark

now tune to the organ

---------sorry

choir shuffles and sighs looking longingly at the
balloon with my brain

it changes from yellow to red to black

a loud pop is heard as
I wake from a dream of a dream of a dream of a dream…

Writer

flanked by sports banners in a gymnasium grey shawl
standing behind podium head tilted forward hair falling
down over face white bracelet gleaming hand carves
statues of light emerge from air black rims on tip of
nose bubbles of confident presence emerge floating and
touching brushing hair away from eyes allowing sight
and sound to enter and emerge like a low husky voice
sounding the depths of a murky sea

Poet

dark hair
-------streaks and tufts of grey
dark jacket
-------blue shirt
------------white buttons
ruddy face
-------thick glasses
gravel voice
-------words of whimsy and wonder

hand holds aloft

red book

Youth Choir

eyes focused ready
young voices reverberate
best hope for future

Cold Shower

needles enter the head
burrowing into brain

numbing all thought feeling

all I have is pale skin

laughing out loud
crying cold tears dripping onto
hard tiled floor

all pores tightly closed
nothing in nothing out
i wear this hard cold armor

longing for warmth

The Play

Dim lights blanket theatre
enveloping warmth
voices all around create
cotton candy excitement as
slowly
------slowly
------------darkness descends and
faint music emerges
------sweet tones of------expectation
expecting what?

the rehearsed and
------unrehearsed
the conflict and
------resolution
the scripted and
------unscripted
the fantasy and
------imitation of life

the velvet-chained bond between
------performer and audience

Youth Choir 2

simple a-frame construction
creates
---------------space

fog of conversation all around
ordinary words
---------------blunt blades blaring

sharp notes of harmony begin
--------unseen voices
-------------space welcomes

a dancing daring smile
approaches the front
--------capturing attention
-------------filling the
-------------------space

young bodies all shapes
---------together
----------------unified
-----------------------as one
sending a single idea

piercing-------------pronounced----------------palpable

overtones rising and dancing

becoming one with the

------------------------space

and lifting us all

a-frame cutting through clouds and fog

into

----------hope

Me and You

in a bubble of bullet-proof glass
we fly through the forest of
time
a closeness of tremendous proportions
warmth and strength sustain

inside the multi-colour sphere
we hold on
blue sheets around our bodies

always this to come back to

On Being 48

icicle thoughts form in
never ending breeze of October

juices cut off and I begin to change from
the green vibrancy to
yellow and brown tiredness

drizzle and snow dampens
wetness soaks into heart and soul
a carpet of numbness--------waiting

my grey hair keeps whispering
you’re getting old

time for the Grecian formula

time for the warmth

the blue

the green

the sun

Keane Concert

voice vibrant silver velvet-tipped arrow
shoots and bounces off walls and ceiling of
theatre

standing on a platform
every sinew stretched
like a preacher proclaiming

behind him
hands flying over keys
anticipating beats and swells

bathed in washes of colour and image
moods jump from platform to stage to
knees touching outstretched hands

meandering melodies
and lush chords
touch
everything
with the energy
of

youth
passion
love

Come Running

flinging rope bone across yard
barely landing
all muscles engaged he
runs after it intent on
retrieval

no need to learn this
began as a puppy
barely able to run a straight
line

he grabs the fibrous toy
and turns around
loping back
breathing hard
ready for the tug of war that ensues

he could play this game forever
in the sun
on the lawn
after a day of students and talk

ears flopping
tail never stopping

Hazel Rah!

