Friday, October 13, 2017

Minto Food Court

Below grade, the under story
           perfumes roasted rye
           slab of sizzling meat
           carbs of Manhattan
           green glo Gunea boys
           down nil one to Alleman
                          (in driving down pour)
           chipotle ketchup
                          slithers long my tongue
                          lapping round tender molars.

That quest of right future
           forgot by mushrooms
            diced in egg
             by New York man's man
              from Africa
               wielding bacon machéte.
           Down under Ottawa
           where plastic forks
           lift another cheerful heap
                            of thigh fodder.

And cubes above us gather somber selves
                            double clicking now 'til noon.

Monday, August 28, 2017

Birds of Sea

Quelling swell
           licks these soft stones
                    dressed in green feathers
                                     white shawls
                    swallowing my head
                                     in enzyme soup
                                     that digested
                                     mind of gossip
                                     amniotic brine
                                     has melted down my spine
                                     leaving patient heap of dust
                                     awaiting Autumn's deluge.

Shuffling sea
Scatters bristles of the
                    hoarse heron    grunt.
Sponges up the spilt song
                    of a Himalayan tune.

Beneath this cloud of pine shade gnats,
                    mind seeks to latch
                    a thread of unfinished business
                    lowering barbed hooks
                    to snare a knot of misery.

                    But, reeling back,
                    the line unwinds
                    leaving gulls
                    to weave a quilt of sky.

Sunday, August 27, 2017

Shingle Beach Sunset

Splash sweet soft
            on bed of stranded bladder wort
            sand ground
            from
            bleached oyster skeleton
            foam climb
            green light arc
            then mouthed in
            rolling wet stripes
                       against gold:
                       the parched arbutus,
            beneath side long
                       smile moon.

            While ferry from Vesuvius
                         crab walks
                         past a peach lagoon.

Fisher's metal muscle boat
            grinds grey streak
            on shifting bronze.


I can lean my jaw
            upon her living shoulder
            listen to her voice
            climb up
            through bone.

Sunday, August 6, 2017

Splashing

I.

out eye of sky
smiling brows of gull
canoe's punctuation
             upon
             26 flag trellis

shivering timbres
the brilliant entrance
             of elephants
             fully embellished
             with lace, gold,
             sapphires,
             diamonds in their eyes.
the tip toe hippos
             shrieking
             over quick sand
             flaunting gravity.

eroding the evening
             with your icicle charms
                     your lusty bassoons.
             
beneath swoop crow caravan
             making double u's
as we maneuver our
             yellow tusks
             our porpoise thighs
             dipping our tentacles
             past liquid membrane
             below the aluminium
                     candelabra.

And the moon of the clock tower
             rasps
             circlets of haze
             wherefore
             art
             thou?

II.

Two strings of devil
waver below
Grinch's hovercraft
who now vanished,
        now alights,
        green eyes flashing.

Tiny torches blink open
        shimmer corn,
        shimmer green gold,
        shimmer maple,
        on this life vest lake.

Throats of your cannons
        wax.
        Grandfather's chime.
        Kayakers drift past
        blast mouth

        burn sky
like a great golden toasted
        marshmallow.
     

Sunday, June 18, 2017

Karmapa Khyen-no

Golden parasol
jewelled brocade
palace of courage
           climbing on trumpet's
           flight, pouring
           brilliant shower up
                         across realms
                         beyond gone
                         gone far beyond.

Your honeyed baritone
           so rich
           so clear
           evaporating last vestige
                        of an inept limit.
           May it echo.
           May it flow
           beyond cease.

Precious guru,
           how can burnish your
           treasure in our heart?

How may we join
           one thousand billion
           hands?

How cherish this bright lamp,
           sheltered in
           crystal vase
           spilling every hue?

Please remain long.
Please return.
Please spread these
           brilliant clouds
           throughout our
           realm of stifled tears.

Galley Cafe

On the Spirit gyre, list
      me innards gently slump
      spine rumble
      on the diesel beat
      while shrouded islet
      slide Salish grey.

Some paint their ribs
      with butter brush
      palette scrape
      cubed potato.

Some sprinkle grains
      crystal death
      swirled amber tea.

One flays a slender
      cucumber, her
      face drawn in
      sobriety mask.

Two gnaw sheaves of
      murdered swine,
      glistening
      rent by restless incisors.

Monday, May 22, 2017

Grand Pré












Spangled grass on crest of dike
       Swimming past my wheel,
Slide betwixt the ruddy marsh
       and prairie meadows green.

As tide recedes, the mud banks crackle
       Lock keys calmly clanking,
Redwing blackbird flashes stripes
       Sings from pole to pole.

As I traverse the verdant path
       Black spotted cow stands watching,
While over on the other side
       White-faced cattle haunching.

Trapped within an algae cove
       Flock of minnows dart,
And just before Mosquito Point
       Crows vantage from pink apple.

Two women stuff the Volvo full
       of desiccated sheaves,
Above red barn on Marsh Crest Farm
       Silos cascade shadows,
And out beyond Evangeline,
       The rusty tide sinks North.

These lands, so rich, were stolen thrice:
       Stolen from the sea and plovers,
Stolen from the Mi'kmaq
       Then stolen from the Acadie.