I am sorry to announce that due to intermittent
thick cloud cover,
(I am so a lover
of meteor showers) our viewing is cancelled,
no wait is that
a clearing in the sky the deep blue colour and
are those stars
not near but afar, nope, just some plane, making
for Bellingham or Blaine, might
as well be Spain.

Shower me with flowers. (no thorns please)
Shower me with (dark)chocolate.
Shower me with meteors.
                                           No not me personally.
What lights their tales
What makes their beards
  Flame...to warm my heart
I know the physics, astro-too
Does it affect me, like it affects you
Just one hour of a meteor shower
I'll be good for another year of power,
like one super hero (or ONE with a super lot of zeroes, after)
We can hold an after meteor party at my place and
your all invited and I will put your names on the
guest list, now we can't now we won't there is no
shower here this night
clouds shield my sight
they are like a blight
on the fruit
that I toiled
for a year,
readied my
sleep cycle,
pruned back
tree tops to
see the horizon,
set up lines
of sight to
track their
paths this night
across the heavens
but now I will
go to bed,
if you show
up to a dark
house, I am
sorry in advance
as I said sadly at
the start the
show is cancelled
and for my part
I will try again
tomorrow night!

Moving through the night, feigning sleep,
eyes closed mind open to the possibilities
that all we thought was known, is now not true.

That we are being cared for too, instead why
is a balding wolf chewing at my pain in the neck.

The pig is a snake and has a forked tongue,
fattens you with comfort as long as you like
blood tipped sharp barbed wire, ***** coated
to guarantee you catch something, even if it is
too late, to recognize the calamity.

Don't blame the pig, "all animals are created equal
but some animals are more equal than others"

So on the morrow we may become as unglued as
what we open, hopin' for a merciful gated pasture
rather than a lamb for the slaughter as fast as
                                                 it can be manufactured.  

Oh sorry to disturb you,
I know you don't understand,
I mustn't either as then I would
not need poetry...to lie with me
and dry my tears each one wet
with fear that I torture myself,
sadly I know already that I am
right, but I am not up for
this
fight.

I will lose...no honour in this, against my beliefs,
my grief a failure will erode my will to breath,
so sorry go about your night or day, I don't
mean to disturb, let me fester, let me rot,
                you all are, all I got Hello, goodbye.

vessels like roadways
surround the heart of
my inner silly, these days,
cells drive slower and fast
working hard red, in the face
sunrise to high noon too last
                                              light.

all limbs move freely, come what may,
dance with chaotic steps and strides,
eyes on every street corner are the way
of the beholder, to take it in and hold
it safe and sound, valued bits and bytes
more so than those who are boldly told
to sleep not here or there but on the ground.

It is the inner silly where I live and breathe,
walk and roll up my sleeves to get returns
on my invested time.  It is the inner silly
where I work at play watching my step
recording  it all down hoping I can get
away,
          flying low so my wingtips touch

the dreamy waters, that may refresh,
my  mind to let my inner silly be respected
and free, to freeze that image forever,
to be be pasted on my window to be
seen each time I lose sight
of my Inner Silly.

sleep is knocking softly on the door,
my feet, my feet glide across the floor,
I move with ease and with grace,
something is wrong and out of place
even with two left feet it seems
one can dance, even in ones dreams.

brown mousy hair
shapeless smile
there are only vacancies
all the enamel is long since gone and
hardened her skin, yet she smiles all the while she shops
                                              she eyes her gains and stops
                                              happy noises and she dances
                                              like a little girl
childrens' bike
adult one too, part of this trip
nice pair brown capris,
other shopping bags litter at her feet
while she finds bargains at her
favourite big box outlet - Dumpsters
where she shops.


©DWE082013

I would stand up but I won't quite yet,
there are many miles in this story to go
and I worry,
that someone times 2, or 4 or 6 or 8
will get off even
though they did
                                                     participate in a crime
against decency,
under the cover of
night and "oh please excuse their immaturity"

I have digested
what we all know,
evil is not to blame, evil did ooze and course
through their vane bodies,
inhuman shame, shame her honour is on your heads
                      and will be until you are all...
locked away in jail.

Your friends
don't do you
favours by
backing your
cause, words
hollow, flapping
jaws in the
face of boys
who acted
like the men
who fill their
lives, cowards
one and all.

Your getting all trained up to knock a senior citizen
down and take a purse
                         or worse knock them off their bike.

Today
such sadness got in the way,
                        of a blue cloudless day,
                                       spotless.