Cleo Poem #2

meows ring out loudly from the kitchen
an alarm of burning need
she wants to get out

early morning ritual
stepping on my stomach
bladder full
to find a place to lie down

pin prick sharp claws
scratch carpet on the stairs
as tufts of tan fur get
left behind

the lovely tiny face
purring body
beauty
of form and
movement

learning forgiveness

Why I Golf

arms straight gripping club
pull back twisting, head stays down
swing through perfection

Premature Winter

snowflakes swirl counter clockwise
gently lighting on everything in
the yard

leaves load up with little mounds
weighing down
but not falling

after snow, sun begins to warm
tiny ice crystals break down
forming droplets

slipping off leaves
dripping down onto ground

a flaky thanksgiving

Thanksgiving Dinner

singing becomes the moment

sitting gathered
tables filled with colourful creations
of culinary joy

orange sweet potatoes
white turkey meat
brown gravy
green salad
red cranberries
burgundy wine

thanks giving with family

---------our abundance glaring

praise god from whom

---------overeating again

moments that need singing

Lynette

foggy plate glass obscures view
as my foggy brain struggles to
find a way

her blades cut edges in the ice
strong legs control skates
arms out to the side

balancing

across the rink

face smiling
determined eyes

spinning, jumping, twirling, gliding

over and over again

breath coming out in white clouds

a young strong body
in complete harmony

a balancing act of mind, muscle and motion
clears the fog from the plate glass

Sunset

voices all around us
standing
--------sitting
----------------white walls

looking across at the spectacle of
the sea

nightly display of beauty

gold adorned women with handbags

old men running beside donkeys
----------------one thousand steps every day

stop to look and wonder

no charge for this show

bright orange haze lowers down
--------------sinking past caldera into shimmering Aegean

voices stop for a moment and take a breath to witness

the illustration of

grace

Shower

hot water washes over body
dripping down
exquisite warmth absorbs into tired muscles

and I think of Florence

a room on Dante’s street

the cooling fan blows refreshing air over our
revealed bodies

as we drink wine and love each other

the exquisite closeness
spreads out into the room, building, street
enveloping all of Italy

dripping into our

souls

Sarah

blonde ringlets bounce
bright green eyes pierce through shadows
round cheeks
and mouth form expressions of total
involvement

singing
creating song from
items heard, learned, observed---------kings, special, easter dresses

profound innocence

blonde curls rest
tired eyes behind funky glasses
intent on page as pen
scribbles

writing
creating poems from
inner thoughts and intense experience
---------love, faith, truth, pain

showing us how

October

pushing off
hands slicing through water
beginning to stroke and kick
regular breaths
feeling the cool chlorine skim past

line on the bottom leads to the other end of
the pool

every stroke is a struggle
all-consuming
no end in mind

a gulp of water instead of a breath punctuates the repetition

just get through

laps overlap and become
one big lap

tell me again why I am doing this

Mass at St. Marks Cathedral

arches and domes dominate the square
----------Sunday morning in Venice
-----------------day after festival party
-----------------------streets littered
-----------------------------cups, bottles, cans
----------crowds of tourists create chaos

heat rises off cobblestones
----------sun glances off the cathedral
-----------------as we join line to enter
------------------------sanctuary

cool stillness envelopes us
----------notes from the organ lead on
-----------------sitting in the back we wait and marvel
------------------------who built this place?

choir sings – I know this song – “Ubi Caritas”
----------“Where charity and love are
-----------------God is there”

harmonies echo the huge expanse of arches and domes creating
-----------a sense of restoration
-----------------whoever built this place
-----------------------built it for

this…

filled with beauty, we leave to join the

hot

chaos

Gerald

long legs stretched or
tucked under

stubbled face with unruly
blonde crop of hair
glasses sit crooked

laptop propped
book on the side

music plays
Young or Dylan

Hey Dad, did you know Isaiah walked around naked for three years

his brain a repository of
knowledge
trivial and important

due date looms
a
giant foot of doom

he’s in the zone

making it happen

becoming

Delphi Marathon

carrying water bottle
-----------camera
--------------heading down the hill towards
--------------------Athena
-----------------------sanctuary


beautiful pillars standing tall and imposing
------------requests contemplation
----------------meditation

15 minutes to get there
------------it’s a dry heat – 40 degrees

Satie plays in my head
------------single notes
-----------------simple chords
----------------------so full of prayer

glance at watch
------------must get back for bus

take pictures and start climbing
------------must run if I’m going to make it

It feels like a marathon
------------sweat runs down
-----------------head pounding with heat
----------------------should I hitchhike?
will Athena help?

the ancients didn’t have to catch a bus

they didn’t have Satie either.

