Don't look in the rear view.
It's there, in front of the windshield,
That looks to the immediate future.
I sit between the two,
With the past in the mirror,
And the simultaneous future
Over my hood,
And my wheels spin,
I'm moving.
Trees and people jostle
From front to back, continuously.
Road signs are a blur
As the air pushes the world aside
Like lace curtains,
Like love,
Enduring through unintended consequences.
A simple gesture,
A mustard seed,
Growing.
Like crystals, connecting,
Dissipating into one.

The Creature from the Black Lagoon,
Whom they call Asset,
Meets Beauty,
Whom they call Eliza, who does little,
Except frees Asset's willie.
Del Toro has certainly pulled the bull over our eyes.
Two hours of my life I'll never get back.

Teachers, good teachers,
Have it without throwing chalk.

Significant others use it daily
For Yes, or No.

You don't want to see it
In your Doctor's eyes.

Priests had it
Til we saw through the lies.

Superman has it in double.

Betty Davis had it.
Trump doesn't.
All the Kennedys did.

Parents use it
In the rear view mirror,
Or church,
Or anywhere they believe
Kids should be seen and not heard.

When children have it,
We're exposed,
And so is Santa.

One can't cultivate it.
It's as natural as our first breath,
And lasts til our last.

Aliens know
From observation
The majority
From every nation
Live their lives
In fear
For a life not here,
Not now.
We keep our lives
In control
By old beliefs,
Not what we know,
But numbers
Shrink and grow.
That's how we're held
In law and order,
To keep our souls
From hellish horror.
We keep the Alien
In the sky,
Or party on
At Mt. Sinai,
Worship a
Triangled eye,
Hold a dance
For Salome.
We wear chinking vestments,
We wear them
For the rest of us:
The gates are quickly closing,
A foggy wind is blowing
Across an Alien sky.

A light cracked the door,
And we heard:
"All rise."
He was experiencing Justice
Behind the glass, in a box.
He scratched and stretched
Skin over his eyes and stubbled face,
Needing a fix for his appearance.
Something was unbalanced
Before me.
Our view was that of figures bending,
Whispering inaudibly,
With ear pieces and muffled mikes,
Suspending us, and time.

At recess we talked of trials and errors,
And recalled the blind man's bluff;
Then someone called us over.

A solemnity plea was set before the judge.
Did he hear:
"Just over the limit...
Machines have a rate of variability..."

He wore no belt or laces,
And probably no socks.
That could make him unbalanced.

"All rise."
Again and again.

I almost fell to my knees,
Pressed and raised my hands
To surrender.

And I was just a witness.

Maggie's getting married,
All is much too harried;
But the dress is on,
The veil undrawn
Untill all words are spoken:
A vow, a pledge a promise made
To love and cherish all her days,
To love and cherish all his days,
From these chiming bells
To eternity's knells
Before friends and families.
But most importantly,
After the debris is clear,
To one another they will be
Loyal and true in fidelity,
And, by their own decree,
One in matrimony.

The boyfriend spinned the tires
On my daughter's car
As they sped to meet their plane.
I watched the tail lights
Fade into the falling snow,
And prayed,
For the power of prayer.

To begin, you cannot buy a friend.
You cannot rent a friend.
They are spontaneous,
Like combustion, or
Cultivated by life-long learning.

You can't cheat a friend.
You actually cheated a stranger, and
Yourself.

You can lie to a friend, but
It's temporary.
(I ended a lie by telling
The truth in the same sentence), or
It could take longer.

You can't steal from one.
You probably gave or
Loaned it in the first place.
Besides, it just doesn't happen.
See reason above for cheating a friend.

You can't, I hope,
Physically hurt your friend
Because of the mirror-like
Honesty they reflect.
That is prima motivum
For a friend.

It could be difficult
To befriend a friend's friend,
But for your friend's sake,
You're friends, or
Okay acquaintances.

Befriend the young and elderly,
The less fortunate, and
Be careful with strangers, but
Don't rule them out.
Be friendly.
And,
When you're a friend,
Be a friend.

There's no hurry
For one to worry
About the end
Of days.
Is there Spirit?
Will we meet?
Will you have wings
To lift your feet
To prance and dance
On sheep-shaped clouds,
Or put a halo round my head,
Lift *******
To raise the dead,
To incarnate,
Transmigrate,
Regenerate.
I'd be okay
To disintegrate,
Adding mass
To a world
Growing in depravity,
And losing its gravity.

If I had but twenty-four hours,
Who would I call?
Each daughter would take a year;
The brothers and sisters would yammer
For a month each;
Every friend would spend a week
Re-hashing our adventures and antics;
Favourite teachers and colleagues
Would like longer, but I can't afford more
Than a day per;
All others, except my detractors,
One minute,
The latter,
One second,
And with them,
All,
I'd need another lifetime.

