of all the days of ice
where winter surprises no one
Canadians dance in the pole light streets
curse their shovels and give the evil eye to
neighbours with snowblowers who
curse the neighbours with 4-wheelers pushing snowblades.

of all the days of ice
where you finish the job
and the snow plow comes by once more to your drive way
the sidewalk plow comes by to your driveway
the city comes by and threatens to bill you if you don’t go out
one more time….

of all the days of ice
where you curse your luck for owning a
corner lot
needing to shovel all the way around to the 3rd
property pin.

of all the days of ice
where you remember being a child
running the hills with a flying orange saucer
with skates in hand
breaking branches in the forest and make believing war
with your comrades…

of all the days of ice
where you dream of fruit beverages floating in alcohol
enjoying a sunburn on a January beach
and laughing hysterically
thinking of your neigbours

that bastards with the snowblower
the jerk with the 4 – wheeling snowblade
and the gawd damnedest city where your taxes don’t
cover all the days of ice

those 90 or 180 days of
all that ice and snow….



150 Years

in the tamaracks
there’s grey smoke a’glaze
chronological marker
saying something here has changed.
the birds continue their song
saying ‘step back Miss Carr’
-a generational foot just after the
British invade.
and the music on the sheet is 30 years now
4 hours Strombo
just after the Purple Onion – Tyson.
Calgary on the map
and we don’t have to cross the border
heroes painted and sung
right here along our
the tamaracks of Fall are yellow in death
burnt branches of October
bringing in the cause.
Winter will sleep and the ice will freeze
un-unified nation will lift up its head.
in the forest here – the birds continue their song
‘original man of each province has been too long a’swept’.
Negroes of the north with their own stories ignored.
propaganda both sides and trust frozen – few.
bring in the next generation
sing – paint – read or – write
writ the wrongs
so it can’t be dissolved.
admit the beauty that every character has seen
Thomson to Carr – Colville in the East.
let the songs sing a story
with lyrics on the graph
local band with a hand that travels
and back.


arm thru door i say
toss toilet paper
news paper
online paper – charged

down hall i hear
and think of myself surviving 9 months
on 1 bag special from Wal-Mart

Husbands and Wives
Roger Miller was correct
his 3 or 4 lined assumption on how
marriage does or does
not work


in my romantic prowess
needing the fight to end behind first
closed door
i walk back with
pine scented – canned oil

toss it thru to a
on floor


then a Spray



ladies and gentleman….

is HOW
of TIME.

What’s a Verb Word for a Poet Who Wants to Sound Academic?

God threatens winter
grey supernatural – what’s the word?
i need a 10 dollar verb sound….
7 am rolling digital red – a better word for red?
and i roll over to touch a woman who
grabs the hand and does not want to hear a thing.
my fingers are splayed over a small planet
a flat stomach growing hungry for tea and warm porridge
this belly button where the apple tree was once rooted –
but i promise her peaches and cream or maple cinnamon.
leave the bed – leave the curtains
creak the hall floors and flick the kitchen to life.
there is no instant heat in the house
electrical element slowly wakes
while she stirs 75 feet away.
what’s a stronger word than orange?
steeped from pekoe to Earl Grey
while i stir spoon – her grand duke
poor milk to cool the porridge
and keep the bears in hibernation
while we steal a portion of the morning
before work

The final Season…

The heart of the day
snow less – snowy owl – dog sleigh
The white of the punch
headlights crafting a roadway crunch

4:30 blossom
the Canadian descend
Grey guttered lights
early nights – Christmas of din

The talk talk talk
conversation begins
December – January’s – Niagara
’17 calendar and the

Flip – Flip – Flip
numberin’ 12 seasons

on earth our heaven
waiting but not waiting
nor hesitating
life wasting
knowing heaven
ocean risen

in the mix

the batter lift
the oven light
darkest night
lantern lit
gold coins – none are hid

a touch of blood

golden cross
empty cavern
sleeping garden
unknown gardener
3 days of sleep
3 sleeps – Christmas sheep

in the end

there’s earth forgiven
heaven leavened

bread of men
bread of women

a drink – lifted sin and
you and me

the way it’s always been

Continue reading

tail to the wind – the hill – the view…..

some of it’s here
and some of it’s gone
but don’t you know
i’ve never belonged
to some of the towns
lost inside my mind

but when the horses were laced
and in the saddle we placed
the memory of the west was divine

so it’s a toast to then
and a toast to the lost
and it’s a smile and a bit of goodbye

the sun is setting
and the memories are smells
lost in pictures not hung
in the leather and inside this life

some of it remains
and some of it’s gone
but some of the travellin’
still lost on the memory
is natures divide….

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