She quit, she said she has had enough,
she is done,
the black clouds
of poison and
thunder have... Won

They coil around
without constriction,
pressure and a little restriction
to prove they ARE real
and her life
is in
       complete
                     disrepair.

My eyes saw the tears
fall and my ears heard the sobs
and heard them
land through earpiece of the
phone, our hearts broke
together, but only I heard it
and only she felt it.

The air became still.  As more clouds
moved in and began to leak out of
my phone.

Today sadness won, she has
no spoons left with to defend
herself, I hope that sleep will
put in new ones overnight or
some one will find the ones
and give them back with all
that tarnish gone.

Would she get out of bed,
be able to lift her head
off of the pillow, if she
started the day already
with no spoons?

I have searched and searched,
crawled on my brittle knees,
I must be blind after all or maybe
the spoons are all deaf, they
don't hear my call or my prayer,
God,
         please
                    forgive my
                                      weakest moments
                           when
                 I am
        not
able
to be
the
cushion
the
shock absorber
the
comforter
the
teddy bear
the
blanket
the
listener
the
finder of the spoons.

So let it rain so it hides
my tears, please rain,
wash it away, wash the black
clouds, take them away.

I must go she needs me...

Stuttering, sputtering, spewing words while noses were growing longer
than the grey shark that lay dead on the subway car floor, no stronger
words were uttered than a Brooklynese "phoque"  and then silence as
the stench of death and black humour.

The red bull can and a **** life, too many cigarettes, he didn't listen to
his wife, and she was no where to be found anywhere around the sub-
way walls and brick, mortar, concrete and rails with one like a taser.

SHOCKING!

Said the press, the greater subway transit authority has better things
to do, and I agree so a short poem about this will be all this brings
to the surface of a stolen idea, NYC has the dead shark, a but and
a can, while in Russia, wild dogs travel free, in those subway cars.  

cuz if it ain't safe for sharks it ain't safe for no one while in
Russia every transit traveler may pet and be near a dog, and give and receive
love.

She was walking with her summer tank top
     sailor blue stripes, dark  brown hair swaying
       same as her hips.

White purse on her shoulder, sound flowing
   to her ears, shaded warm sidewalk, solid
        beneath her feet.

She moved to the beat.

That is when he saw her, he knew what
  he wanted to do, no, had to do,
quickly left his guy friends' side.

Running quickening his stride,
crew cropped head bent low and picked
   out
a
   single  flower
     from the thorny ground cover.

Wild eh?

He wasn't done.
He spun.
Three long strides.
He was there.
Tattooed arm reaching,
out with care,
Gave her the flower
bloom and her heart
went boom. (pitterpatter)

Words stopped in her throat.
His mouth moved,
she is still not sure,
what he said,
before he ran again
to be with his guy friend.

Of course she turned and looked,
she was young and he was older,
his kindness made her bolder,
than she was ever, ever before,
she kept walking and looked once
more.

With a toss of that dark brown hair,
she made a place for the flower there.

The trees must have got in the way
                         as I am unable to say
if their eyes met only once or more,
    lesson learned
people make up this heartless city
   I adore.

Just another view
from the second floor.


©DWE082013

the aging stump now hollow,
                    not one to follow,
into the vibrant past
  or gift of the present (which is all we really have, even us trees)
           the future, what future?

sewing fresh bark on the outside
                             to look brand new,
overlook, please, the needle mark or two.

dehydrated fuel chips for some others'
                                              kindred fire
     if there is any green left, don't mind a
                                       little if there's smoke.

Logged many hours going nowhere,
roots of evil, to foul the air, and clench
the dirt deep down, gripping every wrong.

To the very fibre of its' being
with out knots for eyes for seeing,
        blind to all that does surround,
except what can be felt in the ground.

All will fail and finally fall,
hope any seedling falls
far from this tree,
there is no sustenance
to be found, in this clay
soil unyielding ground
once thought to be fertile
        not even agile fibrils,
                           remain.

The other trees show their
                         disdain,
reach up and up to the sun
full canopy of green broad leaves
on long strong branches
and block the rays,
**** the chances
of a life, of any life at all.

The gray stump remains
crumbling, a humbling cycle
to the disintegrating end.
To life. evermore.

©DWE082013

walking through, a rain shower,
that hangs in the air,
refreshing wash in waves power
past the umbrella
held overhead, trapping droplets
about the head and face
dampness that chases
any warmth from
your clothes and skin
and now the fabric
soaks it in
holds fast
past your shoulders
to those knees
        and feet
while you become
a single celled life
form which holds
water like a sponge.
Sponge.


