Time for a short break. Back in January.

Simeon

a Hebrew dedication like any other
circumcision
blood
blessing
naming

Jesus Christ
----------as per angelic instruction

and then an old man approaches
clear eyes
soft voice
wrinkled strong hands

takes crying squirming baby from astonished mother mary
and all becomes quiet as a spirit descends
and gives the song to bless the one
who extended his sight to see the One

as we too may encounter him at any
time
in any
one
at any
place
and may depart in peace
extending the song

Gloria In Excelsis Deo

they all tried their best to approximate angelic gloria

Vivaldi
punching out the word like a bullet to the heart
Palestrina
soothing the hillside with intertwining harmonies
Handel
exploding with high heavenly voices
Bach
breaking up the word into an instrumental dance
Mozart
simply letting the voices sing the sonorous song of praise
Beethoven
rushing upwards to a joyful complexity of rhythm and wall of sound

So many others

and then they struggle with the next line
angels proclaiming

Et in terra pax

not in heaven
not in our individual psyches
not even in our congregations
but on
--------------earth

how do we sing that?

with irony?
with hope?
with assurance?
with silence?

look at the newborn face of the child
the only true antidote to hate

and peace on
earth
may yet descend
on dove-like angel wings

stopping for me (apologies to e.d.)

there’s a grey horse outside
stamping and snorting
white steam nostrils

he’s attached to a dark covered sleigh (this is not jingle bells)
gleaming in the moon’s glow

my coat awaits as I get the urge
but it would be a loud and grating ride
as there is little snow and we would be
travelling on gravel and pavement and grass

where would we travel
I wonder
on this strange and singular journey?

the horse waits----------impatient

but I prefer the beauties of here and now
green eyes of my love
burgeoning lives of my children
good will of
friends
-------siblings
---------------church

and just like that
he moves along, sleigh scraping
behind
empty

Dad at Christmas

his favourite carol was Good King Wenceslas
and he liked to sing all 8 verses knowing them by heart
maybe it was the way the kindly monarch
presided over his grounds and led by example

and if we sang Joy to the World before the meal
he would try to sing the second verse as well
no hymn truly complete without all the verses

this was when he was older

he is strangely absent from my earlier
memories of Christmas
a vague smiling presence as gifts and play
took over
but at church or gathering
he usually gave a talk or
sermon at some point
pointing with that thick finger at the meanings of the
day

in later years this was reduced to reading Luke 2
“and a decree went out”

He made sure it was read and then smiled with pride
at his children and grandchildren as they performed and then
dutifully went to receive his and Mom’s blessing

sometimes he took out his harmonica
assuredly tapped it on his calloused palm
and played a hymn
trembling right hand
creating vibrato

He wasn’t much for receiving presents
gadgets and ties and sweaters held little interest for him
dropping to the floor beside him

but he usually got a book or two
and these he examined tenderly
feeling the edges of the pages with fingertips
turning it around in his hands
opening to a random page and beginning to read
presiding over the words with interest and
the love of learning something new

as he quietly presided over
a family gathered
to celebrate the Gift
with interest and love

not trees

the sap in winter
retreats to the core
or so I imagine
no expression of life or feeling
bare sticks waver in winter wind

we are not trees
as we sing our longing
for life and light
in this winter world
often with a catch in our throat
reaching out for each other
with unwavering love
wind freezing our tears

Jonathan Elias

he’s wearing a brimmed hat
black curls emerge beneath
he hasn’t shaved yet today
not particularly prayerful

but his dark eyes tell you
something serious is going on

he wants to take you far away
------- and so you get on his traveller
-------------- and propeller through
--------------time--------------space
across border lines
crossing distant seas

when you finally stop
he points and you see it

the strange beauty emerges like a multi-coloured diamond in a desert

and you ask where this is

he says nothing
pointing at his head under that hat

and you think
sometime
--------somewhere
------------------somehow

this prayer will be answered

Advent Poem IV

lighting a fourth candle means
nearness

when the kids were all eager hands and eyes
there were four songs before we could eat

it was tradition
o come
------what child
--------------angels
---------------------joy to

each candle lit in turn
inside the little green
Christmas tree-shaped holder
the first candle already down to a nub

a clamber ensued
whose turn to blow them out

the fourth candle meant nearness
as we sang our songs with
bow tied hearts

Song of the Church

Emmanuel…
come
we call

our voices turned inward
around outside wall

candles in hand

honey voices dripping harmony

where is the spilling over into the street
where are the bells calling those who long
where are the carolers in their scarves

when we magnify Emmanuel in the world?

orange moon

mundane prairie winter
not much snow

and then through distant trees
the moon appears
like a slice of Christmas orange

it hangs horizon
like a brilliant orange bowl
floating the sky
holding all things fanciful and fantastic

for this is Manitoba in winter
sometimes you see northern lights
but this miraculous tangerine surprise?

I reach out and fingertip the soft lunar edges
my thin arms stretched through the dark December night
and hear the beating of my living heart

Satchmo

cold snow flakes
drift
around yard
as he walks up the drive

he’s underdressed
and incongruous this rural north
but his white teeth shine
in that familiar smile
when he knocks rhythmically on your door

everything seems so easy
from his
pin-stripes and knife creases
to his casual two-handed shake

and you ask him
------- hasn’t it been hard?

you know what’s hard?
not doin’ what I do

as he describes a large circle
--------could it be a heart
with his arms

and he goes on for a while
------- not too long
about the rhythm of joy
the wonder of play
the smile of peace

not in those words of course
but you get the drift!

tree

rising from simple base
to angeled tip (not angled)
covered in coloured mini stars
randomed with
wooden stars
-------paper scrolls
----------------knitted mailboxes
-------------------------crystal figures
---------------------------------fragile balls of colour
27 years of collecting
why?

because…
------- because…
-----------------because…
well…

can you see
it busts through the ceiling, the window, the eyes
and exists all
alone
in all its prickly greenness
as a
----------force of fierce beauty

Advent Poem III

we know it wasn’t December 25th
it wasn’t even bleak midwinter…
were there shepherds?

a lot of borrowed stories and myths
to piece together a story

shrouded---------shaded---------shadowed

O Magnum Mysterium

divine becoming flesh?

what are we stumblers in the 21st century
supposed to believe?

groping in the shadow of
Darwin
Einstein
Freud
Even Moltmann

but behind the shadows is light
shining on
a page open to Matthew 5

divine word become flesh
baby Christ

come Immanuel

Annele at the Piano

a transcendent moment

her finger lingering
lovingly on the key
note hanging in the balance
serious black dress
intense eyes on music
body slightly swaying

the note takes on significance of
what came before and
what is to come

our gathered family held in tension
a simple church basement
so many stories
so many struggles
so much beauty

a slight lift and she releases the note
as a tear falls

the music goes on

Whitacre

blonde hair cascading
he enters hesitantly
shyly
but with a smile

he speaks of this strange idea
that there is light in the world

after all the dark dark clouds
and violent thunderstorms

centuries of war
genocide
hunger

light that breaks through
like water in concrete crack
and can’t be stopped

light that shines through
the sympathy of eyes
the symphony of tears

light that shines eternally
from creator’s love

and you believe

Mary

magnificat

to think that our souls
enlarge God
make greater
make more audible
let us see details
like a zoom lens or
a distance microphone
and bose speakers

boggles
astounds
seems impossible

but she was chosen
to bear
the shame
the weight
the pain
the Christ

the saviour
the way
the truth
the healer
the companion
the lamb

and we follow in our ways
singing her song
magnifying

in sickness

ticking tips of clock-like knitting needles
accompany hospital sounds as we
wait
for IV fluids to do their thing

she is there
my girl---------beauty---------wife

listening------easy talk
making life life

a simple church in Saskatchewan prairie
sun slanting in window
piano playing Debussy

we walk aisle together
no giving away
we are each other’s

little did we know of
sickness and health
little did I know
of this woman
who makes her children stars
who teaches little ones to love
who makes our house a home
who knits for little ones in Africa
who cares and cares and cares and cares

chemotherapy II

strangely quiet
except for nurses’ chatter
and the IV pumps purring
cat-like

hopeful sunlight pours in through side window
as I glance at the people in the chairs
all ages
--------all expressions
------------------all symptoms

hours pass like this
with the cats hissing poison
into blood system

the quietness oppresses
like waiting death
ready to pounce on the
next mouse

but the purring comforts
carry curative
curious companionship

Advent Poem 2

thin layer of snow covers roofs
ready to melt and trickle into eaves
at the first sign of southern warmth

