Here, a room
a floor bed near a window
On, a radio
a cacophony of voices down low
A glass of red
A notebook and pen
A resting nest
An introspection
A pack of we’ll see
A lamp to illumine
A night vision
A solo tour
A hovering
A view of two tall winter trees
A crosshatch sky
An obscured moon
On the wall, a clock
An hour and minute
An absence and presence
A ritual
A candle flame
A flickering reflection
A faraway
A song sung
The CBC
Nine oh three
Nine oh three
Nine oh three
Who is there to ask
for definitions not yet discovered
A lonely imagination
pausing to look out upon darkest night
What layers comprise
perfection in form or grace or sound
Spirit of winter
Instruments built from ice of frozen lakes
cut from their melancholy depths
Are there screams
echoing from the drawings to surface
Is there acquiescence
breathless upon a reluctant entrance
And why forever
is it never quite good enough to placate
Our perpetual longing
like Alcyon waiting for Ceyx
If you have a bell, ring it
If you’ve a vision, sketch it out
If you’ve a story, speak it
If you’ve an idea, expandexplore don’t doubt
If you’ve a song to sing, sing it
Shine your light
This is your contribution to life
No matter what
No matter who
You alone validate you
A single light in the darkness
Might become two
Someone stirs Poet
imagining her a steamy soup made from river water
He only need stir and wait stir and wait
Boiling sends germs skyward
or so Someone has come to believe
Chains without locks unsteady his focus
but the jingling is comforting, a burden endured willingly for the prize
Red-winged blackbird alights in the hemlock’s shade
his song urging shuffling, then a reluctant stumble of a dance step
Oh distraction! Someone sways in reverie
disturbing the balance of malcontent
Poet escapes while Someone shakes a wooden spoon
that is not a spoon but a rattle with a song
Someone lifts a heavy head of grey anger
resisting the fragility of whispering clouds
Not yet has awareness opened wide enough
to notice Poet has taken the chains
Not yet Someone notices new lightness
Possibility in steps
Sun after long days of rain and I
stood close to pots overflowing with new open blossoms
Admiring
But the shapes scattered across the steps were what I photographed
Wondering how these pieces fit together
I heard you singing a song whose melody spoke to me
Sunlight upon your door beckoned to move closer in
I heard your voice fall and rise in a language unfamiliar
Echoing distant quiet longing
Who were you then
Where are you now
Hesitation leaves opportunity unresolved
Are you singing still
Is the song the same
Wonder is the gift you gave me
No scenery
out this window
No inspiration
planned for me
No green
No blue
No sunrise or stars
No midnight moon view
No windsong gently swaying
between leaves of tall trees
Ah but I can still find beauty
in the quiet lay of these red bricks
I can imagine
careful hands that set them here
I can count them
I can find marks unique in each one
I can watch shadows for hours
as days and seasons pass
And I can find light
shining back from my Wall
clear through my window
straight into me.
Golden mornings may come
but for now
Full moon’s shining
get some sleep if you can
and stay safe in the glow…
I will cultivate my garden here
in the tilted light
to see if anything grows
and maybe, if it seems alright,
I will return again someday–
Plant everything I know.
Shoes are optional
No one stands guard
No entry fee or protocol
you you You arrive
Ask: is this my home?
Is this the beginning of the journey—My Journey
—Is it The End?
Not much on offer in view
Many before you have crossed
Limestone is reliable shelter
You could enter settle stay
While you contemplate others’ bones sink deeper
These walls are reinforced by thousands
who arrived hesitated undecided lived died calcified
Are you hungry?
Is imagination driving you forward or rendering you static?
Is your heart—
you remembered to bring it, yes?
Is your heartbeat a barely detectable murmur or a drumline of thunder?
What are the lyrics to Your Song
or have you not yet written them in invisible ink upon Your Skin?
You willed yourself here
Look around
You are alone but for birdsong wind green leaves clay and stone
bteatne
Repeat
It means nothing
Inhale now stretch clench your jaw close your eyes
Howl until all breath is spent
Then step one foot in front of the other as though
you know Your Intention acknowledge it
as You Walk with confidence toward The Light
Time is fading and despite appearances The Journey is long
rife with tricksters detours delays poor signage distractions
Your purpose is not singular
Your path is not direct
and Life is positively short.
Pencil Notes 