When our family still dined in one sitting, together,
"dollars to donuts" subject of school came up, as did weather,

and then back to the topic of school and those
homework assignments, but saying "Bob Elliot "grows

like  ****"" got mom and dad talking about clothes
and shopping south of the border woes

in Spokane, though my dad worked at Hudson Bay
and my mom toiled at Woolworth's, earned her pay,

they wanted "bang for buck" and would not allow
"good money go after bad *******" here and now

with the Canadian dollar almost at par,
and gas was cheaper for our old car,

"South of the 49th" just then,

the phone would ring and one of our friends would ask
if we could go out and play until dark, mom would take us to task

and say as we went out the door, with a slam "best be inside
"before the cows came home"" we were already three strides

from the door though (we didn't live on a farm
and only animal was our pet was a dog, Goldie,) what was the harm

as the sun was staying up later
the homework would be done once daylight was long faded,

and we would get to our beds "as snug as bug in a rug"

moon beams read all the stories to the children at night as they
went to bed, not sleepy

the Underjordiske were everywhere they could cause a fray, always
acting out and creepy

and lost people from far away have stories to tell
but eyes, echo against safe canyon walls, they are lost too,

And the Earth gives a beautiful sigh out my window, and the branches and leaves say "again, do it again, do"

I let my self drift on the Columbia River, an inner tube swollen with the air from the smelter on the steep banks of that place called home

and here the clear and cold night snaps me out of my reverie
for just a moment, I see the gloaming

the dream, I had as a child climbing mountains all,
ones that scratched the belly of the sky

from there I would see all the longboats there that ever floated
on any ocean or any bay with sails on mast high, flags to fly

and the bright lit ones would be the funeral pyres
lighting the way to the Rainbow Bridge,
"Odin, Ve, can you hear me?"

big dreams that don't fit in small houses and needles
from the street won't pick locks but pierce lives, lost souls of the sea

and my past is a lover that lets me sleep at the foot
of her bed, curled up on a cushion of Dogwood flowers,

every morning to wake up in a different alley and walk just long
enough to see that I am lost, powerless

but i fear that this is savagely wrong
and there is no music in here to sooth the beast  

standing so close to border of reality that I
hear all the illegal crossings scream, West to East

and Belugas gently drop
into the deep part of the
of the River Fraser where I wait, they leave
me her letter and take the bait
and she said "she didn't think
I would mind if she found someone
else, as the distance and time was further
than she first thought", and the tears...
filled that flow since, and through time

Empty

at my feet helmets, two, both an ancient one, a new
one, i light the letter divided in half light the paper on fire
and
my great great great grandfather says as he
turns away saying "there is no shade in the shadow of the cross"

You will get lost in the big city
you WILL, too hard, you WON'T, too much
the secret to a long life is keep breathing and a pulse pounding
you will seek riches and find pity
you will find a garden of riches yet turn it too mulch
you will marry an attentive spouse if you don't mind the hounding

the secrets of the moment are lost in the blink of both eyes,
the secret of receiving is an open palm
if you touch the swollen belly of a bull, and you find ardor
you can find beauty everywhere do not despise the disguise
a secret a flock of birds leaves behind is calm ( bird **** is a secretion not a secret)
the secret to great wealth is found offshore

you will go places reading without, leaving your seat

all day the weather men play at meteorology
it is about the science of change, a morphology,
where weather patterns are now living
things and their habits are hard at clue giving,
the rain drops that are fired from cannons aimed at Earth,
make the sound of soldiers charging for everything its worth,

Peace,

after the storm as night falls with thunder
and lightning flashes, steals and plunders
the shadows that ,soaked the trees, fell in pieces they dove from the sky
and those loudest of wet pellets that pop, and ricochet off metal stovepipe
chimneys,

and the wind lashes out and drags wet fingers on every window pane
and why, why
do I now crave the sound of popcorn hoping the melted butter will keep me sane!