Santa’s sleigh won’t have much to land on
at this rate

but the sun is shining
tempering this cold day
in Manitoba
in early December

glinting lovely light off roofs
and brightening the snow-covered lawn
beside the shadow of dark trees

Romeo and Juliet

a sonnet when they meet
perfection of form
--------perfection of love

or at least the best that people can do

white slip of a dress
--------jet black hair
waiting for consummation
completion of marriage
not knowing of the blood
boiling in the veins
dripping in the streets

a handshake when they die
perfection of gesture
------- perfection of commitment

or at least the best that people can do

brass

surrounds pictures in a square or oval
dignifying
adding weight
legitimizing the mundane
even if it is only a snapshot
of baby on a beach

polished golden colour
shaped into
instruments of beauty
curled in on themselves leading to
mouthpiece where it all happens
the mundane vibration travels through

and a ridiculous sound transforms into
dignified
piercing
pure
power

a baby on a beach

Gorecki

he comes to the door
covered in snow
shaking and stamping his boots

and beckons you outside
and you follow
------- bundled up

it’s not really that cold
but it’s winter here and you begin the trek

he takes his time
making new trails through the snowy
plains

everything is the same
but then the monotony becomes momentous
as you notice the tiny crystals in the snow

the small birds darting around
--------they stay for winter

the new snow inexorably
flitting down

the grey bright sky merging
--------snow on horizon

and you see the pain in his shoulders
his bowed head
his slow steady gait

and when he turns around to look at you
eyes
------- desparate
--------------------hope

John the Baptist

locusts and honey
------------odd combination

most people love honey
most wouldn’t touch a locust

maybe most were like that with him
stangely attracted like Salome
but also repulsed

but they had to listen

repent
make straight
come to the waters

this scraggy man
undignified
no status
piercing eyes
booming voice
hailing the one to come

captured Herod’s attention
captured…

picture

there’s this picture of me
we printed it up a while ago

I’m about ten or twelve and my blonde blonde hair falls straight past my ears
to the collar of my button up short-sleeved pink shirt

I’m sitting on the midsummer grass
most likely on our yard in Gretna

one leg is bent up and I’m resting my hands and chin on the knee
the other leg is tucked under

my black and white sneaker anchors my pose
as I stare into some unknown distance

I’m not exactly happy
my eyes rabbit-like, expecting something

I don’t remember being there or the picture being taken
I don’t even remember the shirt

but I remember the feeling
that apprehensive wondering – indefinable aloneness

that strikes a boy becoming man

oranges

mandarin oranges wrapped in green paper
in a brown wooden bowl
on low table

I can’t indulge – too much fibre

A saxophone reverberates in a church
somewhere sometime
a little jazzy
a little eastern in style

this I hear through speakers in my living room
in a small prairie town
no cathedral here

just dirty, icy streets and
bare black trees
and a few boxy churches

the sax plays on gyrating with its own
echo echoing
oblivious to me
accompanied by voices
harmonizing heaven

just like a perfect round orange

hammered dulcimer

the sound of winter

ping…

as the strings vibrate after
the strike of wooden hammer
reverberating the room with the clean cold feeling of
December

each string sounds in tandem with another
augmenting sound in sympathy
stretched taut across hand-crafted wooden trapezoid
amplifying and echoing around room

sometimes if the melody and harmonies arise just so
playing an age-old jig or reel or carol
a prayer goes up
pleading for warmth

in this cold cold world

lights

I put up lights yesterday
clipping plastic to eavestrough
red bulbs dangling beside ladder
--------------hooking frustratingly

one clip won’t hold weight but fifty clips
--------------keeps them all in place
one helping the other

I found electrical current
to run through them all

shining in the darkness

Irma preaches

reddish curl at cheekbone
accenting smile
in eyes
on mouth
in voice
in body language

open to the spirit
taking a silent breath

and

singing her song – God’s song
in that sing-songy voice

a song to inspire
and aspire to
to never tire of

listening to the song above
beneath
all other songs

and smiling
in our own responsive song

Advent Poem 1 - snowy morning

white world emerges
------------out of messy November

flakes drift and cling desperately onto all surfaces
blessing and covering dark branches
------dirty streets
--------------------littered lawns
as we ponder another advent
symbolic
waiting
---------hoping
-----------------praying
--------------------------working
for a lovelier ------whiter world
and I stare at the reflection of snow filled window
on glass coffee table
beside pink knitted toque
bound for Kenya

Zechariah

struck silent
--------dumb
----------------mute

he doubted

priestly pride
pulled out
rug-like

months of mouth holding in
wondrous words
--------------that soothe like raindrops or
--------------sting like blowing sand
until birth of beauteous boy and
voice returns

pride turned into
prophesy
------------praise
---------------------preparation
peace

Sarajevo

a tangle of dark hair atop pale face looking for a smile from
a mother who is too anxious to give any thing the floor is cold
and people wear jackets all in one room - the whole family stuck
there - afraid to go out afraid of the shelling and the guns
two years old and never been outside - in one room all his
life - a life of fear of war and its carnage, a life of not knowing
sunshine or flowers or the beach or the park or grass or trees or

space

When will this end or doesn't it?

1993

the news

white sheets soft still
blonde thatch of hair
eyes closed in peaceful sleep of
a child.
bed dwarfs the boy as he lies
arms relaxed--------- even

mother's hand grips railing
white knuckles showing as she
hears the words echo in the antiseptic room

1994

men of song

blue shirts and ties
not uniform
but united
-------------standing together
one purpose
one aim
one direction
backdrop
-------------cross of shattered colours

sincere singing starts
eyes intent

all these men

men of law
men of medicine
men of families
men of business
men of classroom
men of numbers
men of God

the sound of integrity

May 2011

riverbank advent

bare blackness of trees
skeletal branches
spying on half-frozen river
creeping along between
white banks

saying “so long” to November’s cold warmth
and looking forward
to what?