If Cupid's arrow
Hits a sparrow,
He 's blind.
That's  injustice.

When the wind
Shouts down the leafs,
I hear.

If clouds mass
In formation,
I see.

As the ground
Rolls its fat,
I feel.

Should the rain
Reach my lips,
I taste.

After  bees
Give birth to scents,
I smell.

Near you,
I'm senseless.

Do you scan
With speeding eyes;
Looking for consonants -
Some are silent,
And the y
Can be an i.
Then you're lost
Between the capital
And the period,
Remembering names
And deeds,
But missing the resonance,
The nuance of character
And motive,
The results.
Curling up with
Paper or screen
Is not a race
To the ribbon.
It's an adventure.
Flip back,
Re-read
The good parts.
Discover
The Aha moments.

The Sixties were hip.
Perhaps too hip with the ****** revolution.
It seems today's allegations of ****** misconduct
May spring from that mind-expanding era.
The fingers are pointing back to then,
And who knows what who was doing with whom,
Listening to Purple Haze
Through clouds of smoke, shared needles, and blotter;
Bra burning, card burning, flag burning.
The things one remembers after
So many years of clearing the cobwebs.
Did I get a ***** back then and kiss a girl?
Did I invite a girl up to my room?
Did I touch a girl while dancing?
(OK. I probably snuck a *****, but hey, so did she)
I'm lucky I didn't get into politics or acting.
It turns out free love was like lunch.

When does the best come out:
A scream? A shout?
When in judgement of our friends,
Animals and sibblings;
Or teachers and politicians,
Seldom in Amen.
So often in the end.
So now, before me,
Me, with your first steps,
The same who dressed you,
Then drove you when the sun rose,
'Til the lid closed,
On many we loved best.
We have years to go,
'Til what rest
Comes out,
After so much consternation.

You feel what's not there,
Or,
Not feel what is.

I have something systemic
That's not an emotion I know.
It's more than a feeling,
It's a metaphoric something,
Not literal, more figurative.
Empathy is close;
And it's certainly not sympathy,
That's too aristocratic and snobbish.
I could compare it to an older sister
Moving into her own bedroom;
Or an older brother vanishing
On the first day of school.
For example, I visited my friend, Oafy
In the nursing home.
He had his shoes on the wrong feet,
And he didn't care,
But I did. That sensational something
Is the gist of my systemic something.
It's human, probably universal,
Rational, not inane.
Mothers, I understand, sense it.
Fathers, being one, too.
Humanitarianism is a big part of it;
So is altruism,
But it's bigger than charity.
It's a connection with all the senses,
But real beyond cognition.
It's a field-tested faith,
But I don't know what to call it.

Your eyes aren't stars
That eclipse the night;
Your lips aren't balm
That soothe my blight;
Your ******* aren't downy
To allay my fright;
Your arms aren't limbs
For carving your fight;
Your legs aren't vices
That hold me tight.

But you are the embodiment
Of a poet's delight.

I'm disappearing.
Bit by tiny bit.
I'm becoming a mosaic
Of technological parts.
I'm not bionic,
I've a real heart;
But aids help me hear;
Implants help me chew;
Stainless steel lets me kneel,
I wear specs to see you.

Nothing man-made can last;
Not like mountains and forests
That don't need my resources.
You may say these things aren't living, as such...
But you'd be wrong.
You may argue I am not living as such...
You'd be wrong again.
I need batteries and oil,
Scripts or x-rays to prove it,
But the proof is there.
I'm shedding skin, losing hair,
Have diminished hearing and sight;
My legs are sore and tired and my back...
Oh my back...
Yes, I am disappearing
And will be remembered for a generation;
As my grandfather was with me.
When my brain disappears,
So will he.

We have only ourselves.
Our universe
Is on borrowed time.

I am Canadian. We are considered polite.
I will remain so here.
We are a socialist democracy.
You, a capitalist democracy.
Our Prime Minister makes mistakes.
He's comparatively young. He takes good council.
He speaks of what he knows,
And knows when not to speak.
He can be mean (depending), but never cruel.
He has great wealth, but neither flaunts nor hides it.
When he equivocates or lies, he knows it.

We have all the amenities of a capitalistic society,
With the security and comfort of our social pluralism.
Our youth enrol in a free and fine education.
We have no rich or poor school districts.
We have no security guards or metal detectors.

We are not an economic super power.
We do not influence worldly affairs with an itch or a sniffle.