©DWE082013

What would you say if I asked you to run away,
                                                       from all of this?
Would you think I'm crazy or something amiss?
Come with me run with me have fun and play, okay?
We could just pack up and leave the big town in
                                                              ­     our dust!
You with your stuff me with mine, we'll be fine,
                 and yes we can pack some clothes and
other things too,
                you know that quote "to thine own self
                                                            ­        be true."

How can we be truer than true, than me with you?
          I watch you create from as close as I can,
but getting it together, is it part of the Masters' plan?

I mean...we have been two for so many years and
you have insomnia and fears and anxieties, but
each one I have caught in a jar, and released into
the wild, where it can no longer do no harm.

So let us find some place wild and you will be free
to be who you really are with no need to wear that
mask you wear for morning or noon or night,
or when some one calls, and you decide to talk instead
of not answering, and then you pay the price
as the call was not free after all, your insides front
the toll.

Or a chance meeting exacts an exchange rate that
you can not afford.

And when each day exhausts you and can't
unwind
but in the bed we find you staring and reading
until
your eyes finally close and then the day
escapes
through your skin, "every doubt, every mistake,"
every band you use to hold it all in, snaps!
at once and over and over again.

Some times it takes minutes and others nights
it is hours, even if you have had a shower to wash
your misgivings down the drain, yet the strain
claws at you until you give in give up and rest.

It draws no blood and leaves no scars,
so no one can see the battle from far
away
but that is where you want them to stay
but not really,
they can come close if they understand
                                  and don't demand,
       just let you be "as this too shall pass,"
         my gentle damsel, my gentle lass.

Run in your white nightgown through
the meadow of flowers bright and I
will stand guard by your side, this and
                              every night.
                            Till daylight.

Even when you can't stop.


©DWE082013

The skin, feels touch a cool gentle touch,
                         it has not felt one as such,
since the last time, replacements arrived.

It is such a tease this breeze moving slowly,
                    one minute and creeping lowly,
begging you to chase it close to the ground.

Suddenly changes swiftly, forcing curtains out,
                                     of the way, oh don't pout,
the breeze will come back and get you to play.

Reaching up to the sky to stretch and tire you out.

You'll be a dried up leaf chaser, catch sand in your face,
one second slow next fast and faster to change the pace,
what a delightful tease lifting curtains moving branches,

                                                    Exciting flowers to dances,
                              go ahead play along take your chances,
        not a cloud mover, it is just a breeze, trying to please,

Trying to put you at ease,
                                           after days on end of summer heat,
                       still stale air and relentless heat,
                                   be polite and sit still, offer the breeze a seat,
             resistance is a bold stratagem, but your
weak, open your arms embrace them,
          easy as pie, it is a breeeze.

The tangle of roots and dirt in my eyes,
remove my sight, so how can I a sinful
man
think clearly.

Oh the soul is saved and I savour eternal
life that I find reading my muse, how then
does
happiness escape.

Everyday.

Joy, joy, joy down in my heart.
It is there, I found it. Elusive,
though confound it.

Under the ground,
under the weather,
under control,
who holds the tether?

If each month has thirty pounds
we are at 660 pounds and 540
more to go, this is the weight
of our lives.

Burdened.

Not free to be me,
dancer with flat feet,
not free to be me,
writer with a dry well,
not free to be me,
musician who can
                              not understand
what he sees not.  

Score and scale
score and scale
good for what ails ya.

Take note.

now for the positives...

The road followed the base of the steep hillside,
trapped there by the river and a park of city pride,
the footsteps walked along roadway and sidewalk,
as both young and old, converse and talked,
there are less
people now,
but every one walks the walk
that overlooks
the Columbia River, both life giver
and a taker,
people fish the river, above the plant, some
even float,
at a park named Binghy  
in hip-waders with a tube dinghy
casting their lines with flies tied, methods successful true and tried.

I have walked that same place
on many, many school days,
I have since walked more steps
more miles...much much more,
but every time I walk there,
I am once again on my way to school,
some bullies took me for a fool,
yet
I am here,
I did not fear
them then,
nor do I fear
those when
I meet them these days,
bullies do not change but technology does,
for I recognize that, as the cowards way,
and all I have ever done is walk away.

Until it comes time to stand my ground.


©DWE072013

Twisted dying pine branches rusted with death
a few green needles remain lying to the tree
with what is known to be true about the self.

Old mangy dog wandering the street, kicked
out by the owner who could only afford to feed it
table scraps but not the final trip to the vet, to release
the self.