Ah…Christmas
dreaming white dreams
of soft snow salvation for
the world

once a year the carols come
peace on earth built into
society each December

lights cover trees and tinsel silvers
bare blackness but the waiting
goes on--------- past the 25th
for sureness deeper than
gifts under a tree

1986

Crucible

cold air crackling light
life of
lung

clinging to shreds of
life
-----slipping -------away

scarf blocks face from
reality
walking white snow without
knowledge of

black center of
-------------------bullet
hung by hot
noose
of hate ambition

hanging
---------killing
-----------------death

1985

no visibility

wind
--------searing streets
belt snow stinging
--------blinding
driving
----zero visibility

mind filled with
icy thoughts
------------blowing
cutting vision

people disappear in
---------------------haze
------------------------of
snow and wind

1989

from the choir loft

portrait of sadness?

she----motionless in wheelchair
beside pew
white hair matches
white sweater draped over
shoulders
brows furrowed in attempt to
understand English words

he-----also with white head ---sitting
in pew beside her
eyes shine with tradition
stoic eyes
mind wandering past and present

no --- joy

for their hands
------old and spotted
------showing pain toil and
tenderness of younger years are
joined in love and trust

1983

through the window

Wild pink rose
coastal
delicate and random
sings colour in
the green making
love to the countryside with
waves of warm
affection

Wild waves roar the
rocks on shore
beside
strong and
powerful shines rawness
on the scene, passionate
splashes of violent
love, there is

Completeness in the scene through
the windows of car feeling
roses and waves in
the world of our lives.

1986

moonsong

a seed swelling with moisture beneath
black earth -----cold and clammy under the
round, full moon white bright - dimness
a life latent, before time
before counting
afraid
new
waiting for...
green cracking birth
filling our lives
singing our time
with fruit ripe and full
dripping over chin and fingers
as we bathe in the
light of the
moon.

1992

storm clouds

when storm clouds gather
the spirit------dimming -
darking soul with
a lonely sunset

and
sad drops down like
piano blues in the
night

oh
let it fall
through throat and fingers
of feeling

and hear the flash of
the bright-----electric
voice of the
sky

1982

Your Love

My heart breaks on
-----the bank of the Rhine

singing a rhapsody of
warm
--------laughing
----------------wine and
solid---- steady ------castles

recalling
--------your love

1984

Summer Jazz

move
like summer cloud
wind shifting shape
across sunny sky

mix
like palette's painter
brush blurring colours
a new bright hue

shine
like advent candles
flames flickering finely
lighting dark December

create
like whale's high sonar
searching sea sound
new song

but move
fingers------feet
hands-------head
heart--------spirit

1980

down the path in back

poetry talk
----ambling down path in back
----like hunters without guns
----brushing in warm grass of friendship
----shivering in the pleasure of the hunt

people talk
----I picked a stick off path and
----tore green bark off
----it shaped in two parts
----like a boomerang but
----under the bark
----parts grew together with
----sweet smell of green

poetry again
----reciting and recalling
----lines to love and live
----down the trodden, yet fresh path in back
----and the setting sun warmed

1981

G. Timothy - friend

met your parents today
right there in Applebees
in the next booth

and I thought of those times
on Buckingham where
we watched a game or
melded minds
------------spock-like
------------in intense interrogary (if I can invent a word)
me captivated by subterranean
voice and deeper broader thoughts
that spread
like sci-fi tentacles
on the wings of a joke

the night was always chilly
when I got into my rust-covered omni
but I knew something that overcame cold
something about a friendship forged
with fearsome bonds

recalled in an afternoon encounter at
Applebees

Choir Tour (Umsiedler)

A sea of
----------faces fills
church and we
sing

---We sing of love but
can't understand the wrath that
silences the tongue

---We sing of hope but
can't cry the desparation that
whitens the hair

---We sing of strength but
can't feel the pressure that
bends the back

---We sing of joy but
can't imagine the pain that
darkens the eyes

And yet we
--------------sing
for open ears and
thankful hearts and
bind through the
spirit

1984

Reflections

Gaze the snowy moon
in the double pane of
Joy and Sadness and
see yourself in reflection

Window veils
real night of cold and dark
glimpsing moments of
restful memory

Moments mixed and
out of tune filled
with the hue of moonlight

1982

Luis' Office

neat stacks of items on desk smile
at severe suit hanging in corner
------------just in case
-------------------waves at intense player lacing skates
he'll need his stick resting along wall
passing proudly to
------------old team confidently playing
in the six old arenas
----of NNHL
--------------beauty and tradition combined
a legacy handed down to rows and rows of
caps and gowns encircling thankful
hopeful eyes, looking out at a huge stylized
H
--hanging importantly beside little
girl's handprint poem, patiently
waiting to ring golden school bell
silently
--------steadily
-----------------standing in the corner of
a neat, carefully arranged desk

2006

Tears

Tears tear the cheek
etching an ode to loneliness
that no one will read

Tears tear the cheek
of one alone
-------------and drop aimlessly
into the world of tears.

1981

Ode to Ruth B.

A hand
---------offers popcorn and jelly beans
bringing hearts
buoying heart

A voice
----------full of softest feathers
filling spaces
making space

Eyes
------brim with waves of sun
lighting corners
braving corner

A soul
--------sings songs of freedom
awakening lives
feeling life

2001

Barry's Marathon

lean, muscular legs carry
runner
along shoulder
pounding feet hit gravel as
rhythmic breath powers the
heart beating steady
------------and firm

piercing, steady eyes guide
teacher
through the maze of
questions, papers, laughs and tears as
confident words and gestures reflect a
heart of warmth
------------and light

moustached smile reveals
friend
creating strong bonds across
lines of fear and distrust as
an arrow-like spirit
reaches the target of
-------------love

2003

Carl Zach

repeated bass line
of a classic song
------------standing firm alongside
buffets of melody and rhythm
usually centered --------harmonic but
sometimes jarring
sometimes fragmentary
----------broken

you have always been there
your mild smiling eyes
chuckling presence

a bouncing string of sincere vision

now mining depths of
double bass courage
in face of
panicked melody
of pain

leading
not following
entire orchestra
into faith-filled concerto of
agape

Well, that does it. It's time for a break. I might start up again for Advent, so until then, feel free to peruse the collection.

on being 50

yellowing leaves litter lawn after
windy rainy day
but trees still stand proudly bearing
multitude of greenness

trees ------mature and mighty
offering shade and beauty
standing strong against wind whipping
across the ageless prairie

winter approaches
but right now
from trunk to tiny top branches
there is sap flowing

maybe I’ll take up the hammered dulcimer

Billie

she arrives in the rain
her stylish clothes damp
revealing thin frame
but her hat has kept her face dry
and her blue eyes
-------------dart through you with a quick glance

she kisses you in greeting
and then relaxes in the living room chair
you serve her a drink
and she stirs the ice cubes slowly
talking about how she likes the rain
---------how it settles the dust
---------and smells like the world is garden
her voice carries stormy weather
of wild wind and slanting pellets of sleet
autumn leaves forced to
ground

but here she is unbowed
and beautiful

a rainy day visit
and your dust is settled

Psalm III

when I walk down the street
I think:
he’s healthy
she’s healthy
why do I have cancer?

but then I think:
I have this blue blue sky
I have this warm sun
I have this music in my ears
I have these people to love
today

and with grateful heart
I ask for healing

things that could go wrong

you might come from the outside in and slice dimpled sphere
tailing off to the trees or the wrong fairway

you might do the opposite and hook
over to more brambly bush or out of bounds

you might lift your head and top the ball
and it skitters like a mouse along the ground

you might hit the ground before
and chunk it forward a few useless feet

you might miss the ball entirely
that’s embarrassing

you might hit the wrong place in the club
and make it go off in a crazy angle

you might knuckleball the chip
making it sail over the green

you might be using the wrong club
and end up short or long

you might lose your grip
and almost hit your fellow players

putting? that’s another poem

why do we play this game?

