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In my New Day I arose from my
screen-tent-squirrel-hole-flimsy-bomb-shelter-for-my-soul
and walked down to the banks of the Missinabi River
at the Mattice Landing
with dog’s leash in one hand and my right hand
leading lady’s in the other, hearing and feeling tall grass
swishing against my pant legs
and the crunch of course sand under my feet
that once trod fields of green tall grasses swishing
against my pant legs in the meadows and rocky woods of
my childhood and youth where I spent summers working

at my Aunt and Uncle's farm in
New Liskeard, Ontario and in the woods and along the banks
of the Lackawanna River just over the **** behind
the house of my childhood and youth in the Anthracite coal
country of Northeastern Pennsylvania, which is light years away from the land of my birth where I now live in this Northern Ontario port in the middle of a deep
                                     cold sea of countless
                                     converging
                                     never-ending
rivers
lakes
trees
swamps
bogs
muskeg
and mountains of snow
where snow white and black flies freely fly.

I am always trying to go deeper into the trees and bush
burning deep inside my heart of hearts to follow the Moses
that is in all of us. This eternal Voice in pebbles crunching
under foot and tall grasses swishing and canoe parting
water that flows deep in my mind and spirit once only
winding past burning villages where man rapes and pillages
but now also following a more
pastoral             idyllic             and super-natural course.?

A vagabond never quite understands the working-class
woman and man living their small dream with their offspring and slice of land. I thought they were all ostrich with head in sand. But I now see that we can't all afford to brood as I often do over the daily news. They must rise early the next morning, alarm clocks not set on snooze.                                             
Work ethic
Family hearth and home?
Days of scent
of freshly mown grass  ?
barbeques                                          
camp­fires  ?
coffee brewing  ?
children playing  ?
TV and music blaring ?
dishes rattling
in sink or
swim in the lake.?

Loosen the watertight mind drum and just dive into the
crunch of pebbles under foot treading fields of green tall
grasses swishing against pant legs. Not only wishing
but going deeper into the trees and bush burning
speaking to our primeval consciousness.
This eternal Voice in pebbles crunching and tall grasses
swishing . . . ??
The whooshing sound of wading in a stream streams
through my soul as I savour the body taste of wet gritty sand ?
between my fingers and toes, crouched down wet-crotch deep waiting long enough for minnows to tickle fingers and toes as mosquito’s pin-prickle skin.
Watching creatures much smaller than I gliding,
even walking on calm still water that we humans can only dream of doing in our motorised  sleep.??

I think I now understand . . . to not be constantly mourning the plight of man isn't being ostrich with head in sand.
I must keep gunning-off addictions alluring stare.

I must taste life
    Smell and feel life
        Enjoy life outside of my troubled mind

against the backdrop of the latest holy war
and the imploding creations of our kind.

--Daniel Irwin Tucker
Thrown into this ocean
Somewhere beyond time
Bottle's in the current
Trying to reconnect a broken line.

Draining out this ocean
In the fullness of time
Healing's in the current
Restoring broken spirit & mind.

--Daniel Irwin Tucker
When she falls into sleep
Beside me every night,
I'm often haunted by
All the promises I made decades ago.
So easy to make when
Dark feelings were out of sight.
Since then I’ve broken
The locks on almost every door.

In newlywed bliss she was
Sleeping next to me one night.
Still in that distant land
She suddenly sat-up
On the edge of the bed
With her back facing me,  
Looking into the dark closet
Next to her side of the bed.
She called out my name several times.  

Already awake, I answered,
"What’s wrong?"

With back still turned,  
She answered,
"I’m not talking to you,
I’m talking to the other Danny."

A darkened closet is where
My darker-half was first revealed.
My love and I were newlyweds, but
In one year was the uniting of the Pair.

Through all these years,
She has sensed with empathy
My loss of peace and spirit
And to at least try to fill-up
The deep, dark empty spaces
That are in the many chambers
Of my damaged heart and soul.

Only this depth of Love can,
In its ineffable heat, melt
Away all traces of impurity,
If you let it.
I have learned to let it.