Aging body with a faster aging mind slowly trying
to cope with the passing of time, no one to visit where
he sits and stares, not knowing if anyone cares while
he no longer recognizes the self.

she and he sit with their phones texting one another
in hushed tones about their needs while their wants
haunt them and the miles between, while in the swirl
of information and tech they have began to lose
their selves; apart but at the same time, together.


©DWE072013

Not guilty doesn't mean you are innocent

not surprised by the wrongs these days,
some play at life
some deal death
anger in so many places
fury on drivers faces
all twisted like a basin
bristle cone pine

trVth
is people,
long ago
we lost
our youth
and innocence
no patience
no rich milk
of any kindness
and total blindness
to even a mite
of charity
due to
economic
disparity
alternating
faith less
worry and
less faith,
have
we gone
beyond
hope
there is
love
there is
the
lover
of my soul
which IS the
Greatest of these
even more
than
TRvTH.


©DWE072013

Whoaa, why so blunt, harsh hard-hearted heathen,
hear me out...
chase the dragonfly as it weaves trails to places
you have never dreamed...
                                             or have you?
pick the cherry tomato right off your vine
brush it off and bite down and let the juices
                          stream,
down your granite chin.

In your life were you ever gentle,
I mean soft with kindness,
      in love with blindness,
if you held your hand out would
all the animals long to be
close to you
or would you be all alone
through decades of cultivated fear
                       and evaporated tears,
from the heat of your raging anger
                  your looks like daggers,
skip down the aisles of grocery stores,
even when you are with friends of yours,
have a sock fight and be willing to lose,
sit on some shady chaise somewhere as
the sun sets and just drink in all that
is around, no needs no wants,
no haunts as the skeletons return to
their closets and leave you to be free
to laugh to cry to share to pry
your hands off the greed that chokes
every breath that could have been full
of
life
oh be gentle friend be gentle
their is enough spirits of malice
that yours, your spirit need not
be numbered among them,
oh gentle giant not by stature
not by might but by how God
sees you within His sight and
sings over you,
gentle humble friend if
we had the time to break bread
instead of speed records or
hearts misled by, "that is how we are wired."

Gentle

you can still be a man of courage,
you are a man of strength
you are a gentle man



©DWE072013

Eyes that widen, that weep
Eyes frightened, rest now, sleep

When I close my eyes,
                                      what do I see,
from the darkness comes your face, and
trees reaching out reaching up, then
the last words I read in some Book somewhere,
the weight
of
them takes me to my knees,
where I find you waiting,
in the coolness, and all this time I have
acted and thought I was alone.

Does my life have to empty out and lay on the
ground for me to realize how precious, i t  i s
how fast it goes by, how little time we are given...
eyes heavy am I falling down to the ground
then to dreaming.

A young child on a swing,
sees a bird with a broken wing,
runs to get a shoe box, some grassy bedding,
calling for his mother, while crying,

please be okay, please okay, please

he cups his hands carefully carrying
the bird, pecking, into the box now nesting,
quietly he walks while his hands are bleeding,
calling for his mother while crying,

it will be okay, it will be okay

Up the stairs,
puts the box
down with care,
opening the door,
entering with his
treasure, quietly
sleeping,
but he can't find his mother
anywhere,
suddenly the box gets heavier,
as a
cat jumps
on, the box
in his hands
strikes him strange
as they don't own
a cat...
imagine that.

mom make it okay,
mom make the cat go away,
mom why didn't you stay...
mom?


©DWE072013

Abstract, surreal, words to describe and ways to live and wander from one breath to next,
one is raspy
the other is smoky
years and months like calendar pages are all gathered at my feet
too bad I don't understand the language they are written in
too bad I see that the calendar pad is getting thinner
I like red wine
I like dark chocolate
i can't afford the taste they leave my mouth too often but it is so rich
poor me
pity me
everything I see is always half empty, what happened to the other half
I don't remember ever living life in the full
although I am told regularly I am full of it...
what do, they mean
I will sleep now and wake again to do what it is I do
but these words these images, flash before my eyes and
overload all the aging circuitry, so they think...
there is a certain flavor in the air when you run your
fingers across the screen and touch the what you read
as if we are connected, surreal eh?
No,
we are
not, except we are human and emote and share burdens
share life, share the things that make us laugh and cry
and never want to be alone once we have truly been alone,
truth is a rare fossil, and never found in one place together,
disintegrating,
moral, fiber,
oh if only I had taken up smoking at any point in my life,
I might have learned to enjoy a cigar,
music falls flat from my tongue and my
fingers get tangled tying shoelaces,
don't bother learning the cello or violin or ukulele,
as the only keys I would hit or find would be OFF,
though my ears would revel in the perfection, not
knowing the difference,
you don't like my tone, I actually have ONE, do I?,
I can't leave this unfinished,
I would worry you, YOU,
wouldn't I?
Truth has more meaning than it ever has,
lie is what I want to do on my bed.
Not listen to them, lies,
the ones that roll around in my head,
and diminish any thing I value
and diminish me, a Child of God.
Oh good I found a bigger sharper, newer shovel,
let me catch my breath and
I promise I will keep digging...
with my hole heart.


