Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Latest List

What's expired?
The bus pass,
library books,
driver's license,
photo contest,
deadline for long-range wishes,
age of love.

Monday, December 29, 2008

Male Menopause

Love is honor. Love is
addiction. I want to love something
now. I want, watch
bleed. I want to
court and win. I pull at the bridal.
Everything now denies it,
calming me, cooling me off.

The Hope Laughter Dynamic

He seems very playful today
and everyone wonders why
with things going on in his life
that make younger people sad.
Does age give them some kind of
immunity from feeling? The younger people ask.
I would be a little put off by that.

If you take away hope,
he tells us eventually,
you are in toyland,
in a flippy care free game.
If none of the broken parts of life
can be repaired, you are free.
Hope is an easy sacrifice to make
as the screws of life begin to loosen;
and freedom lays before you along
a laughing path.

Saturday, December 27, 2008

Human Urgency

The thunder drowns out her voice.
I wish she wouldn't speak to me
in the middle of a storm.
It's dark, cold
and her voice drives me back
stuffing me in my hole
like a cotton wad.

I see
how frantic they are too
buying things they are
afraid to use.
They will want me
to come and instruct them
but will never ask me.
The thunder drowns them out
as they grab urgent time
on my cell phone.

Oh this storm is a bad one
coming just at a time
when relief was at hand.
I know the urgency
that blooms into panic.
They live among mirages.
I don't know
if I can guide them out.

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Jackie the Emissary of Zeller's Cafe

The ambassador passed
from table to table
mending wounds and carrying
Transcona honey balm,
sweet especially in Winter.
Family miracles danced
side by side past the doors
toward the outer snow,
singing names,
sugar plums.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

The Homecoming of Cinderella

When Cinderella returned from the ball
and came back to ordinary life
it still fit like skin.
Even though disappointed
that nothing happened all at once
Cinderella knew the best
possible good time
and magic had been
in the air.

The castle was a stranger's house
and Cinderella didn't know the rules.
All the love and magic
could not make it clear.
The little things
invented to make
life bearable
still waited

And Cinderella always worried
that the magic would not follow,
that tomorrow it would be gone
all hope with it.
What did magic still intend?
Could one ill placed word
poison it?

Tuesday, December 16, 2008


Have you noticed
we have become pure people?
As all the fancy stuff
burns away, only
prosaic lines remain,
small admissions,
unadulterated by hopes.
We are plain,
structures unmodified
by flattering reference
to childhood.

Monday, December 15, 2008

The Saturday Visit

We all know it's
a special occasion
and her face includes
some of the old attention,
the smile she practiced
for the last several years,
appreciation of the imported delicacy
brought in just for her
but from a foreign place.

Then there is all that
moisture on her face
which shows in the light,
sweat and tears, along with
the tightened jaw. Something
grips her, hands and feet
wrestle to surrender.

Once again what starts to slide
through familiar channels in my brain
then slides awkwardly
aside and crashes,
outside words.

Saturday, December 13, 2008


Betrayal flows
as naturally as a mountain brook,
from incautious promises

or promises implied
but never stated.
I may betray your hopes and wishes

coldly without a word
and not inside the letter
of a lie.

Friday, December 12, 2008

Early Valentine

I like the way
friendships are formed,
slow entangling of lives
until the ties can only
painfully be torn. And I
like how you say nice things,
the flush biochemical
moves new liquid over
dry tissue.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Ride Home at -30

The girl with the
incredibly smooth
white skin and the
bright blond hair
that seemed to be
iluminated from within
gnawed on a bagel filled
thick with white cream cheese.
Why would an angel be hungry?

The man behind her
soaked deep in the
culture of cities
jazz-talked to a tiny
nub on a chain around his neck
repeating, "I'm on my own ma man,"
several times, almost chanting.

These people sheltered with me
from the dark and the stupid
un-mentionable weather in the dull
grey light of the Number 47, which
means I would have to walk from the stop
as if I hadn't walked enough.
They come from a different
world. By the time they de-barked
from space-ship mother the earth
that protected me had vanished.

Tough are these young strivers,
passing through impossible
trials of consistency and pain.

Friday, December 05, 2008

Good Faery

Ooh hoo. Her name could be
Jenifer, or something airy.
she sprouts dreams,
sings, whispers dreams.
Sleep, she says
using her hands
to model soft
shapes in space.

We dream and wish ooh hoo.
Misty hair catches in the spring breeze.
Blankets flutter on clean beds. Wishes deep
come true.


While I am astonished,
they just live,
simply sitting down
and puffing up their things
on the table beside them.

Simply, without worrying
about airs. Things are things,
conversation is personal
and easy to grasp,
even though it diffuses,

without their knowlege
into the surrounding
ether of shades.
They sit with a plop
beside a pile of coats.