Dad

a gravelly whisper
“what are we waiting for?”

the white wavy hair crowning
face full of confusion

leaning to the right in
the wheelchair
no strength left to sit straight

this man of straight corn rows (and desks)
perfectly placed scrabble tiles
and the three point sermon

“what are we waiting for?”

“we aren’t waiting, dad, I’m here for a visit.”

little remembered
nothing enjoyed

What are we waiting for?

Crete

Salty waves wash warm over
stinging eyes bobbing in
blue water

waves of heat blow
across pebbly sand
reviving synapses and sinews

waves well from within
soaking in the love of one for another
sea---sun---sand---sky---skin

floating in an ocean of waves

Cleo Poem #1

a single silent leap
onto my lap

I don’t touch her as
she arranges herself
purring padding front paws
turning until ready
and settling
her weight warming my legs

I am the chosen one
but don’t touch

she wants proximity
but not affection

thick silky fur
tempts my hand

how can I not?

stroking the softness
she offers her face and I
oblige

scratching below the pointed, perfect ear

but I know the clock is running

leaping off

she glides somewhere else and

I am left
with an empty lap

Retaining Wall

concrete --------rough ---------heavy

grooves fit together
set in place

a new flower bed
limestone base
levelled

perfect curves and
straight lines…not

a wall retaining what?

remembering Frost’s poem

“Before I built a wall…”

remembering words said and not said
and laughter
damage on a summer night
with a black lake and shining moon
tossing all night in a cold bed

am I mending?

the blocks make my arms ache

working together
coming to the curve

“something there is…”

the blocks don’t fit

sunlight fades as I work backwards
moving every block again
mending

my ---------arms --------ache

remembering

Delphi

mountain top village
old man sells oregano
to internet cafe

Tuesday

clouds and fog hang low in the air
drizzle almost rain
soaks through
to brain

teetering on the edge of sadness

tables and chairs filled
backpacks and binders
open and close

desk piles with papers
poems
words scrawled and printed neatly

keys and pens get used
dozens of times

words fly through the air
exploratory tendative
no positions taken
full of respect

sitting with agendas
pretending professionalism
nothing decided

clouds still hang
driving home in fog

eating at the table
family clears clouds away
stories and giggles

Autumn

where are the sunflower dresses that
ring so true in the warm wind of my love?

where is the leftover raisin that squishes under
the feet of blind desire?

leave me a morsel of turkey breast at
the thanksgiving table of forgiveness

the jaded lightning rod of anger
comes with a money back guarantee

don’t try to understand the patterns of colour
on an autumn leaf

just fall in harmony with the sensational dying beauty

Losing Ourselves in Venice

we find the church

round and round we
go till

bumping into it

entering and thinking

Vivaldi knew these streets
going to Mass or school
didn’t get lost

strings begin and despite
warmth and sweat

getting lost in the sustained melodies
as they swirl among the medieval frescoes

young player
obviously
the time of his life
playing spring solo in venerable Venice

getting lost in his joy

walking home
the darkness fools us
doubling back
where now?

WWVD?

melodies that double back and circle and repeat till

the home key is found and we

sleep in Italy one last time.

The Acropolis

constant hum of cicadas
invisible in the trees
steady strong hot wind
blows skirts and hair
as sun heats up ancient stones
marble ruins
surrounded by miles of grime and litter of Athens

I look for the insects in the trees
but can’t see them

I wonder

did Sophocles hear the Cicadas?

as I climb the steps of the Theatre of Dionysus
placing myself in

the hot
noisy
drama of existance

Sunrise

look out balcony to see
orange glowing horizon
Apollo shows himself over
the eastern sea of Santorini

rear view mirror picture
framed by dense trees
orange glowing morning
of Manitoba Maple

Volcanic feeling of
possibility
framed by
home and
family