©DWE072013

The white pie in the sky,
holds my dreams and
serves them one piece, my oh my,
at a time.

So when my head lowers like
a lander on my pillow white, I
make a case for the dreams
to feed me, to feed my future,
while I digest my past.

Oh but I lament
to my discontent
what is the context
of the intent of the
the man in the moon,
serving me one piece
of me at a time...non-stop
all night, ...
Indigestion?.
or Insomnia?

©DWE072013

He was a bright kid,                                                             ­                                                               
H­e was as brilliant, as the son
Any father would be proud of,
His dad was!
And still is,
How could he not be?,
High School, Masters, PHD,
He had the grades, and
If he was like his dad his
Heart was in the right place,
But the lake did not care,
His mom,
His sister,
His dad,
They have all cried tears
That burn and soak stains
That never seems to come out,
And never stop,
Sepia memories,
Unforgettable,boy to man,
Un-refillable,
Undeniable, emptiness,
Now heart wrenching sad.
Sad.

©DWE072013

To my right, West stands the sun, no wait it is sinking slowly to the lowly horizon,
To my left , South East, the moon, becomes more as the sun is less, best keep my eyes on,
this.
I have both in the same sky, the other part of the planet has no day or no night, light
I am greedy and I am selfish, I want to keep them both, for more than these few nights,
a wish.
To early to tell if my wish will find the well and a bottom dry or filled with water,
Even if I am right or if I am wrong, I will give back freely not because, I oughta,
for you.


©DWE072013

You gals and guys
are the best,
East or South
North and West
your kind gestures
bring me rest
in my world
of turmoil, and test
living in a
place of peace, restless?
yes always
ill at ease
you have
shown me
your love
over thirty
thousand
different ways,
I am at your
mercy and you give
me grace,
I feel so welcome
in this place.

Bon Vivant

©DWE072013

we all need to laugh,
we all need to laugh more than we cry,
we all need to laugh till tears stream down our faces,
we all need to laugh

we all need to laugh
we all need to laugh till those tears fill up the empty places
we all need to laugh and our heart floats and lifts that vessel
we all need to laugh

we all need to laugh, at ourselves,
we all need to laugh, hope floats a boatload of troubles,
we all need to laugh, so others will get infected and laugh too,
we all need to laugh,

who is firts?

©DWE072013

You have a dream, we all have dreams, dreams are needed not just wanted,
career changes, leaving for the good, what to do, thoughts of what if leave me haunted,
new directions a fresh start recharge the batteries and jump start the heart,
old dream dashed, no where to turn, no where to go, have I the heart to restart.

April Fools day, stepping out and up into the clouds of rain and night falling,
no room in the shelter,
hollow spot for our tent,
all the rain you know where it went,
next night the tornado train went
up the valley, questions were we supposed to go, on, what was our calling?

Sights to see, did we find something to refresh our minds,
nice people, amazing landscapes, (tunnels of rhododendrons)
did we leave anything behind, (except wishes for complete success)
and did we gain beyond the pain of heavy packs, and the daily hiking grind,
but we did not go all the way North to Maine but we did go beyond,
the empty path of the rest of that Long Trail remains forever out of reach,
until we hold hands, remembering,
knowing that it may be considered incomplete,
together, no regrets, no need to repeat.


©DWE072013

There are spies everywhere,
That is the last thing
some of you need to hear,
so stop listening.

There are spies everywhere,
That is the last thing
some of you need to know,
so stop thinking.

There are spies everywhere,
That is last thing
some of you will read,
so start running.

Hey, wait for me.

©DWE072013

there is noise,
is it in your house,
is it in your room
is it in your head
is it in your tomb...
grave thoughts or
      stirrings...
there is a noise,
is it on your sonar,
is it on your media,
is it on your wall,
does it all feed you?
is it magically delicious,
     or are you starving...

stir the emotions,
starve for attention,
get the tension,
or waiting for your pension
write your journal,
or live your life
MAYBE
live your journal
and write your life,

there is no one else who is able.

