Every town needs a Mini Flea. A place full of stuff. Where you can rummage and go through - someone else’s stuff... Shelves are so crowded, there’s no room for more. Stuff piled to the ceiling, and spread on the floor. Turn every corner, to look up and down every aisle. Some stuff has been there forever, you’d see it each time. But then you look closer, and see some sort of shine. Looks like a treasure, that you want to call mine. You walk up to the cash and ask Jack for the price. He wasn’t quite sure so he’d turn to his ma. She was just sitting outside, been smoking …
Poetry
Encroachment
Encroachment. On both sides of the water. Nothing holds them back. Nature had attempted a comeback from previous industry but commerce quickly stepped in and stopped that. As usual, the almighty dollar thinking it knows better. Echoing: Green is gold. Green is gold. Common sense fails. The sounds of progress and a quick buck got to them. Just another former wasteland they say. Better than into the forest just past they say… But it is going into the forest just past. Encroachment is on all sides. The Stawamus Chief looks down and sees past the fools gold. He sees the forest being …
Chïïwas, Skwxwú7mesh
Old story: Words too often abused come from the masses… The damage is done. Patch it up, build over it. Hide it’s former disgrace. What could possibly go wrong? The machine continues. Many blinded. Gullible to their offerings of all things shiny. Something “sustainable,” “mutually beneficial,” “contemporary.” A place where you too, could “belong…” Comes with various price tags of course. Some, more damaging than others.This same story, manipulated in different ways spreads like a virus. To suit one's own. Creeping, embedding itself into our so-called logic and reasoning.Until …
Right under our noses
Polar bear swim, Nexen Beach, Squamish, B.C. New Year’s Eve, 2019. Capital powers work themselves, right under our noses. The crowds, oblivious. Or perhaps, willfully ignorant. They chant in unison. Here to have a good time. Need to revitalize my own. Understandable… This pace is demanding. I hear the trucks now. They’ve been coming for a long time. In and out, in and out. Bringing materials and resources displaced from someone else’s backyard. Doing it because it is what they’ve always done. Puts food on the table… Never enough however. There’s always this void that remains. Build it …
A Birds View
Geese fly free above the clouds, mingled with trees, wind, machinery of the present day. Are they oblivious to the madness happening below their noses? Or do they not care and simply fly past in willful ignorance to escape? Perhaps they know wiser, thereby continuing on with their innate direction and ways of being that have proven to work for their time immemorial. Upon their spring return, the birds fly in silent mode, shocked by the tomfoolery below, the nonsense, the chaos… that serves but one species. The trees that they once soared through and above are no longer, their waterholes …
Montreal Man
You looked upon arrival. Towards me, sitting quietly. Nervously feeding baby with one hand, dreaming with the other. You wore a scarf.Our tables facing each other. Two empty tables between us. Space filling with imaginations. Eyes wandering towards me. Towards you. Your scarf wrapped just so. Around this neck meant for other things. Is he playing with me, this man whom I see? No such man sees the invisible one, alone with child. Unbearable this dream. Teasing. Feeding the desire, I look back. It’s real. Unimagined. They rise to leave. All of them. You too. While paying your eyes …
Arrival
What a surprise to see your face. as I come around the corner. A daydream stumbled. Awoken now. As if out of slumber. On the brown bench you sat. Black jacket draped just so, over huddling knees. The cold not allowed to creep in. Sitting patiently, as if waiting for a bus. but there was no bus to greet you. Only me. Who finally showed up. …
You
Twin souls in unison, weaving in and out of a crowded field. Unknown to each other. led by an invisible pulling; walking out of curiosity. Blind to the leash held by the hands of god. quietly leading. now urgently. Unknowingly, towards the other. …
souls unite
There was a warmth between us that felt eternal. Twisting around and within, it spread with a soft deliciousness that filled all our cracks and holes. Our spirits shaped themselves into their natural existence of no beginning or end. The comfort of our own skins allowed our bodies to move with grace and ease around the other, like a rose vine wrapping itself around its anchor. Seizing without choking; letting go without needing. Our breath inhaled in patterns of tightening and loosening, quickening, then slowing down. Never gasping, nor trying. Having spent lifetimes apart, we understood the …
Watchman
To live a night within these dark cold walls... night watch, day watch, guardian of the land. From the warning tower above, the rhythmic arrival of light casts itself into view. Sea birds cry loudly, screeching their songs in the distance. The strong smell of salt fills your lungs. Through square concrete windows, door wide open, the wind pays a visit. Every sense now awakened. Touching every corner, bitter cold drafts swirl on the floor. Never-ending. The roar of the ocean stirs the deep silence. Whitecaps visible under the light of the moon. The wind and the ocean conspire as one. …
The Otter and the Whale
From the slough came webbed feet; paddling towards. Visiting us, the boat dwellers, sailors, and fisherman. Staring longingly he did; with pleading and depth. Large, brown eyes, conveying more than hi. Perhaps a message from the world underneath. As when the whales arrived... The stars in their eyes, dancing and bellowing. ‘We are back. Those that stand in admiration, hear and understand. Speak for us.’ A timely visit… Many humans flocked to pay tribute, to witness them so close. But when it came time to stand, few spoke. Even fewer acted. A case of willful blindness? The very …
Our Trip in Prose
Afterwords...buried in unwashed clothesthe desert reminds us of its existencewith a cactus spikelike a thorn in ones sidepoking painful reminders of my absenceprovingit wasn’t a dreamDrying sage fills my vancollected when busyness subsided;Sand witnessed between floor cracks dragged in from days outskin bronzed from living under our sun gifting an extra wrinkleBishopbasking warmth, tired muscleseach cell tinglesgiving reason to be aliveFootprints of our four legged creatures off traildestroying without knowing, unlike usa soiled tampon lays at the base of our first boulderwhat’s happened …