Oma Niebuhr's House

every day I drive by the spot where it used to sit unevenly
like a chair with only two legs on the carpet now Notre Dame
is gap-toothed with a parking lot where the house should be
where memories lodge like the tiny markings on the back of china plates
with a maroon rim sitting elegantly on the table where Christmas dinner
was served on boxing day both families gathered to play games
and taub in the old house with doors leading to old-style drawing room
with furniture and lamps covered in plastic the bathrooms were
up the creaky stairs where the tenant lived every year Brad and I
would get the same thing a striped tiger or a colourful sweater
proudly worn and we performed our wunsch for Oma who smiled
and gave us ancient candy us not knowing her tragic past
in Russia and Germany and the will to survive and make a good life
that brought her here to this house on Notre Dame
us just knowing the bossy lady who loved to have pictures taken
of her new life at every opportunity but are there any pictures
of the narrow tall house besides the childhood memory pictures
in our heads?

Deep Dark Woods

a voice clothed in plaid
imposes center stage with
drunk intensity

a voice from ages past
to make me believe in
reincarnation

an old soul standing tall
spinning stories of
love
-----betrayal
----------violence
----------------despair
from centuries before

unkempt beard turns toward
mirror image
who sits dazzling keyboards
with shining eyes reflecting
gatherings in parlours gathered
around to sing and play

these boys with such serious
souls
re-enacting fracturing
manufacturing the slow
3/4 time of the muses

Psalm II

I sing to
creator
of all things elemental

mountains jagged rising from
highway to heaven
seas immense immutable
prairie grasses stretching to
straight line horizon
great green forests
and the lives lived there
rivers which begin and arrive
criss-crossing lands
bringing life

I sing to
creators
who came after

attempting beauty
with astounding gifts
of word
sight
sound
shaping the elemental
into beauteous complexity
always pointing back
to original
creative
love

Penderecki

he doffs his dark green suit
and hangs it in your closet
he wants to get started
his full gray beard guarding his
thrust-out chin

no preliminaries
no niceties

you begin working
and you start to feel
your heart beating faster
sensing the urgency of the moment

how right now
boots march through streets
guns point at doves
bloated stomachs wait and wait
apathy blankets western hearts
islands disappear in rising water

the hours dry up and disappear
and he gets up to leave
struggling with back pain
you hand him his jacket
and he slips it on
and departs
chin first

fall prairie wind

constant tug at steering wheel
gusting surprises

flags stiff
------ends fraying
trees bend like archer’s bow
leaves let go
sailing forcefully across littered lawn
weeds in ditches undulate
like ocean waves
chaff from fields
dusts the air with
harvest
and the
unwavering white noise
fills ears

scientists explain
---------low pressure meets high pressure
old religions talked of
---------the breath of god
but prairie people just
count on the
constancy
the tug towards
towards…

Psalm I

spirit strength upholds
body temple
in times of searing heat
or numbing cold

roots of poplar spreading down
and out
bringing water from the depths

invisible gravity
holding moon in
constant orbit

mysterious message
telling fragile monarch
to flutter mighty journey

sunny spring memory
sustains dormant blades
through frost snow ice

interweaving melody of
God

9/11 memories

when I left house
Leonard was getting ready
to pour cement
for garage pad
liquid rock
unformed

driving with Barry to school
no radio, normal talk
uninformed

get out of car
and Rick informs
- did you hear about the planes hitting?

rest of day
dazed -----dwarfed by defining day
trying to grip ----grasp ----understand
students hitting brick wall of tragedy
bodies falling/jumping

TVs turned off
try for a normal day
yeah ----right

home drive with radio
no words

at home Len is sitting
waiting for cement to dry
into permanence

september heat

I wear white hat to ward off
sun’s bullets
my developing bald spot
susceptible
heat
penetrates blue stripes on back of my shirt
as I swing at yellow balls on range
sweat beads forming on forehead and neck
I think
this is September
where does the heat come from
radiating from below?
CO2 trapped in atmosphere?
God?
I look up and say
thanks
and tee up another ball

Stravinsky

he sounds angry when he speaks
but then you realize that it’s his enthusiasm
his round glasses magnifying his confident eyes
black suit and tie slightly tight

he’s come because the candles on the table
burned too perfectly
no flicker
no draft
his hands wave around conducting
talks about the breath of life
how everything breathes -------even trees rocks houses

and then he stops and breathes himself and lets you
take in the whirlwind of his righteous anger/zest
his rules
his way
always

sunset

there’s an art to saying goodbye

the hug
the words
the wave
the leaving
the shining tears

like the sun setting
orange and red reflections
in western sky

but beauty fades into lonely night
cold darkness of absence

and the light seeps from every pore
creating distance and longing

until sunrise suspends dark

but nothing prepares
for the first leaving/letting
go

radiation

red laser lines criss-cross the ceiling and my body
as I lie on the narrow table half exposed
the technicians in another room away from
the radioactive beams that bore into my body
and double-cross the cells that have invaded
my body like a tiny army intent on
destroying corrupting co-opting devastating growing taking over
I close my eyes and see the battle
swords clashing sparks flying until
everything glows with the red laser light
of hope

cleo poem #6 - on my lap

the purr of a cat sinks deep into the earth
vibrating the earth’s crust

causes the leaves above the ground to rustle
and sway in deep satisfaction
-------knowing that below the surface
-------where roots meander
-------like a lost child in the forest and
-------soak up the water needed to survive
-------the uncanny motor of the world

is chugging away

Chopin

he arrives on a purple bicycle
because he’s playful like that
but he’s wearing elegance
-------white pants -------blue shirt

looks at you with piercing dart-like eyes
and you get on your bike and follow

through gentle rolling hills
sometimes slowing to catch the beauty
sometimes speeding down a slope letting the wind
stream tears from your eyes

and then he stops and lays a blanket on the grass
and he tells of the dance of life
as if that’s all there is to living

but his brilliance and quick words
-------convince

and you eye the slow turning wheel of
the purple bicycle lying on the grass

mighty moments

slide open the jet window
and look out over the tops of the mountains
---------jutting snowcapped
-----------------like whitecaps on the sea

see how the river travels
through the valley
----------a mighty force of glacial erosion

see the sun glinting off the peaks
with blinding beauty
and watch the coastal city emerge far ahead
----------nestled in the shadow of these mighty homes of the gods

because your tiny worrisome agenda should include these
mighty moments of opening
----------sliding window covers

early fall

tree leaves yellowing
littering yard with aging
dry summer takes toll

Portraits of my Mother

standing
-------shivering
by sister’s grave
after years of lugging paralysed
body room to room

standing
--------silent
in light-flooded doorway
watching
--------mind numb
as father shackled on wagon
wheeled away
never seen again

sitting
-------apprehensive
in front of round wooden radio
a day after grad
the German advance begun
knowing dreams of engineering were over
evacuation looming

sitting
=====tear-filled
holding mother’s hand
black dress
minister speaking over simple coffin
of drowned brother

lying
------shivering
sleeping outside train station
in cold October
bridge bombed
waiting to get to Germany

peddling
---------fearfully
with mother
along cobblestone streets
balancing canned foods
and sewing machine
through perilous soldier-filled
checkpoints to
British zone

sitting
-------uncertainly
playing in dirt with little sister
refugee camp
time drags waiting for Canada

standing
--------back bent
over plants
sprawling garden in Gretna
five children playing in yard

stepping
======proudly
carrying steaming dish
for large family
at festive table
basement sunday feast

sitting
-------sadly
in small impersonal
nursing home room
feeding helpless husband

standing
-------devastated
watching her love of 62 years
take his last breath

waltzing
---------warily
light feet
with grandson
at her son’s 50th
birthday party

no stopping her

awakening

music grooves furrows in spine
unlocking layers of dissonance
and I get up
and begin moving feet
finding the rhythm in the
hips
-------heart
---------------head
discorockpoppolkawaltz
wake up senses to others
on the floor with me
unique moves carve heat signatures in the air
and I celebrate the
colours of creation

first bicycle

red painted winged wonder
ok no wings
but wide handle bars
spoked wheels
filled tires

I’m barely tall enough

push down driveway
scooter-like
swinging leg over
and out on the road
wind whipping blond hair

peddling off the seat
bike swaying side to side
back and forth on the road
speeding along with nothing but
a satisfied mind

and out to the highway
travelling away from
town
home
dependence

heart racing along pavement

freeway

An Evening

A translation of a poem my father wrote in Low German for his parents, circa 1972.