Does the night appeal or is it day,
Does staying close or going far away,
taste better, take your time to digest,
oh this isn't a poll.
just let the answers roll
from the tip of your nib
to the lined paper,
what causes you to fear and what, feels safe,
which is worse homeless man or war-torn waif?
do you prefer white or red,
beer in a bottle or in a glass,
milk chocolate or dark (only 5.7 grams per day)
are you a survivalist or an escapist,
do you drink too much water or not enough,
I can ask a million questions,
okay I exaggerate this stuff.

think for the moment if each choice was only between two,
would there be a pattern, or would you be able to undo,
decisions made that let your cards show before they
were played?

My life keeps me humble,
                        as I jumble,
through my day
                     and mumble,
to myself,
not in jest,
not in play,
I am not certain,
who I am, who am I?
                         I bumble
about the place
as busy as a bee,
do not stop to
look in a mirror
       at my face.

There is a chance I won't recognize me.
I walk quickly so as
to appear not to stumble,
      my stomach rumbles,
and squeals at
different pitches,
bring on the whale
song, sing along
if you know the
words.

This what the pace of life does
leaves me jumbled, I dabble in
dark chocolate, too many times
a day, I love the taste of red,
just a glass or it may go to
                                my head,
I get my heart
pounding in my chest,
wish it was from
working out and not
be stressed.

Enough of me and how are you?
You look good, time pays you
a compliment, love what you
have done with your hair, excuse
me for a moment incoming jumble.

I walk my dog, or does the dog walk me,
fix a leaky hose or just turn off the tap,
the roof creaks over head, are there
rodents in the attic, even in this heat?
The clouds that hang in the sky tonight,
will bring rain to jack up the humidity,
some one some where in their stupidity,
will be flying a kite, Ben Franklin style.
I hope he does not suffer for his enlightenment

So down the Hydro easement in a "house known
to police" something exploded and burns of the
second degree caused trauma and the air ambulance
came in low over our kitchen, shaking the walls
and dog, both have recovered nicely thanks

So they took the burn victim to the hospital
to get fixed up, wherein I ask is there a cure for
stupidity,
humidity, getting in my head,
if I did not have a portable AC
by my bed, not very green of me, eh?
Ooops now you know I am Canadian,
sorry, confirmed, I will just jumble my way
off to bed, I will let you get back to more
important stuff instead...



©DWE072013

I knew him because he was there...sometimes
in the morning drinking one of his sixteen cups
of coffee before I would go to school.

I knew him cause we would go camping sometimes
and the four of us and our dog would be in the station
wagon towing a tent trailer, to be set up and taken down.

I knew he was there sometimes when I joined cadets and
then the militia and...sometimes after I joined the CAF,
and less when I began to have a family.

I knew where he was when we were home... sometimes,
as he was cleaning his rifles or handguns, making beer
in the wine room, carving or tinkering with something.

I knew he was there...sometimes he and mom would
argue and their voices would be raised and we could
hear them through the floor, as they struggled with
reason.

I knew he was there...sometimes he would smoke
when he drank more than he should so I would
drive us home with my new licence, before that
he would do the driving.

I knew he was there in the hospital...sometimes he
would have seizures then the aneurysm that did not
take him but made him less able to be a father
and grandfather to our children.

I knew he was no longer there over twenty years
of a slow spiral down, to where the cold, cold
lay waiting...sometimes sooner for some and
later for others.

As  he lay on the bed in the care home he was
no longer there, cold to the touch, heart stopped
struggle quit,... sometimes I miss him, sometimes
I am not missing him, he was not the kindest,
and I made him my only dad... sometimes I
wonder if that was, my mistake.

The shimmer of blue changes
As you dragonfly move,
Your cellophane wings
Fragile, yet brings
You to me,
I cannot see the world
As you do, true?

You can see mine
            Just fine.
The sunlight
glints as the
Colour changes
To a different hue.

one moment
Green
The next
Blue

Dancing with you
As you float then soar,
is impossible ...
As you pitch and roll
Leave me entranced
As you exit...

Without saying so much
As goodbye,

Must mean,
You will,
Be back,
Soon.

Please.

I am distressed,
not like a piece of
furniture, treated to
look,
a certain way.

Appreciated, for its' age, or materials,
maybe the design details, like spirals,
in the corners, where the pieces neatly
meet together.

I am distressed, because the time I need,
I don't have, the money I have isn't
enough to buy time to do what
it is I need to get done
sooner than later,
alligator.

I am still road worthy
like a rusty bridge I heard
about, all my rust is intact,
ensuring that traffic, on my back,
will still be able to use me,
for years to come.