Our Senate is powerless (enough said).
Authority and power lie in the multi-party system;
Each chooses its leader.
We don't vote for the Prime Minister,
But every four years (and many times less) we can vote one out.
And get this: sometimes the party changes horses midstream to rein in getaways.
A coup d'état is almost impossible,
Unless we get invaded for our fresh water.
We're not nuclear armed,  but when called, the Forces are tenacious.
We're not war mongers. We really do prefer peace.
Our former P.M. won a Nobel for coming up with the idea of a U.N. Peacekeeping Force. That's a real one.

We have serious problems like you. At times, the innocent and the guilty get hurt; that's never good.  And believe me, we support most of your political initiatives, domestic and foreign, and your peaceful demonstrations. We know pain too.

I know you love your country. And you have **** good reasons.
Most Canadians love you too, and we are very worried about our southern neighbours who treat us so well when we visit west of the St. Clair River.
We've helped you when you were in need; when your country was under attack. We are your good neighbours with good fences. We will always be there for you and whatever Democracy you choose.
Please, choose wisely.

Bless America

If one comes
Between
A man and his dog,
One would be a target.

Should one come
Bbetween a man
And his cat,
Well,
That's
Something
Rarely heard of.

I was co-joined
By an isthmus of words;
Ringed as an island.
If I walked away,
I was snapped back;
If I rolled over,
I was chosing sides;
Getting dressed
Was a dialogue;
Eating was identical.
But now,
Now that the separation
Has set in,
I'm next to an idiot,
I'm beside myself.

If you've lost someone,
Check out the Personals.
Keep your eyes to the ground;
Only tourists look around,
There we'll find the jetsom
Of someone's empty pocket.
A book of Vegas matches
With the middle ones missing;
Neither left or right-handed.
You'll not be found.
There are tissues,
Stained with mascara,
Lying
Beside beads from a broken necklace
That gilded your skin.
You'll not be found.
Blowing across the path
Are shreds of paper
From the note she wrote,
Swirling towards the river.
Chase them to the bank,
Watch them float
Towards the falls.
The meaning is smeared, blurred
Then lost.
This is what finds me out.

There was a young lad
Lived next door
In his parents' basement.
We saw the flicker
Of his screen
Through his curtain window.
He had two jobs,
A license too,
But drove their car
As they had two.
He wasn't one to get out much,
He hadn't many visitors,
He seemed out of touch.
In school he wasn't a head banger,
He presented his doppelganger.
Secretly he worked his game,
Perfected it to bring him fame.
Now everyone says his name.

There's no need
For anxiety.
Congrats.
You are
The Daily.

We're still stars
Running track:
Leaning forward
Glancing back.
The timer's thumb
Is poised to press:
I'll run with you
'Til my last breath.
Across our path
Like a finish line,
Wait all the loves
We left behind.

It just doesn't feel like love
Without the palpitations
And loss of breath,
When you still had a shine
Like an unwrapped gift.
I don't feel the tingle
With your presence,
Or the anticipation of your call.
It just doesn't feel like love
Until I see old pictures,
Hear old songs,
Pause home movies.
So, I will bring ribbon home,
And tie a bow,
Wrap you like a new gift,
Like someone I once knew.

When you find peace in my arms,
Deny chance.
I craddled seedlings to the table
By weeding.
I made undirected costume changes
And revealed a mask beneath skin.
I opened doors for children and the aged.
I played, and sang along.

When you find comfort in my arms,
Deny luck.
I helped lift the disenfranchised,
Extended deadlines,
And refused entitlements.
Causes wore away my soles
Carrying loved ones both ways.
We buried hatchets between friends.

When you find love in my arms,
Deny coincidence.
I learned from teachers
Love is manifest in sacrificess
Wrapped with obligation.
My arms are tired,
Yet I will embrace all.
And thus, I caress you.

Who dares enjoy your gold with you?
What good is it Midas? It's contaminated.
When will you, if ever, enjoy it again?
Where is your preferred seating now?
Why persist with your follies? Don't touch me.

Not listening!
Any jack-***
Can carry
Heavy burdens
Without braying.

Have you found a new mythology.
The ones we knew died off.
Hammers, thunder, nails,
Multi-limbed gods of gold,
And phoenixes have turned to ashes on my tongue.
My eyes don't dilate, my throat closes.
Once we were blessed, but now,
John A. is a white supremacist.
Not since Dunkirk and Troy have wars worked miracles.
A Hard Day's Night and Help are formulating a following
Surpassing Jesus (John, Ch. 1. Verse 1).
Look to the Walrus.

When I lose something,
I gain.
This isn't Karma.
Let me explain.
Lose greed,
Gain charity.
Lose despair,
Gain hope.
Lose hate,
Gain love.
You see how it works.
Lose anger,
Gain peace.
It's exponential too.
Lose a negative.
Polarize.
Be positive.

