Earliest Recollections

Lansing Michigan, 1973
eating macaroni & cheese
in a damp basement
while adults whispered
windows shivered
radio crackled
and i wondered why
the tornado was coming
and then my memory began

night lake diving

freshly skinny white

leaping from the storm

the 2AM moonlight

fractures with the impact

the rocks below 

clarified by the 

glacial melt

jagged but deep enough

for divers and explorers

escaping ennui and malaise

 

on the shore bobbing over rocks

shook freed from constraints

the absence reveals

no barriers for the lubricious and clumsy 

emerging from the cold

to stumble on the wretched shore

where bullets won’t start a fire

only tinder and a spark

is all i can stammer

bay of flashing darters

Sailboats carving patterns

darters into waves which 

don’t seem to mind

Leaning over sideways

to control both power and time

 

Flocking into clusters

brushing past the buoys

like galaxies swirling 

spun by translucent kite-strings

Leaving tracers to catch a gaze

 

the stone mason

experiment invites 

me and strangers to rest awhile

only at lowtide when the waves release

a rusted boxspring fence and

gives way to me, the barnacles

and the bay of flashing darters 

handy for crabbing

The dock extends further

to make the crabs easier 

to capture

Waiting at Jericho

Green hulled sleeper

lulls along the darters

and sunnyday foghorn

Sailors waiting

papers aren’t order

sandwiches and waiting

waiting, watching

for the crackled word

we’re moving out

porch supper briefly

palm frond palypa

red snapper grill marked

smoking peppers 

rolled with twigs

Mexican word for hammer and nails

buying the claw hammer in bucerias

i learned 2 spanish words in advance

the boy, 14-ish shaggy haired

“do you need nails?”

“no just the hammer” 

learning the preferred Mexican term 

entirely different and dissonant

and unnecessary to the situation 

“you sold me tacks yesterday”

as though he’d care

 

considered like a bleeding toe

in a sandy crab pinch and attached 

to the words of nails and canvas

start of something

exquisite with the dignity of 

elegance and restraint

teasing out the extravagance

of innocence and youth

the wrong change again

each time laughing at

super mini

mary paz

3 avocados

and sack of 

dark beers

mango, rollies

spreading change

taking three times to 

count it wrong

leaning forward now

you lean forward

thick blades arch and thrust

you collared to the clouds

dappling your supple shadows

graceful valleys

no secrets

only tales to distract

away

my constant gaze

and eager intentions

i’ve seen the pathway (tired traveler)

i’ve seen the pathway
tis cobbled rocky and twisted
arranged enough to confuse
and mislead
but it leads
to the finest lands
you’ve ever dreamed

if you manage to stand
and can navigate by orion
you’ll arrive in the bay
left by bandits, fishers and seers
where abundance and tranquillity await
so replenish your weighted mind
tired traveler
and soak in the nectar of another
delirious day

Comfortably Lonely, Cabin Porch

Comfortably lonely, cabin porch
hard back book
foggy overslept hard back chair

backpack hangs on
a wooden peg
empty
but for deja vu

trembling hands
loosening clothes
fingers slipping
underside the clasp

coarse canvas dream
and well oiled leather boots
with high arches
moving away from here

even before painting
the rooms onto a circus tent
the tall poles cantilevered
and kids with summer suntan lines
on open feet

saguaro sunset scenery
flash by in a clackety-thwack 16mm print
Grandpa coughing, me
jotting down unessentials,
collecting pottery along the way

the movement is key i recollect
while stopping still and
tucking my boots
under a hearty mantle
of foreboding calm

betwen night and light

the space between
night and light
when bats dive like
fiery planes

battles over borders
foggy lines on faded maps
drawn by someone else
away for reasons
forgotton, arbitrary
false

rusting wreckage
overgrown by by jungle vines
reclaiming tools of sadness
seeking a final vestige of dignity
from deathly, slow grip

woodpeckers clamoring
waking bats firebombing
until sunrise

–
Lk Crescent 2004

Waiting Only Twice a Day

Trying to say
kind words,
“surely room for all”
waiting on the 15 Cambie
amidst dig and cover
moving one truck
at a time
one sinkhole

the battle-ax reserves judgment
“she jumped the line”
and continues,
“and people may be left behind!”
in fresh tarred reflected heat

Wonder and gaze to avoid the disagreement
She chortles,
“You must never wait here -
before now”

noting the stop moves most days
edging around impending tunnels
i aim to say,
“i’ve stood at each stop twice -
each day” recalling drizzle, sun and hail
but missed the chance
when we all fit aboard

standing up already

standing up already
prepared for something
classified as an unlikely event

“in the unlikley event” suggesting a guffaw
in less official communication …

an owl might
watch even if
nothing to see but
ripples, clouds
& forgotten identity

Coastal Starlight 2 hours late

Coastal Starlight
2 hours late
dropped into darkness
late after waiting

i could wait until tomorrow
but i’m ready to leave today

Nine dollars for small bottle
of California merlot
drinking into blackness
cabin eerie tranquil
knowing the commotion
inches below

in love with the girl at the deli

in love with the girl at the deli

buying 100 grams at a time
to peek under
her cap

pigtails poking
as running the slicer
ordered it shaved
to take more time

hiding to shyaway her eyes
so i can’t read her mind

change my route to think about the neighbourhoods

i change my route
from time to time
to think about
the neighbourhoods

switched Cambie 15
for Main Number 3
or Fraser if i don’t mind
cutting across Kingsway

skirted schoolgirls Xavier-bound
headphones sweater
in rows

downtown exchanges
spake in broken halts
sometime gleaming
often rain
occasionally sleet, hail or ice

noble bus driver

noble bus driver (probably steve or curtis)
said he might
scoop me up when running down
the catch up hill since they roll a minute or two earlier now

might be later he says
cause it might be slow
doesn’t ask me for a pass
7:54 on 29th and
st. andrew’s and the rainy
mountain side greenbough morning

solid bottom of the grandest canyon

yourself at the solid bottom of the grandest canyon
stark faced with the most ancient of conveniences

meandering up permitted
towards
groundswell 100degreeday waterfall afternoon

on the briefest flat of the trail