I am still distressed,
this did not help,
plug your ears
while I yelp,
like a lost dog,
not needing
food or water,
just time to
find my self.

where will you be when the sun crests my horizon,
where will you be so I can lay eyes on,
where will you be waiting.

When the sun rises so do my hopes and my fears,
when the sun rises I dry my tears,
when the sun rises I rest.

as the day flies past so fast, where will you be,
as I eat my meager meal with no appetite, where will you be
as I see the busyness of the world around me I wonder, where will you be

Will I see you before a thousand sunsets,
Will I see you or is this just one of life's tests,
will I ever see you, that glimmer when I chase the horizon.

One is alive the other is dead
First one's the lie,
the other was not heard,
don't go to F State,
don't let your kids out at night
     unless they can outrun a bullet.

you know
you are
in a bad
way when
that       happens.

So a jury of his, fears
the truth, because
a lie was told,
an investigation botched,
what else could six people do,
you might want to rethink that law
or orange state might pitch and yaw,
to get through
this, imbalanced scales, lifted high
while peeking from behind the fold
with one eye,

but have her ears gone deaf,
then every voice rise to speak,
because one voice was not heard.

cold-heart
Ice Just In
twisted inside out and backwards,
you might figure it out.

No, no, no, no, no, no
social justice
can fix
Ice Just In,
I don't want to do this
and stay polite,
wrong is wrong,
who stood for the others' rights?

Fortune is already there,
fame and a book tour,
no time to spare, oh
don't look for blessings
       ya'll were messing
with one of God's innocents.

don't you just hate it when one
person can make a whole state
look bad?  And don't call him a patriot.
From a place that is an aggregate,
                    how can this happen?

This just so complicated,
really the systems are implicated,
so many walk away brushing
the dust off their clothes, like
here was a waste of time.

it starts with one
sometimes,
no it does not stop, unfinished,
then another is
added,
that is now two, colours or media
background
three takes some time and becomes four then
five has some texture
or a hint of glint, ummmm, six
or is it the other
way around,
finally the focal
point
is placed, the same process, not just for show,
but the mystery
my friends,
lies in the layers,
(and in my prayers,)
for the artist,
life is a test,
if you miss it,
okay,
or interpret it
off and away,
she will stand
             under.
masks
help
her seem
normal
to the
madding
crowd,
layers she has
but is there
how many, try to count
till you can
find who
she is, so
meek and so
mild,
created creative
one of and not
the only, God's
child.

she lies at my feet,
I am the Alpha and
I am the protector
of the pack, this ten
year old pup, does not
like deep rumbles,
loud motorcycles,
or the idiots lighting
fire crackers,
fire works,
jerks.

But she lies at
my feet and has
stopped shaking
enough to sleep,
I don't mind being
the Alpha,
but I like it
better she feels
part of the pack.

darkly entering, crying what seems,
like a millions drops in one tear,
like non-stop festering,
on any of her wounds,
no, I have swallowed
a bitterness pill and
drank down a glass
of spite,
while she hangs on
weakly turning pages
to find that happy
ending, in a
Greek tragedy,
this isn't the circus,
it is bailing out the
leaky boat with
drinking
straws.

I rest enough to
catch my breath,
she catches a
tiger with a
too long tail,
and every scratch,
is infected with
the weight of the
world, she gets no rest,
give her a brake,
don't touch
her spoons, 'cuz
she won't make
IT
through
the day,
and what then
about tomorrow,
if she is not there
to let the sun rise,
and the sunshine in,
how will I know
that
we are all right.

picking up the baton,
bowing briefly to
the mass of people,
and my orchestra,
a smile stretched
across my face as
this moment I did embrace
as I raised my arms.
                                               to this dream come true.
instruments of wind,
elements of brass,
soft strings, percussion too,
faces looked at me with intent,
instruments and players
ready to do what they
love to do, play ensemble,
but the beats of my heart
grew excited with each
bar that was played,
the musicians and
spectators swayed as
I conducted.
                                       in this moment there was no other place.
truth be told, I was bold,
no one was watching me
unless from their window see?
a dog walk ended with
the graceful trees,
the gentle breeze; they
were moving to the music
which played in my ears,
my dog patiently sat, then laid down,
for those moments I was directing
the forest, the wind and fulfilling a dream,
being humbled by the natural symphony.

voices in hushed tones,
sound like the wind, blowing
heard but not a scene,
not loud or mean,
delicate breath breathed,
secret shared sounds,
a hummingbird,
a dragonfly,
a conspirator,
a love,
shhhhhhh,
listen and if you hear,
you might understand,
and if you do,
that changes everything,
a whisper,
is a power, an engine
of change,
or just plain rude!