When you speak
I break the conversation contract.
I hear nails on chalkboards,
Babies crying,
Or a mosquito in my darkened room.
Anyways is not Anyway;
Quote is not Quotation;
Anythink is not Anything;
Who is not Whom;
Whom is not Who.
It's hard to listen,
And I don't apologize.
English has gone to the dawgs.

There was the first look,
     It snapped by in a second;
There was the second look,
     It was alluringly fecund.
Like reading page one again
     On the face of a friend;
Don't close the book,
     Take a second look.

The same ones
Are always the anarchists.
The dissatisfied,
The disenfranchised.
They share the same beliefs:
More power through struggle.
We are the same too -
Collateral damage.

520 000 is Unjust
520 000 + 1 is unjustly better.

Let it go like a red balloon
Released to celebrate;
Follow 'til it dissipates
Into the vacant blue.

Unhand the kite string,
The struggle with elements subsides.
Let it go as if it died.

You know you tried,
Some things broken aren't worth fixing;
Admit to yourself you don't like it,
That one day never comes.
Do not expect a certain result,
Life happens as it was meant to unfold.
Just let it go, like gossip, like fear;
Dependency is detrimental.

Tear down the museum of victim mentality.
Stop comparing,
Stop people pleasing.
Let it go.

What's not to enjoy
Being alone,
Unshaved, slippered,
With kettle on.
Outside, the elements,
And all that's with us,
Continue on.
I'll rejoin.
For now,
With self and tea,
I'm me.

X-ing
X-ref
Luxury
Generation X
X-ray
Xmas
exam
fax
xenophobia
Xerox
Faux
X Rated
X's and O's
Xian
X is the unknown
Xmit
X-files
Malcom X
3 x 2
X, IX, VIII

But if you've lost something you treasure,
Then X marks the spot.

You know you shouldn't ask that question.
You know you force me into a lie;
And in the middle of my patent answer,
You cry.

You know I couldn't be mistaken.
You know I try to see your surprise;
But before I can finish my lie,
You cry.

There doesn't seem to be any escape.
We act together with little debate;
But the answer is always the same,
I lie.

You don't love me any more.
I don't love you any less.
More or less?
Which is best.

You've always said:
You told me that already.
You're repeating yourself too much.
Have you early stages of dementia?
And yet, you want to hear,
I love you, everyday.

It's early in the day.
The birds chirp Spring awake;
The trees are in their underwear,
They've yet to brush their teeth.
The rain will wash their faces;
Right now they're a disgrace.

He moves slowly in the morning,
Scratching bark and boles;
He ambles to the frozen lake,
Before donning fine green clothes.

Spring is waking up now,
Sap's running from his nose,
Spring is waking up now,
Rubbing blurry eyes,
Spring is waking up now,
And winter's in repose.

Strip veins and bury
bulbs and hatchets.
What of winter?
Think of May
And Mary and water
That washes the sweat
cascading between
Your eyes, and down
Your nose, and across
Your belly.

Look deep into the eyes of
March.
So deep that it alienated
Another's life.
Pedal to pagan sands
of worship.
Wear dark glasses.
Watch Mary cup the wines
of winter, squeeze the
harvests of summer.
Worship the vericose veins
that clutch the last leaf
on the last tree.

A father is a tree.
He is sappy at times,
And once distilled,
He's sweet.
He radiates limbs
To provide shade
And shelter from harm;
His roots are deep
And nourishing.
He is oak and willow,
Fruitful and sharing.
But most of all,
He hugs like bark.

I lift pens.
(You can never have enough of them)
Funeral Homes leave them lying around. They're the only good thing about Visitations.
Banks tie them down, but there are others, here and there.
There are those who want to take your pens too.
People with petitions are always asking to borrow a pen.
They want my ink and blood.
Be sure you get yours back.
I have a legit fountain pen collection.
Proud of my Parker I got in Oxford years ago,
During a different life that lead to this one.
Biff Loman lifted Mr. Oliver's pen,
After his epiphany.
Just runs in and steals it.
Am I a tragic figure as well?
Are we all playing our parts in
The Death of a Nation.

The girl at the check out
Clutching the chips and dollar
Gives me an ache
Like a warning shot
In my stomach.

The boy keeping up
Behind his brothers
Gives me an ache
Like filling a balloon
To capacity.

The ******* duel-bladed skates
Bundled like the Michelin Man
Pushing a chair
Gives me an ache
Like a rip in my father's heart.

The one on the hall floor
Eating before his locker
As the gang's off to McDonald's
Gives me an ache
Like an airborne ball
As the buzzer sounds.

The one in the corner of the class,
With cuffs pulled down
And a tattooed razor blade
On the back of the neck
Worries me.