May 28: View of a Pine

what do they call those? candles? that the pine lifts skyward still. she is winter-killed, red around her trunk, and cramped, encamped between two houses, not the forest she expected at my window as she rises, spring by spring she bears away any excuse for not trying. there is wind, there is sun, there is…

May 22: Certainty of Trees

Gratitude to the rain. Gratitude to the sky. Gratitude to the many tiny things. What are we supposed to do? Arise into cities, bloom and shed light? It’s true, I don’t think much about how my brothers live. There they stand, gnarled still offering softest green in faithful bargain, to the sky. Look how their…

Rainwashed

rainwashed morning sky could last until dusk all low smooth silver and smoke elm queen shakes out her tresses daughter plum shyly offers a branch blue black asphalt path, too, shines here, the cedar fence there, willow trellis peonies contemplate sun to come reach leaves glow yellow, red, burgundy forecasting and remembering fall even here,…

camping in search of bears

there was bear poop at the foot of the ravine just by the trail full of berry husks, intriguing to the dogs. there was a cougar on victoria park golf course just below downtown that could put a hole in one. there was a lynx at rest in the legislature grounds approving the shape of…

May 3: these old boots

I have cared too much what people think but not about these old boots; nobody worth knowing would scoff at their scuffed toes rebuilt soles, leather scarred by usefulness. I hope my face becomes as lovely. Today’s image by Christoph Shütz on pixabay.com

Day 22: Laconic Tonic

Don’t ‘at’ me any Earth Day bullshit, i’m in the garden: unless you have some skin to put in this game, shut up. If all you have is voice then tell me like a peasant only the poet bones of it. But better you bend your back to shovel lift these bricks, use knees. Kill…

Day 16: List Poem, On Gardens

What gardeners become: contemplative sanguine patient genocidal in service of their chosen. What I love in my garden: saskatoons, who rise early dandelions, earlier still that shaggy sense of wellbeing presaged in first green lace slug traps, like Mom would set. Spring garden memories: Grandma, tongue thick in English sorrowing for strawberry time in those…

Day 13: Carnival of Jesters

how they move through morning’s trees shimmering cast back the sky from wing and tail forecasting indulgent days of dance attendant on mawkish puppets shrieking naked lusting beaks out blindly trusting how they move the season’s cycle onward juggling songs up to the One eyes sharp for providence smuggling sticks in random symmetry, as home…

notions 1: bird song

crows, gulls, and those little guys who fly so fast crank and marfle on about topics well outside boxes, wheelhouses, bailiwicks my languages stake out; they might be talking about territory, it’s the one thing we are sure they do; over my head, some sort of fellow with a voice like a movie sound-effect –…

Tell Me a Story, with Metropolitan Orchestra!

One of my professional goals is to work with orchestras. Friday, I get my first chance. tellmeastory_poster_v2_final_10-17-19 I’m guesting with Metropolitan Orchestra, performing a poetic piece composed to weave along with Legend #1. What’s my text about? A certain time traveling lapine makes use of the moon in order to visit a composer in Bohemia,…

On Land… Addendum: The Question that Matters

Addendum: This morning, I listened to the radio, and heard Greta Thunberg address the UN. Having lived through the Nuclear scare (notice nobody talks about all the armaments still out there, still as great a peril), and witnessed how people struggled for the ‘right’ title to attach to this crisis we must now fear, I…