Y.. you want me?
All the little  broken  bits.  Youll take  them
For free?
Youll wrap my wounded heart in yours
Help close all those broken doors
Show me i can sail to such foreign  shores
Are you really what i need?

He opened his mouth and out fell,
The answers I had been waiting for all of my life.
They tasted bitter, but fuzzy at the tips,
Tickled my mind.

This time, I believed him.
We all did.

The familiar small towns,
On the way
To Georgian Bay,
Have gone;
Box store intersections sprawl
Where General Stores once served.
It's hard to find pie and coffee,
To watch the cows come from the barn,
Or comment on the standing corn,
Of a late September morn.

Wasted, used, abused, freed without heed
Energies bound in places unknown, people unseen, needed
By those who expended energies for the sake of love
happiness, greed, cruel deeds
Insatiable passions to keep our minds closed, a finality
Alas, do we call it finally, a curtain call or the first dance
The beginning of a repartee that will entrance
Enrapture, entice
Before long bodies entwine, leaving a trail of  vice
Nothing imagined, something gained,
Freedom friend, that’s what you are
Endless possibilities for the mind
Wandering souls for knowledge to bind
Keep me close for never will i find
A freedom friend quite like mine

The house, old and gray,
Sits back in a field
As houses did then,
Before cars came to compress the day.

From here I see the woods,
The river’s run, the spiral of the valley
Under clouds of rolling snow
To the road the machines come through.

I think I will stay here tonight
To keep company with the house,
And recreate the goodness of our small love,
To be ready for them when they come.

Yet I fear when they come
I will only say I came to watch
Machines destroy a house
Built with someone else’s small love.


© 2016

On a flat gray sea a freighter moves
     to feed, to care, to improve,
     sunlight gone, lights blaze,
     against the careless sea
     the freighter goes, little by little.


© 2016

girls with buzz cuts singing along
to beach house
the air thick with eccentricity
and anarchy
their painted nails beginning to chip slowly
like the minds of the older folks that are
too engrossed with their holy books

smart mouths and their pretentious words

they make you want to kneel and pray
but you know other things that you would rather
be doing with your hands
like
reaching for your dreams
or punching some guy's face for telling you to
smile, pretty lady

and

boys with long locks crying to
armageddon
the blue sea spilling out from their red eyes
their shirts splattered with distress and
confusion

mostly from people who are built like big boulders
and war tanks

too upset to see one of them crying
but you know other things that you would rather
be doing with your anatomy
like
building homes with pretty gardens
or sewing a dainty dress for your niece

The scrutiny is toxic,
it builds up like tar in her weakened lungs
she can't breathe
when everyone else steals the air right from her
and replaces the purity with rotten words that make her blood curdle
the scrutiny is toxic
she tries to brush it off
but it won't work
she can't breathe
please stop the scrutiny

these days
looking around the globe
one might believe that we are travelling in time

just in the wrong direction

regression as progress
seems to be
the dominant notion of the day
creating wannabees in various disguises
     populist czars, sultans, nationalists, dictators,
     assorted self-appointed snake-oil salesmen
     and saviors of their peoples’ wealth and health,
trumpeting fences, walls, tough immigration laws,
etc., etc.  
to keep out all those aliens

     who otherwise are welcome
     as our partners in the global trade
     that seems to dominate the world of greed

so we can all be ourselves

     whatever that might mean

claiming to solve the problems of tomorrow
     with romanticized memories of yesterday
is hopeless and quite dangerous

do you remember
what that glorified past
actually was?

Don't be hindered by your success being unrecognized. Just remember that no one stares at the sun when it is the brightest.