Pedaling Man

A holiday afternoon bliss curled the Capitol

Cars hummed by, pedestrians shuffled across Rideau

The sun shone luxurious

Even the spires had color to in their tips

Past lunchtime by now

Sound and sight offered respite

The biker halted with the light

Lost in thought he waited

Body spilling over frame

Feet grounding his coiffed manner

It was him, an old friend

Swearing he crossed my mind moments before I approached

Pleasantries exchanged all seemed to pause

Tone almost awkward, speechless we became

He seemed beaten by the spirit yet showered

Defeated by something

Guilty in a longshoreman’s way

As if too many words had been said

And now he had to deal with permanence

Mercifully that light did change

He went his way, and I mine

Amusingly significant I thought, chuckling

With a blissful snap the hour returned

The creatures metallic and organic ticked once more

He must have moved back in with her. 

Clock

Wound hands tick neither fast nor slow

Moments bubble and recede with seen inevitability

Splashing the decks of my rational being

On and on the tock will flow endless as all can be

I am a mere steerage passenger on this grand voyage

Alone in the realization that time stands tall  

Dividing experience into corrugated half truths

The fruits still spill in the evening chorus of calamity

That confronts such a listless vessel

Every morning may rise with a mist

Carved with swollen eyes the sun will set

Judged to be joyless this existence traces circular

Around and around I absentmindedly foil the pockets

Those soggy instants of self-taught harmonization

That drop actualized thought beneath the layer time.   

Prince Street

Down Jamaica Plain way he took us one morning

The avenues were lined with pluming trees

Green with the season their branches shadowed the sun

It was my first time in this part of the city

Somehow I thought it had all been a bit more impoverished

What an idealist I am

This middle class village gave me a sigh

On the way out the squares seemed endless

Names like Harvard and Copley

Now on his street the trees still hung as they might

Protectors of his lost youth

Number nine was unremarkable

He had me park a short distance away

The names and years rolled from his tongue

Unfurling tales of his mysterious youth

On and on the tales spun

So and so lived there

The pond ice was checked by horses

Your great aunt lived there

After a spell he hushed and I put it in drive

Slowly our vehicle cruised past

My son in the back waved at the house

I turned to my father and nodded.  

Squirrel

Chef saw him first

Boom he shouted at the figure

Fists raised in a lonesome rush

The dark creature scurried high above the marble topped tables

Scaling the planters

Searching for a way through

Endless the teenager turned startled

Paused to see the unseen

Leapt across the high divide to the alley below

Mission busted by the vigilant

Above the planters and lattice was another patio

The music blared down on us

Assailing our taste

At least our young invader had failed

A chuckle was passed

All cover charge may not be avoided after all  

Our hands regrouped table side with ale

Easing with cushions we settled in

I and the cook

He in crisis I open eared.  

Snap

Adrift in thought

The tangible elements of me

Skin

Minute hairs

Pulse

Lose their place

A table setting askew

Time to check down  

Sift through the felt sense of reality

Balance this vessel

The warming sun strikes

A breeze waves through my mane

Chirping calls to my ears

Raw is the moment

Stinging with clarity

Opening salty eyes

I wipe away

Start anew with the seconds

Over and over

I must.  

Bill

Worked with a man once who spent time in prison

He was fresh out of the pen

Lifted weights for pleasure

Lived in a halfway house

Reported to the parole authorities on time

He liked my teams and had a mustache

Years ago he was high and blew a dealers head off

Kingston taught him a trade

He became near learned

The temptations still rose as they do in all of us

We joked and smoked together

Shared stories of our teams and a fair amount of drinks

After that period he began to worry

The board was on him

See he was to live to higher standards than me

He was tested and left my work

Heard down the wire that he’s hanging in there.  

5 am

Even felt was the stage I staggered from that fateful night

Peeling back the curtains the whiskey hi

Almost sputtering on the edge of an icy drive

Frozen was the dawn of a dastardly moment

Sure enough I became the vandal

Recognizing the labour of my own stupor

Weaving to the backdoor I punched at the code

Barking with the lowering moon

Chuckling at me

Given to the chill

I embarked on key retrieval

Found

In lock

Open

Stumble

I breathe

Crash

Bedside

Manner

Lost

On my

Primal release.5 

Beautiful

Washed streets surrounded our home

Always freshly rained on

In the city of permanent green

Blooming foliage was caged in every direction

A west coast sun leapt to the sky periodically

Creeping light across our bow

Fine sailors on this voyage

We’d nod to the walkers, off to Robson or Denman

Life was a smoked filled pearl

Youngsters in a walk up apartment

Vancouver our shell

Liquor the solvent

Powder the shimmer

Pot the fade

Days to night

Night to Days

Two chairs with each

Ever one to preach

She had a look
I leaved through a notebook.

Bob

Thought I’d swim the mile

Plunge into the beast

Shove off with flapping limbs

Preservers are for tyrants

On I swam with my barking head

Finally stopping removing all that bound

Naked in the cold middle part of it all

Where the breeze whimpers letting up with a screech

Distant shores protrude on either side of me

Insignificant bobbing beacons of polarity

Here in the midst I float

Weaving the divide, pattering my vision with the blue sky

Within minutes I surrender to the man in the bliss

Brother, you old friend, you are me

I know his face

A visage lost in the chattering songs

Of self-created annihilation

I missed you, am dying to meet you again

Walk right in

I took you from me.

Light

What do we say when the fears are near and dear

Splashing our conscience as an ebbing brook would

Foaming at the shores edge carrying a listless leaf into its midst

Such minute chaos in limited space

The pines stand tall guarding the dark recesses of habit

A hare leaps into the light of a cloudless midday

Leaving behind the warmth of its den

Thirst brings forth the tiny animal

To view such selection is to reason with progress

For a spell the highway lays bare in the distance

A helicopter may float on the horizon

Yet all is soulful at the forests divide

Peckers assault dead trunks beneath the canopy

Their cacophony steady as the breeze

The plodding creature bends by the water

Takes his fill and bounces off.  

A Thaw

This space is dripping

With force in the morning fog

Amulets from above rain down

Splattering the rising mercury

Often the trucks come through

Clearing the depositories that run beneath

Fear the flood their lights cry out

If not for the cold ahead

Spirits would bloom of earth and mind

A siren calls with this dawn

These clouds seemingly months ahead

Little left to do except listen

Thump come the drops

The beating drum beats

Beneath the roofs edge.   

Shadow

If I knew where you were would you call out to me

For as long as the rays seek down upon this snow

I drift wishing you were here

The wind may make me dance a jig

Or two with arms outstretched

Thoughts of you steady me

As if I could touch your form

From so far below

How much higher is one of us from the other

I wonder with the passing seconds

Perhaps I am above you at this point

Am I confusing myself with these reflexive skyward glances

Are you metres below

Hidden in some cavern of the mind

Then dig I must spilling the earth into piles

I picture the effort for spring will come

As certain as the lost cardinal in the birch

I know this for certain.  

Roof

Behold the heights where the wind is clear

Sweeping all with crisp cold

Delight in the minus sixteen

Whirl with the snow drifts

Meters ahead icicles curl nearly to the ground

The sun judges the morning

Face feels frost bitten

Swinging the shovel

The result is only heard by a thud on the piles below

A daring soul could have peered over the edge

To watch the forms fall

Fearing the fall I back away

Leaving the scene.