7 Sept 2020
Willingdon Beach
Posell River, BC
Do. Move it. Stay
Put. Leave. Today.
Chance it. No dice.
Tie line dropped,
She drift away. She collapse the pop-up.
Poles removed, canvas sags.
Man with head of moose, how care.
Fully tucks it. Crank shut.
We linger, we lost,
we who found time.
6 Sept 2020
Willingdon Park
Powell River, BC
I want to rubbish those tired words,
words that nose sand,
foraging as pretense,
until magnetic sculpin
scours chance to morsel remnants
scared up by him with
up look eyes atop flat skull.
Down below my crocs,
oyster squints through porcelain lips
lest she be pried wide,
exposing sanctum
for picking clean:
white bones strewn among
the cities of her sisters.
Stains of heron's yester meal
embellish concrete,
that nods along the water's lap.
He grunted our intrusion,
S neck sheathed in ragged,
Clumsied to the corner,
then, throating scorn,
lurched upon the sky.
One loose feather fallen back to sea.
31 Jul 2020
Ruckle Park
Salt Spring Island, BC
Pillars of this delayed dawn
spilling gold above land's length
turquoise shafts aloft reposing island forest
ship slips shifting silver
burnishes the sea:
Mine eyes have seen this glory.
Whilst tongues of ladies linger on the
morning: the sleep, the pees,
the kids, the food,
the melting muscles,
the paragraphs of prayer.
underscored by timpani of diesel.
Below the fallen tide, small pool reflects some
white of climbing cloud.
There, blossoms of cnidarian,
jostled by the mottled limbs of crab,
stretch to capture crumbs of breakfast
sailing under sea.
1 July 2020
Off-kilter heave, squeeze the blood,
between so many muffles:
cloth, skin, bone, fat
Clasp threads of ambition, that have
frayed, dis articulated,
(as morrow beds the line of bass,
punctuates our longing:
reedy. auto-tune),
(as Tara sweeps the Little Bear,
snoring on the lawn:
straw-combed).
Tried to find the hollow, down below umbilicus
clasping sacral arc:
eluding pin's point,
(as marble softens, slate decays,
blossom ball of leek
begins to topple,
even as it flowers).
(and leaves of time, pressed in clay
display the smile
worn by mistress of the sphynx,
unblinking midst haboob).
The crumbs have all been carried off by ants
leaving us to circle
as if ground hogs.
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