©DWE072013

they may stop it all,
or make the price you,
pay so very high,
more expensive,
than a litre or gallon
of gas.

On your ***,
they will dump,
you, no not the
donkey kind,
they want to
take it all
from your mind.

Remember the sun that goes down,
rises morning after,
Remember that affection can go
further than affectation,
Remember that richness, tasted, drank,
read or breathed and lightly held,
make up the poetry of life.

Not all that other stuff.

she grates like a one of rusty metal,
and that is the voice I hear in my dreams,

water spill, pour, cascade from the flood,
there are more cracks in my dam life,

a community, safe and secure behind a,
welcome not; just the faces next door,
why not your whole neighbourhood,

over the fence under the fence or use the,
don't trespass in word or indeed,

Open your gates dear heart,
open your gates as to give
and receive,
open your gates to come in and
open your gates to go out exploring
the world in wonder, you drink with your
eyes and spill onto paper in inky words.

Open your gates so I can see a place I never knew,
Open your gates so dear heart, so I can rest with you,
That subtle curve, a smoky smile almost hidden,
then, ...
then you did open your gate. I was not dreaming...all this time.


©DWE072013

Sun bleached sheaf
SCHOOL's OUT scrawled
in pencil, as if an uncertain
secret message of summer,
FOUND!



©DWE072013

propellant in motion
add a spark
of metal on metal
ripped by a jagged                                          hole in this community,
with friction-less speed
and it all goes down hill

So much fuel and flame,
so much tears and
( who gets the blame, )                          not now pull together in humility
so much sadness,
such visible courage and strength.

Every one knew everyone,
they will be missed by all,
the cloud will not be forgotten
as it tried to carry your friends               and family away
the rolling blackness
the cars filled with blackness
will not remove them from your memories

When the rain
comes, when the
tears have emptied
out, and if ever your
grieving hearts feel all alone            just say the time it happened, out loud

and some one who hears
will be by your side to wipe the tears
and be still                             with you, in love of those,
                  until you are ready to go on again, and again
                                                           ­                 *resiliente

I watched the fog come in today,
pushing cold air out of the bay,
to where I stood barefoot, a traveler,
the sun became veiled, plans unraveled.

Cool May day at fifty two Fahrenheit,
fog shrank and shifted from grey to white,
rolled slowly  gaining size over crests of each,
rock face, all the way to every bridge and beach.

We chose a different path and drive,
Napa and Sonoma Valleys, so alive,
101 was the temp not the route,
stop counting the signs of repute.

I'll go back one day,
for in this life I have
                in no way,
tasted enough.

do not watch news, it won't make you a better person
it is not like a marriage to be made better or worse on,
unsure how to spend your day, other than electronics array,
lying on your bed with pillow comfort under your head to stay,
or sitting in a chair with simple ease remembering to breathe,
or floating on the ocean on a tube, not minding what is beneath.


©DWE072013

Walking in the bookstores, searching, questing, testing,
which book is the one, not for fun, or congesting,
IT will fill the hole in my dissatisfaction, it will give
meaning to an otherwise empty space filled by my warm

                                                                                      body.

I have been at this for years, sometimes I walk out with
less than I went in, other times I walk out with what I
bought and it is all for
naught and leaves me cold   to   the   touch,
                                     doesn't matter much,
in my dysthymic passive aggressive crunch.

I have Jesus, and I hope it does not take me
until eternity to have my ah-ha moment,
good or bad, don't point me at an omen.

Life is as fluid is the water cycle, and as
hard to find as the water table,
in the desert.

So how do I leave you;
I don't know the answer
to the impossible question,
a cramp in my digestion,
a cactus thorn in my side, doubt
not only clouds my mind and
evaporates my sound judge-
ment; but would I recognize,
or would it be discovered a surprise,
if I found what I was really
looking for.


  ©DWE072013

Day discovers night,
takes flight, blackness slowly crawls,
spotted by starlight


©DWE072013

trust, not used for so long, long coated in rust,
gatekeeper opens what squeals then shrieks,
sound like it is from inside of me,
I sit up from being prone on the concrete,
eyes closed afraid of who I'll meet, eye to eye
probably open twin pools to stare straight in to a mirror,

slab of concrete,
is my bed cold,
flat with no give,
may as well not
wake up, to the rot,
I smell, from my
own flesh, but
where was I oh,
yes
never trust a rusty gate,
or its keeper.

©DWE072013