Do you recall, dear Helen, when we sat in our yard last September
In the darkening evening, with shade of deep green?
How the night violets emitted a fragrant sheen,
It was an interlude above all others to be remembered

The nightingale was singing her soothing evening song,
as we sat hand in hand and simply listened;
Life was laughing around us, and our hearts glistened,
Scenting the blooming flowers in the place where we belong.

Come sweet, let us once again give each other our hands,
And quietly consider what life has brought us to
Now that Autumn has descended like a curtain:

For us, I think of our simple golden wedding bands:
They have endured, as we remain together, this last while too,
And our encircling love, will ever be sure and certain.

Arvo Part

scraggy grey beard
tan suit jacket
no tie
he sits in your sunroom
squinting brightness

his voice barely a whisper
hands quiet in his lap
you strain to hear every word
like pearls on a necklace
each one the same round perfection
but unique

opaque beauty
firm
true
created in struggle
around a grain
of pain

and a scraggy love emerges

Baptism

head bowed kneeling
hand gently laid
words softly spoken
water carefully poured
hands clasped raising up
white towel laid over shoulders
hugs lovingly bestowed
firm faith fiercely shared
----------across the ages

Hurricane (9:30 AM August 27 2011)

swirling vortex of turmoil
approaches
blowing gales of wind and water
lashing shorelines
waves wash over barriers
like a giant hand clearing a table

cities brace for impact
as I watch preparation
for Jack’s funeral

a hurricane of emotions
shakes our foundations
surges through our cynical
defenses

waiting for a giant hand of
comfort and healing
to alight
featherlike
on our battered souls

Storm (a poem for Michael)

tan shaggy-haired sheltie
comes barking to greet you
tail wagging nervous
you’re someone new

pointed nose sniffs clothes
you lower your hand to pet
fingers buried in mass of fur
man and dog well-met

master calls and he obeys
heading out for a break
chasing birds in backyard
hope has no give or take

you kneel to play some more
asking for a perfect paw
rolls over on his back
trusting tummy rub law

new potatoes

round thin-skinned wonders
some cracked open by boiling
sweet summer savour

Chick Corea

walking quickly in bright streets
he’s impatient
curly hair ruffling wind
glasses flashing sun
can’t wait to get there
to show you all his stuff

but along the way he’s taking
unexpected detours
back lanes
quick corners
and he’s pointing out
wonders
graffiti and architecture
children playing in red and white
striped shirts
a perfect reflection of a cloud in a window

but he doesn’t slow down
infectious excitement
and you marvel
catching it

Poem for Jack Layton (1950-2011)

yesterday
a carved wooden cane called cancer
----------came out of nowhere and
--------------------whacked us in the solar plexus

but when Jack carried it he used it like a
sceptre
magically inspiring the different strands to tie together

reaching out and hooking us in
poking prodding the soft underside of
apathy

pointing out a better way down
a clearer road

helping us walk that road
even with our broken hips

yesterday
a gentle wooden cane
---------fell out of nowhere
-----------------at our feet

waiting for us to pick it up

Wedding Poem #3 - Nick and Chantelle

grains of coloured sand
poured out
into glass vase – your life together
time
not one alike
pieces of yourselves

petals dropped
songs sung
vows taken
papers signed
all with wide smiles
--------like moonbeams glowing

now the outpouring
and mixing
taking turns

and yet each grain retains its own
colour character
giving beauty to the
mosaic of marriage

Wedding Poem #2 - Jen and Doug

shimmering water glints sunlight behind flowered archway as
two hold hands and become one
this lake
where hundreds of makeshift boats were built
waiting for spring
to reach dreams of gold

here now
an exchange of gold rings
and dreams of a life in Dawson

and we follow along
walking the red carpet
blowing bubbles of brightness in the hot sun

and we dance the dance of dreams
our hearts shimmering
with the endless daylight of the north

Wedding Poem #1 - Jarryde and Nancy

mountain magic marriage
drizzle descends as groom and bride enter shelter with parents
a wistful letting go

rain patters roof during vows
but we hear the love and commitment
shining through tears and stumbles

rain stops in time for exit
and sun shines on merry mountain
as we grip hands and throw rose petals of pink wishes

chilly evening descends as glasses raise in tribute
but bodies warm to the dance
into the mystic magic mountain of life

27 Years

I Can Hear the Bells from Hairspray is going through my head as
I marvel about 27 years and I see the Queen and 90-year-old
Prince Philip on the cover of Hello Canada out the window
the sun shines in a sky with woolly clouds but it’s still
chilly because last night it stormed torrents of rain
and hail in some places and I know I want
another 27 years of hearing the bells
to face the sun and rain and hail
and snow and droughts and
floods and cold and heat
together

Satie

as you pour his tea he sits at the edge of blue leather sofa
as far away as possible
he adds some honey ------stirs slowly teaspoon flashing in the light
picks up cup and saucer with slow steady hands

he’s staring into the tea
when he begins to relate
in carefully chosen words
the intricate pattern of veins on a leaf
how a bee collects pollen from a flower
the play of light and shadow of sun through shutters
the way a cloud moves across the sky
changing shapes

the way a heart can break and never be the same

he puts down the tea with a slight clink on the tray
and is silent
and you are left with a slow sustained sweet sadness
warming

an afternoon in mid-august

prairie wind pushes blanket air brushing skin
green leaves wave hello to blue blue sky
brown grass struggles to survive in unrelenting heat
bright sun bakes bare pavement
white moths flutter in the shadows
bikes shout past on pathway to summer freedom
colours serene surrounding house
tomatoes redden-ripen in watered garden
dried leaves litter ground with hints of autumn

learning to freeze-frame these shining moments

pellet gun

leans in the corner of the garage
hard ---------unyielding
like a stone in your sandal
brown wooden varnish
black narrow barrel
I see it and my mind synapses back to backyard
of adolescence
shooting rusty cans
the mild kick in the shoulder
walking into garden
hand off the trigger
barrel pointed downwards
bird in branch above presents
a live target
taking aim through vee sight
trigger squeeze of death
robin falls to ground
picking it up
blood on my hands
red breast still
gun lying on black ground

Nina

she stands in gravel driveway
patterned skirt flapping in wind
arms crossed ----head bowed

and you go out to join her
there’s a sadness in her posture
but also an insistence
like she can’t wait for you to catch up to her mind storm
which always tornadoes two or more worlds

worlds of
------slavery
-----------refinement
--------------------faith
------------------------courage
------------------------------illness
-----------------------------------truth and lies
and the only way to bring those worlds together is to
pay attention!

