Simple

Joy is the Simplest Form of Gratitude – Karl Barth   He has walked out now, into the night and the starfields, whose honest face shines as did his own. his long shadow slow voice, and devotion circled the pole-star of love, unwavering and if he did waver, and if he did tire then it…

Surf Rider (for JW)

A little poem inspired by another Twitter pal’s call for us all to work toward a better world, together. I’ve never met you, Jesse, but I believe we share a love for this world of wonders. I see it, too, sometimes, flashing a fin in the murky waves of this present time; battling the undertow…

For the Master, One Year Gone Onward

on any given day, divinity comes floating down the wind, or through still air reminding dirty seekers in our reek and tattered sensibilities that yes, it is still there. yes, it is still there. Thanks for the songs, Mr. Cohen.

Hallows: At the Thinning of the Veil

Read this while listening to Sting’s “Love is the 7th Wave” from 1985’s Dream of the Blue Turtles, which runs in my head as I write. (Megwetch, Mr. Sumner, for that&many more songs). at the edge of darkest season as the bright and ripe subside in rolling sober robes, november high above the city thermals…

Transit of Alexandra

Fuckin they’re on Native Time. I ain’t scared Ma, I’m mad. Fuckin chicken shit! I’m shaking cause I’m mad, Ma, that’s how mad I am! Two sets of footsteps, one a halfbeat behind. She catches up to Ma as they pass me, raging about white cunts on stolen land they’s just borrowing this place we…

Little Autumnal Verse (for RM)

Just for fun, here’s a verse that came to me this morning, inspired by a Twitter pal’s lament over the sadness of rain in October. It reminded me of my dad, passing on the Anishinabe view that Winter is simply when our Mother rests. This resonates with views I’ve learned from various Earth-based spiritual systems,…

For My Mother

April 17: Nocturne: Tiny Now She is tiny now, my mother and jokes in the morning, when her teeth aren’t in, how she whistles like a little bird. And i want to reach back to the nights when she brought the piglets in laid them in the woodstove oven so tiny, but she believed in…

Taxday Homestretch

there it is, the line and we are not the smug ones smirking today over brunch no, for us, the race is on cross-country, in the rough hacking with pens like machetes through this bristling, sucking undergrowth of paperwork that bays around us. how does it come to this? every year, astonished that left alone…

Blue Seed Pattern, 1987

for Trish Sewell and MM What if we stayed up all night? This was long years before Seoul Tokyo, beloved Kyoto singing Daijobu! with the genki boys down on Kawaramachi-dori down by the hot coffee machines.   What if we walked the city? This, after years walking the long browed hills of the north only the…

Turtle Island Easter Prayer

O Lord, renew me this body, this heart, this mind this soul O you Good Spirits you Saints who intercede budge aside, if you don’t mind just enough to let me speak to Manitowak i do not know whose names and specialities were not passed down Holy Mother, some of your children are standing in…

April 5: Landing

for Catherine Sewell, who walked on at 39, or else would have been 55 this day would she have laughed? i met our old colleague in Superstore talk turned to landing kids so as to break that trope of Indian comes to City and skids out of control into alcohol, crime and life as a…

Some Snow: Poem #3 of 2017 30/30

I’ve started a new page, in honour of Poetry Month, where I’ll be posting daily (one hopes) poems. I had a blast trying this out last spring, having been inspired by This year, I’m playing 30/30 with pals in The Stroll of Poets, and we’ll be posting as a group after our month of shenanigans is…