Listen, until your eyes
glisten, until your heart
of stone cracks apart
so open, so you do more, than try to
listen.

That you have a love of music. Feelings.

Find songs from every genre,
grind out the beats and honour
the composers genius and form of math
fill the tub, light a candle, sit in a bubble bath.
(if you are a guy, bath bubbles are cool)

Watch your wine shimmer to the sonic waves
while you contemplate doing this again and again.

Towel tied, move your body to the beat that calls your name
Find as much music, acoustic from across the world, this globe
Grind away the time, watch life as your taste for notes unfolds
There is much to absorb, learn lyrics, take your time, no shame.

May you fill your home with sounds, summer, fall, winter and spring.

Turn the volume, let it vault to the sky so you hear,
the burning pain, in the artist’s vocals were clear
to share, from acoustic to symphonic beware not all might
be fair, for the sounds of ‘silence' they aggressively fight
instead of learn.

And you now, yearn to sing along while discovering
the perfect chord, the perfect key.

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"