dry

cracks crevice brown lawn
blades prickle bare feet walking
waiting wet relief

Harry

lying on gravel shoulder dark blood staining ground our ditch a green
background lifeless body to be buried in the back garden once so full
of life now still my throat constricting tasting death at 12 recalling the
puppy with one ear flopped over he sat with hind legs awkwardly splayed
to one side part shepherd part boxer with black bristly fur white ruff on
neck he would follow dad’s brown dodge to school and stay there all day
until he followed it home in the afternoon protecting our yard from all
danger darting after cars going by

a quick turn of the wheels was all it took

Ode to J. G. Tamino

you play your little flute
delicate little lips
blowing steady stream of sweet breath

high notes travel across continents
drawing us close
to hear the clear new music

as you make your quest
and we accompany
playing the chimes to your pipe

and you give us wings of hope
as we see your perfect blue eyes
and hear your song

German Translation

Ode an J. G. Tamino


Du spielst deine kleine Flöte
aus zarten Lippen
linder Strom jungen Atems

Ihr heller Klang durchtönt die Kontinente
nah führt sie uns zusammen
zu lauschen neu geborener Musik,

die du versuchst.
Wir begleiten dein Spiel,
wir spielen die Glocken,

und du beflügelst uns die Hoffnung
wenn wir in deine Augen blicken, reines Blau,
und vernehmen dein Lied

faces are everywhere

in the little purple flowers behind the house
in the maple leaves wavering in the breeze
in the linoleum in the bathroom
in the blue carpet
in the hardwood

looking back at me
no smiles
just eyes nose mouth

posing questions like
what are you doing here
why are you looking at me

telling me
I`m just a flower
get on with it

Lovett

voice
craggy boulder with fissures
alone on a plain

he stands still
leaning slightly forward
black suit understating

narrow face
eyebrows raised in friendship
he sings of loss and gain
of whimsy and weeping
of rising up after defeat
of standing tall to the end

the rock sits shimmering
alone
unique
steadfast

Sarah in Kenya

five small bodies surround you
three on outstretched legs
black skin gleams like lake in moonlight
close-cropped black curls top each eager head

you contrast with
blonde hair shining in the sunlight
pale white skin
long legs

and yet there you are
fitting in like a big puzzle piece
making your journey a part of theirs
your lap an endless pool of love

Jocelyn at three

thick dark curls newly grown
button nose
round brown serious eyes
------radiate
------------life

up stairs on all fours
------legs too weak
running after dog causes coughing fit
steroids course through her body
------from recent chemo

determination personified
like those unruly curls
full force

back up from the couch
chasing dog again

no stopping her

Bailey

candy tongue spilling
tan fur soft as cloudy sky
on my lucky lap

swimming

sometimes I swim
slicing through cool lake
with awkward strokes
turning to breathe
only to the right

my eyes stay open
seeing sun slanting through water
algae clouding view

sometimes I swim
mind drifting back
to algae infused prayers
thoughts turning to breathe
in the sun-soaked
fireworks of love

sometimes I swim
getting it right

chemotherapy

bags hung upside down with tubes going through ticking machine
mixing and pumping all manner of substance into one tube
leading to my veins vying with the bastard cells in my blood
battling battling battling my heart racing my tongue telling
me that this battle is going on as I wait in this chair battling
boredom and despair until the bags are empty and
my body breaks free

incision #2

begins below sternum
down and then sharp turn
under rib cage
slicing to side

a sideways ell
redpinkpurple
starting to fade
blending into background
of skin
skidding into past

ell is for liver leaving past
behind
regenerating
growing
filling space behind ribs
with

hopestrengthlife

life force

grip
pull
snap
dead branches
drily break off trees
in backyard

no sap binds

unaccountably
living twigs sometimes grow
on these skeletal raven perches

grasp these leafy lives
and hold on
tight strands resisting removal

Raindrop Reflection

drops cling to brown branches
perfect
-------clear
-------------orbs
reflect green and brown
universe of spring

as buds begin to unfurl
flowers emerge from black ground
robins perch before next worm
warm moist air touches cheek
and thunder rumbles
---------------in the distance

heart opens to possibilities of life

Fleeting Hope

dreaded rain wettens
laundry hanging in my mind
take down; wait for sun

Brubeck

he’s wearing shiny patent leather black shoes
as he stands on your carpet in your living room
he sways back and forth
hands behind his back
making things clear
he wants to
explain the newness of everything
-----------our lives are always cutting new furrows in the topsoil
-----------digging up new grooves and truths
-----------asking new questions
-----------seeking new answers
his feet haven’t moved but you are taken in
by the exuberant beauty of his presence

You’ve heard this all before
but not in thi sway

Gerald in May 2011

tufts of blonde hair
unruly

stubble grain-coloured beard
covers insistant chin

backpack straps cover parts of
old Beatles T-shirt

says goodbye in airport line
with awkward hug

steps forward through
metal detector

almost twenty-one and
full of mettle

striding forward
taking off

Duke

you get into his sky blue convertible
----------------and you go for a drive

he drives along dusty prairie roads and you can
see forever
the cool May wind
------------ruffles your hair
then he slows down
and you stop by the river listening to his crazy stories
as it flows by
its banks swollen by
spring run-off
but the wind hasn’t stopped
it keeps gusting its harmony of sun and dust and
sometimes
---------exotic
----------------daydreams enter your mind as
you survey the scene
so you’re not really in the car at all
you’re in some kaleidoscopic adventure
as he keeps telling you his whirlwind life
until he starts the car again
---------------and fishtails back home

your heartbeat speeding up with the swing

Red Shirt

I wear red shirts

red shirts are soft
red shirts last
red shirts are bright
red shirts laugh
red shirts are warm
red shirts glow
red shirts are glass half full
red shirts say yes
red shirts fit in
red shirts stand out
red shirts are easy to hug
red shirts say hi

like a robin in spring

welcome

Unstoppable Spring

blue may sky shimmers
on sparkling white snow flannel
green blades poking out

May Morning

cool vibes
gary burton flakes
fiercely covering green lawn
with
blinding white winter

may day jazzstorm
-----sidestepping spring
----------sidestepping time
---------------sidestepping life
------achieving
--------stasis

stop

and live this

beautiful icy
mallet on steel
moment

Bird

he wants you to walk with him through the streets

it’s dark and maze-like and he leads you through winding
lanes and alleys with sure quick step
it’s hard to keep up
but you follow
and you experience the new
as he points out highs and lows of life in the street
his dazzling story so urgent
------and painful
------------and told with such
------------originality and
------------playfulness
by the end you don’t know where you are
even though he’s led you back
where you started

Will and Kate

on ornate balcony buckingham
family gathers to greet great crowds
it could be 1311
or 1611
but it’s 2011
and millions more watch in HD

the couple kisses

one could be cynical
about money
or marriage
or media
or marketing
or celebrity culture
or love itself

but what’s the use

Miles

he stands in the doorway looking down
he’s come to say something important

he seems to be holding back
not giving all the information

then his eyes meet yours and you
see the emotions in his silent stare

withered weariness
wisened wariness
cool caring
uncanny joy

in this controlled account
he reveals all life lived

Prairie April

in manitoba

late april and early november
much in
common

skeletal brown trees
drabness surrounds with muted colours
gardens bare
chilly winds push random leaves

but then
woman steps out
picks up rake
little boy and girl in tow
---------jumping and throwing shoes
---------running around in sunshine celebration
and a lawn of green hope springs out of hibernation

