Monthly Archives: February 2014

cottage kitchen spring

she stretches morning in the kitchen sun
waiting for me
to place her in the oven
a slow bake
on
low
heat

she tests the noodles
juggles lemons over the lit sink
single window

sock feet

green potted plants

smell taste and colour of coffee

she
taps water glass off
side-leg-thigh
leaning
against open door
frame

in the early eve
i will
pull her from the oven
curled in warmth
and love

we will eat our meal

our hearts of artichoke

her pulled only sweater

the kitchen will
be our day activity

small table

to carve our ourselves
taste the wine
give colour to the rouge
bouquet
the textured noodles
and

green
potted – plants


the deer with the white belly

you
have stolen the words
from my
window

your fluid reflection pose

you have stolen
the lavender
flowers,
the soap straight from my
grasp

i watch you
like a
deer

‘like’

(keep the word)

a deer

and i see where you have
lain for the
night

the grass is flattened
white

warm

almost as
warm
as your body

i will continue to watch
from my window

in the vase i will keep the flowers

by the sink will be the white bar, whole and dry

in this house we will
wait
and the sun will shine through
all the openings

waiting out winter

waiting for
you………..


i want your goose
bumps

i wish to create those
goosebumps

lets paint your skin
create a human
mirror
and find our eyes

i need your bumps
the squawk of
the goose
outside

tips of fingers
we
should touch together
mime our secrets
in silence
and discover the
words we feel
for
one another

i will create your
goosebumps

trade those goosebumps

share your goose
bumps
with mine.


the birth of (or) before eden

touch
the tulips of
your easter
the lily
of (or) before
after
your birth

the lightning strikes

the strands

your turn to
(or)
repeat
to
push the bulbs
out of
your own ground

the atlas
will
be painted
on your
belly

and i will spin the world

discover continents
on your flesh

connect the stars
above both
of us

and we will sail
the winds
(or)
not the blue
seas


kiss

keep it simple
stupid

bobby orr said,
‘don’t try and play like gretzky,
play how you play,
but always play at that level’

i’m thinkn’ of lee,
his UN book or RIFFS

over the head in gretzky linguistics

but

the style,
the music behind the layering of words……..
i can hear something else
and it registers on a different rink

keep it simple,
and i can play at that level


8 poems to listen to….

Here are 8 poems to listen to. It starts with ’12 weeks in Hamilton’. The theme of this poem came about after watching a documentary about Josephine Baker.
The second poem is called, ‘before the sex change’, take it as you will. The third piece is a long titled poem. It’s combination of jazz, pulp and travelling heritage.

The fourth piece is called, ‘do not dare mimic’. It is a tip of the hat to just some of the poets that have influenced my own writing style. Each portion about that poet is written with their voice in mind but without trying to mimic it. The final piece starting with the pine tree, is my own voice…..

The fifth piece is called, ‘in all they sons command’. This past summer the lyrics of our anthem were brought up with people believing a line should be changed because it was about gender. In my mind it has nothing to do with gender but instead has a higher authority involved. Of course my mother in law also pointed out that, if this was what we had to complain about….life ain’t so bad

The 6th piece is called, ‘your best friend mechanic, your hay baling guy’. I’m proud to be considered the workingman’s’ poet. To me, it is the honest working man who has the wisest words to depart but is seldom listened to

The seventh piece is called, ‘roy bonisteel’ unless you keep your head in the sand, his name is well known and respected….this piece deals with his contributions in Stirling…

The final and eighth piece is called ‘a reckoning’. For me it ties all the poems together. The past 8 years have been a journey between Hamilton Ontario and the Quinte Region………

enjoy


Cheap beer and no hockey

should i ever be found
outdoors
and need to play the
piano
i believe papers from
my
earlier work shall
suffice

torn

ripped

pages

cheaply glued pulp n’ stock

this new earthly struggle
after the pen, while i
hunch down and curse cheap
beer and partial green
potatoes
or beans from chili

the dog(s) shall
stayed tied at the ready
waiting for
my command
to
mush

taking me home
to
civilization……


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