Underneath

Curious wonders abound with the clouds  

From beneath I can discriminate neither friend nor foe

Puzzled prying even further into their simplicity

I am struck by the nature of these inanimate decorations

Woven by a guileless sky

Narrow as I have been with my place setting in the hours before

I recognize these are minutes to consume

All that can be seen

Rudimentary is the object of me at such times

Weighing the wisps to the east

My sauntering eyes notice the thinness of each

Seemingly deceitful in form they fold onto themselves within seconds

Till the cyclic tide of creation exhales birthing yet another

I investigate the western front

Ballooning plumes dragoon the setting sun

Paternal in their expanding dominance

Colored an off putting white

Pocketing the inherent contrast I let the moments slide

Soon darkness will lope the last whispers of light

Leaving me to the night. 

Saturday Session

I sat down with a direction in mind

From within the flow was to prance forward

With positive judgement nipping from behind

Laborious the task seemed as I drew my first blank

Curled fingers gnawed at my core

Scratching the deadened mind inside

Creativity was my foe

Wrestle did we over words and phrases

Each taking a turn leading the way

Him with sombre emotions

Me with lively description

Till the minutes passed

And I left you with this

To use as you may.  

Boreal Blonde

Backing up with the times smoke filled the brasserie

Channelled mugs swung to lips with forced delight

At two in the morning popcorn littered the greased floor

Sprawled with stick in hand I was gone

A vagabond in search of a hole

Sharpening the moment blue flakes twirled to the floor

The chalky residue of sobriety long lost

Wooden stool creaked beneath my frame as I rose

Spilling towards the table

Green felt dotted with racing balls

Elevating myself still lower I surveyed my shot

Felt like throwing it all away

No tangible reason except it was the season of loathing

Changes were coming of that I was certain

I threw St. Laurent a look

Snow flew beneath streetlamps

Bending a balanced pose I leaned in

Drew back and let go striking my shot.  

September

Arriving in a  blanketing mist

The dew is stout

Perched perilously atop the shimmering blades  

Of a once sun starched lawn

These mornings beckon the added layers

 For comfort has little a season

Curled breath’s steam the dawning of day

Tiny figures with canine approach lead the master

Walking with solar light he studies his exhales

The work is laborious

Focusing his blurred consciousness by choice

Rising it curls with escape

Till the moment apexes

With vanishing memory

The years have cycled him here

To northern avenues

Far from the winds of despair

Beneath the leaning elm he takes it all in 

Footing the anniversary of his mother’s death.

Train

I have an engine in my head

It whistles in the peaceful hills terracing the beauty seen

Sending off plumes of smoke in the midday reverie

With my internal bell I grasp at snapshots

Sweeping fir trees parade from the valleys

Soldiering beneath the tracks

A pickled stream churns underneath rising tracks

Pinked salmon run the course with bubbling flight

The bridge to a granite cliff rattles with our progress

Heights sewn with the fabric of fear

Minutes lost with the axle

I wonder if momentum will cease

All stations vanished with the sunrise  

I am little more than a passenger on this journey

Breathing like the rest

In search of respite from desire

A soul longing for a station. 

Thirst

I stall on the corner by St. Catherines

Tedium releases with the calming breeze

Ten o’clock, a Saturday night

The waking city flares with activity

Unquenchable spirits cruise past in luxury vehicles

Young men grouped in black ties and pretty hair, wait for the crossing sign

Laughter fills my ears, as I picture their night

Drinks pour from chrome canisters

Music loops from hidden speakers adding to the colourful scene

Women with luscious lips take easy sips from martini glasses

Their youth entrances me, tickling my minds eye

I take a drag of my smoke trying not to choke on my lust

Jelled spiky looks and crisp white shirts

Dollar shined loafers and sparkle mined wrist watches

With a cohesive saunter they depart at the signal

Leaving me and my form.