Easter Lily

bursts out from green stem
bright white openness in six curved corners

a miracle of fragrant beauty
facing me head on

a challenge to breathe in the six miracles of
                     -  faith
-----------gratitude life
-----------love --hope
--------------healing

Lunch with Stephen Harper II

ice tinkled in the glasses
a cosy diner in Osborne Village

he asked how I was doing with the cancer and everything
I said I was thankful for the Canadian medical system

he said that he had been instrumental in supporting the system the last five years
I said that’s not really true, if you would have had a majority
you would have moved towards a two-tier system
he didn’t reply

He said I’M HERE FOR CANADA

were you here for Canada when you hired a convicted fraud artist to work as a top advisor?
he said no
were you here for Canada when you wasted all that money in Clement’s riding for the G20?
he said no
were you here for Canada when you refused to fire Bev Oda after she lied to Parliament?
he said no
were you here for Canada when you refused to give Parliament financial details of how much the crime bill would cost?
he said no
were you here for Canada when you refused to hand over Afghan detainee documents to Parliament when they were asked for?
He said no
were you here for Canada when you attacked Michael Ignatief in TV ads for months and then said you didn’t want an election?
he said no
are you here for Canada when you refuse to answer questions from the media?
he said no
are you here for Canada when you tell your candidates not to attend all-candidates meetings?
he said no
are you here for Canada when you take credit for the economic action plan when you were basically forced into putting it in place by the opposition parties?
he said no
were you here for Canada when you cut funding to organizations including the CBC because of petty political reasons?
he said no
were you here for Canada when you refused to honour Canada’s commitment to climate change agreements?
he said no BUT I’M HERE FOR CANADA NOW
I asked him to pass the Ketchup

Haydn

he’s great to chat with

sitting on a grey stone bench
in the park
he’s got his legs crossed
---------and his scarf
---------often gets tangled with
---------his animated hands
----------------as he repeats something
----------------for emphasis
under a totally blue sky
with warm sun
---------relaxing every muscle

a simple conversation about
nothing really
but so
important

Good Friday

maple tree still bare
branches maze bow curve offshoots
Christmas lights hang limp

Lent V

more bad news
like dirty laundry
piling

Maundy Thursday
one man kneels to face
death

lord if this cup

the bitter cup of acceptance

hold in shaking hands
sipping

good news coming

Rachmaninov

his deep voice unrolls and you are transfixed

standing at the pulpit
------------he is stained glass

you are the only one there listening
colours dazzle eyes telling of
purple sadness
-----crimson love
---------blue joy
-------------green hope
-----------------black despair
pure white divinity

the colours echo your soul until
the depths of being are exposed

Palm Sunday

he wanted to take part
scuffling to front in sneakers------ t-shirt
swinging legs on front bench

other participants busy
middle-aged men kneeling
washing bumpy feet
friends hugging

boy didn’t know protocol
----------- come with someone else
the music will stop and then he’ll go back
head lowered

she wanted to take heart
shuffling forward in red wool coat
old black lady in white shiny church

takes water and towel and kneels
arthritic joints before him
and washes smooth boy feet

they walk back
having taken part
heart

Mahler

he takes you firmly by the hand and you begin
an arduous climb up the mountain

he is wearing explorer’s clothes
rough and ready

along the way he shouts encouragement
----------and you begin to notice little things

tiny blue flowers at your feet
a bird singing spring
breeze in your hair
beating of your heart

at the top he shows you
----------world at your feet
and you realize all that is possible

but it is in the
striving
that flowers bloom

Lynette at 16

she liked jumping
and contorting her body
at odd angles

now a stable almostadult
hair flowing --------framing round green eyes
--------her mother’s eyes

she takes her own exciting path
to womanhood
but honours
other paths as well

skating to the future
a perfect spiral
jumping and contorting
along the way

beautifully

Lent IV

the cold continues

lying on icy scanner table
----------each inch examined

waking up to snow covered world
----------robins singing confused

blanket at night too thin
----------shivering insomnia

scan reveals
------inner spark
=========ready to burst into bright flame
to melt and warm with resurrected
love

Schubert

he stops on the road and picks you up

and takes you on a journey
pointing animatedly at

crystal streams beside the road
deep green forests
snowy rooftops
mighty rivers
gentle hillsides
----------and he speaks of the
----------true life

and you travel

inward

seeing
jealousies
----resentments
--------guilt
-----------anger
--------------regrets
-----------------pride
--------------------disappointments
loves

gratitude

thanking the singer and the song

Signs of Spring

red jacket children
prance driveway with hockey sticks
woodpecker on tree

Vivaldi

he knows you well and hugs you in greeting

he sits with you in your warm home
chatting amiably about old times and new
his voice familiar and animated

sometimes you descend into valleys
and he is there with you
anchoring your distracted thoughts
to the particular beauties of the valley

a loyal friend whose arms
create a permanent
hoop around
your soul

This Body

this body of forty-nine years
of occasional
neckkinksbackpainkneetroublefootsoreness

what do I know of the inside
---------that has now
-----------------betrayed me?
with rogue legions marching into fearful territory

I know that it can still revel sunshine and rain
it can still extend towards others
and connect
it still has a heart that loves
always

Handel

he lays his hand on your shoulder as a blessing

kind eyes enveloping yours
and he fills your body with
the cornerstone confidence of knowing

--------what works
--------how darkness and light combine
--------where earth and sky meet
--------why strength and weakness exist

all around can be
chaos
-------despair
---------------pain
but his firm hand settles
a troubled heart

Lent III

grass
so long smothered by snow
now beginning to green
in patched randomness

ground
--------underneath
shaking off paralysis of frost
one millimeter at a time
allowing water to descend to roots

and so
slow spring
continues on apace
despite
our heart-bursting
impatience

Palestrina

he gives you room to breathe

as you sit in bright sunshine
on green hillside
watching the white wisps drift across the blue heavens

he simply points a wizened finger at your heart
silently asking the most important question
so that
eventually
that is all you can hear

and you lean back
in the beauty of the breathing
and answer with a prayer

Uncertain

I look down from seventh floor window
to see
Red and Assiniboine coming together
the forks
rising water threatens to touch bridge beams
ice chunks speed along in the current

what if ice jams cause flash flood?
what if both rivers crest at the same time?
what if we have a big storm at the wrong time?

