These gossamer wings
Have nowhere to fly today
Folded on my back
So, I sit and watch the sky
Waiting for the wind to change

Morning light subdued
Lingers past the wake of day
Apple blossom time

The dream fades away
Awake now at five AM
Heavy rain outside
April’s not the cruelest month
The month you left us should be

I am not alone
Counting syllables at dawn
While the bed is warm
What does all this mean to me?
Others dream of Haiku too

Passersby ask me
Why I sit the way I do
Buddha in their eyes

This day’s sweet moments
Seep into our existence
Showing us the way

Betray the promise
Lie to those who trusted you
Feed them to the wolves

they told us
to wait
so we waited
for two days
in the hot sun
we waited
when we asked
they told us
to be patient
so we were patient
for two more days
in the hot sun
we were patient
finally
when they arrived
they told us
to run

Inevitability

The night
scattered its stars
across an asphalt sky.
We, you and I, stood
at the edge
of the precipice
watching.
Behind us,
stood the powers that be
counting down from ten.

I wrote a thousand words today
none of them made much sense
they landed on the page
like fragile flakes
off a fluffy French pastry
butter croissant

what I wrote
read like a poetical manifesto
I blamed the media
for the lack of iambic pentameter
the church for the lack of irony
and school boards
for the lack of imagery

I wrote about “Jesus”
that guy who used to stand
at the corner of Bathurst and Queen
shouting at the top of his lungs
announcing the second coming
save yourselves, he screamed

an hour later
he’d be sitting in Starbucks
reading the wall street journal
sipping a double mocha latte

I wrote about your mother
that brilliant, beautiful woman
who was crazy as a loon

I wanted to pay homage
to her memory
so, I wore three bodega skirts
and four sweaters
my unkempt, unwashed tangled hair
hanging like a shroud
over my face

I wandered down
to the financial district
sat cross-legged against a wall
a block from the TSX building

for five dollars I would read
tarot cards for the baby-faced
investment brokers
headed into work
the cards, I said, would tell them
what stocks would overperform
this quarter

they gathered around me
leather briefcases clutched
to their chests
breathless at each turn
of the card

until the cops came
asking to see my license
they would escort me gently
down the street
not wishing to offend
the mad woman
who had predicted the crash
of ‘09

I loved your mom
there were times
I wanted to be her
wanted to climb inside her
and witness the world
through her eyes
especially when she sat at her desk
writing a thousand words a day

To this end we pray
Send us home to our loved ones
We do not fear death
We do not fear your anger
We live in the space between