--Daniel Irwin Tucker
i, the wild seed blew in my youth?
floating on the comfort of any wind
they carried me high for a broader view
to be a little closer to answers of truth.

no direction is sometimes a beautiful thing?
responsible for only what concerns you?
not landing long enough in soft sweet earth?
to put down roots that always longed to grow.

i had dreams of a constant love to put seed into?
but the high winds blowing outside roared like the sea?
enticing me to be carried on the easy breeze?
but the easy way is often a cold hard rain.??

the wild seed was called by the high winds?
blowing inside warming me with wanderlust
caught between two lovers was never a hard choice?
because the high wind was my first love.

i blew thousands of miles and light years away
landed in the soft sweet earth of a girl
a childhood sweetheart often remembered
partly the reason I blew in that direction.

the seed lingered too long in one place?
the roots got a foothold in the soft sweet earth?
the high winds tried to pull up the roots?
causing pain in me and the soft sweet earth.

the germination of the seed caused more pain
seed to maturity isn't the easy way
each stage causing new dimensions of pain?
though pain can also be the sweetness of love.

through decades and millions of light years
I have grown in that soft sweet earth?
two more seeds and deeper love stemmed from it
as I ignored the tempting lure of the high winds.

but I still listen as the high winds call?
sharing this pain with the ones I love
waiting to one day fly high as I once did
though it could never be the same as before.??

she too was a wild seed blowing with the winds?
now waiting with me to one day fly again
as we watch our children sail in their high winds?
both of us feeling the roots being pulled
and the winds starting to lift us to blow concordantly 
in a higher wind than we have ever known.?


--Daniel Irwin Tucker
Sometimes you touch me
So unexpectedly
Like a gentler side
Of a gust of winter’s wind
Blowing a thin white veil
Down from its shelf
In the branches above
Just in time to caress
My fevered cheeks
With a cool
Exhilarating rush.
Thank you.

--Daniel Irwin Tucker
For my love. Inspired by this actually happening when we took a walk together under a canopy of Elms. One of those wonderful epiphanies that rarely coincide with mother nature's thin white veil.
Assertion
Clammed-up
On the relay
Second guessing
The balding head
Of old therapies

The clock says
It's time
To nod off
Greet the morn
With withered fist
Rationalised fury

Trying to
Replace the
Pimply face
Of ******
Angst baseless in
Content
On the tether
Of just another

Addiction in a
Succession
Of spiritual
Vices perpetuated
By the nonchalant
Visage of a world

Uncaring
In derision
From callused hands
Caused by
Hard work
With little or no
Monetary avail

Hand to mouth
Foot in mouth
Hand on crotch
Crotch saddle sore

What's the point
Of a worn-down point
Dull but
Double-edged  
Just to prove

The sword of Damocles
Is still hanging
Over the head
Of your enemies

Who pop
Their heads
Up over
The hedgerows
Like pictures
In a shooting gallery
At the carnival of
A battlefield distant

Filled with relics
Of another
Dead-end
Ill-purposed war
Of the worlds floating
On the crest of
Mine-dotted airwaves
Prompting viewers
To drown negativity
And to salvage
The positive

A broadcast from
Bipolar formats
In living colour

Double-edged          
Double-standards
Double-dealing        
Double-meaning
Double-minded      
Double-jeopardy
Double-troubl­e        
Double your money
Doppelganger leading
Double life

All propagated in
Double-time
Best
Double your efforts
And tune out!

--Daniel Irwin Tucker
There is nothing I could ever do.
I could never give enough
To even begin to repay.
I sense the weight of debt paid.

My love and dedication falls short of this
Abundant grace as all the efforts of a world
That gives out of selfishness.

I often live in denial of what I must repay
Though I never could repay.
But the inclination must be there.
I carry the weight of debt paid.

I have learned to acknowledge the debt
And accept that I was debtor
To a weight that would surely have crushed me.

I have learned to freely give back
Of what was freely given to me.
I live under the weight of debt paid.

--Daniel Irwin Tucker
There is a price to pay for every negative action and reaction. This debt can become insurmountable after a while. There is a love which pays this debt in full. But even though grace is unmerited favour, love is not a one way street--you can never be free of responsibility.
When you learn this, you will find that the weight of being forgiven or forgiving, is worlds lighter than this weight of the personal & universal human debt you once owed.  True freedom does not come cheap, but it is so worth it!
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