I turn around in my hospital robe
and shuffle back to my room

Mozart

There’s always a smile in his voice

even in the dark of evening contemplation
he finds the sun’s warmth lingering

always there’s that playful chuckle
a reminder of
--------flowers in May
--------leaves rustling in the wind
--------songbirds in flight
--------Summer in Italy
--------God’s love
and you bask in the curve of the smile

Setback

it started so well
pink blossoms blooming daily
many now wilted

Brahms

he burrows deep into you with his grave eyes

a professor of life
making connections between

movement and stillness
the we and the I
love and longing
truth and lies
mortality and faith
hope and reality

leaving questions unanswered
thoughts unfinished

and you embody his gaze
surrendering to his art

Lent II

woke up today to grey rain
wet seeping into all synapses
creeping cat-like into thoughts
creating puddles of cold distance

rain turns to heavy snow
descending like nuclear fallout
after the bomb
waves of cold sadness invade

one of forty days
of imprisonment
before
release

Debussy

he doesn’t look at you

just stares into distance
fingering his coffee
and muses about

the beauty of mist in the streets
or the shape of clouds against pale blue
or the way sun reflects off hair
-----------of pretty girl across street

and you are entranced by the soft intensity of his voice
not wanting to interrupt lest you ruin the
-----------magical mood
he has created with sighs so soft and subtle

and nothing looks the same afterwards

Night Musings

black dark all around
turn on light to navigate
no switch inside head

Bach

he walks with you

a steady brisk pace as you struggle to keep up
so much going on
his conversation full of admiration for the order of things
each blade of grass and each insect playing a purpose
---------------in the grand scheme of things
even though we as humans upset the balance
his heart tries to work in lockstep with the
harmony of the universe as your heart fills
with the exultation of keeping track
---------------in his tracks of joyful complexity

Sarah in Vancouver

an arrow flung to farthest reaches
she starts over
new landscape
new people
new ideas

all for a dream

look into those eyes
and see the layers of love
leading to courageous
accomplishment

Beethoven

he doesn’t wait for you to answer the door
barging in with greetings
and then maintaining a steady flow of

scintillation

you can’t get a word in edgewise but you don’t want to
because you remain still slack-jawed as the brilliant intensity
washes over you like wave after wave of warm sea water on
a beach in Crete taking your little distractions with them lost
in the beautiful blue roar until the final expression and you

know something you didn’t before

Fisher Kings

we all lie here with our wounds
radiating out
poisoning the wintry land around us

the grail is there
but it is unknown -------unseen
a simple melody unheard amid the
cacophony

sometimes it takes
a gentle hand on the chest
or a smiling face on a screen
or a lingering hug just so

and we can drink grace from the grail

sing the song of spring

Hope

dirty crusts of snow in background
through rectangle window warped by weather
bare trees with unplugged Christmas lights dangling

on this side of glass cactus begins to bloom
one pink blossom broken out
a celebration of colour in bleak March world

Lent

bare branches of maple tree
-----------dipping downward
tips sticking in snow mound beside driveway
waiting for release
-----------rescue from winter penance

dirty white covers most of yard

ditch
------part ice
=====part snow
---------==part water

inside house
minor keys fill spaces
voices full of longing
----------vibrate heart

remembering the love of warm embrace
spring sun melting snow
bringing green maple buds of
resurrection

Political Poem

contempt confidence control
-------------conservative collapse
papers flying
-------------brown desks empty

election looming

substance or image
attack ads or policy
mistakes or merit
platform or photo ops
worth or war chest
heart or strategy
will more than 60% vote?
winner or strongest loser?
democracy?

Bobby

white uniform blood splattered
he kneels
----------cradling shattered head
bus boy comforts crushed candidate
hotel kitchen chaos
rosary beads offered
----------and accepted
bridging hierarchy

hope bleeding out

The Goodness of the Human Heart

cards fill surfaces
flowers bloom bringing bright hope
well wishes abound

Serving Communion

this is my body broken for you

I stand and take the basket of metaphor and walk
down aisle to back of sanctuary and serve soft squares
to waiting hands floating on waves of meaning
and sentiment some have done this for sixty-five years
reconciling and making eye contact becoming one with
the body individual grains crushed and baked into large
loaf the body of Christ

this is my blood shed for you

silver tray cool in my hands little plastic cups filled with
red juice one for each thumb and forefinger holding on
carefully not spilling despite some shaking doing this in
remembrance the cross shattering our faith with the
reality and violence of the human condition I sit down
after handing back the tray and then lift out my own cup
cupping it in my human hands and wait until we all drink
together the sweet drops of

ritual -------reflection------- rebirth

Unused

elegant imposing
it rests rusty brown on hardwood floor
made in an age of ornament
---------------curling designs carved into solid wood

most of the time it silently speaks of potential
a fancy surface for vases, candles, pictures, cards

but it can still play
---------fill room, house with the fading force
---------------------soft hammers striking stretched strings
----------------------------------creating vibrant vibrations

Chopin and Bach emerge from stereo speakers

The Viewing

it wasn’t him
the hair not right
-----------so straight slicked
the mouth all wrong
his jaw never looked like that
-----------so severe, so unconcerned

I turned away
thinking of the living mouth
-----------pursed lips of anger and threat
-----------open smile of joy in joke
-----------forced frown of deep thought
-----------kind smile of the listener
-----------intense precision of the lecturer
-----------lilting sway of the storyteller
and whispered my goodbye

body buried in polished solid wood

spirit lifted in our moulded memory

Morphine

you close your eyes
and you’re somewhere else
--------shovelling snow off of driveway or
--------walking on sandy seashore or
--------fixing broken toaster
arms made of lead and
don’t move a muscle

lying between dreams and reality
floating between sleep and consciousness to
a painless world of escape and freedom from
constant commotion around you
but then waking up to

the smile of
here and now

Sun

pale blue morning sky
turns the corner of seasons
welcoming spring’s warmth

March Snow

layer upon layer
of different densities
topped with crusty icy dirty shell
covers lawn that wants to
spring sprout forth new life

layer by layer
sun will melt whitenesses
until brown earth and green grass
emerge to colour weary
bleary eyes with
feverish life love

Incision

skirts the navel
on right side
and continues down to pelvic bone

thirteen inches
sliced through fat and muscle

pulled apart
retracted
to obtain access

an entry way
to inner secrets
and sins

what do we hide in our greedy innards?

desires
-------designs
---------------dirty determinations

what is left?

a few inches of tubing gone

and

a stapled scar

Orchid

long green single stem
reaches up
elegant curve
erupting in pale pink explosion
waxy round petals
crown of beauty
the only reason for existence
petals that last for days, weeks, months
valued above all other flowers

sometimes we take love for granted

Cancer

like a graft growing
attaching itself
this evil
bloody mass
in the messy inner
workings of the
body

happily carrying this cross
until
scalpel cuts it away

death of self
and fibrous new
body
new life

On My Back

eyes open to world of beds and white coats
on my back
legs numb
no feeling
world works at breakneck speed
on my back in between waking and sleep
in the slow motion stillness
dormant
waiting for the thaw
waiting for healing
after the cure

Joseph

his coughs rumble from the
depths of his being
his voice whispers need
his body cries out for healing
-----------lungs, back, infections, heart
his anger and frustration creates space
his life on hold for months
he always says thank you

Jen

she’s having her first in July rubbing tummy bump
bouncing on smiling words of every day need patience
pouring out like purple koolaide into plastic
patient cup not a drop spilling but plenty in
reserve for other plastic cups along the way she’s having
her first in July

Highlight

slippers shuffle as I
approach large window at
end of antiseptic hall pushing
IV pole
me
diminished
to
staring out at gray city rooftops
time to go back
to
waiting
bed

Devotion

every day
3 pm
pulls out pastry from purse
handing him home-baked goodness

and
of course
coffee in white plastic mug

sits forward
sad eyes sending sparks

he picks up sweetness
hand trembling
taking bite
this he chews and swallows
no coughs no sneezes

and
of course
sips coffee
almost spilling

she watches
this she can do
in this little room
so unlike home

to make a home

Lieber Vater

You said “Give me the feets!” and then
hoisted us aloft
sure and steady hands
gripping small feet
our faces echoing glee and terror
arms outstretched to waiting socked feet
transporting us to safety

You whispered “Anni” and “Water”
your face a mask of teary sadness
and then
she placed drops of water
into chapped mouth
you settled into long peaceful
sleep until finally transported
into safety

Lieber Vater in the background