Author Archives

by

Steady Drip

glacier ice(personal photo from inside the mouth of a glacier)

we turn the tap
water rushes
roars
sloshes under ice
cascades a cry through mountains
tries to hang on to steep slopes
warning of warming
a Swiss yodel
Suzuki echo
to get our attention
as glacial meltwater spills

our thirst grows

air conditioned car
to air conditioned home
we do not see
peaks slump on the horizon
a lifetime of habits
deposited downstream

polar caps melt
we lick our parched lips

by

Stealth

cityscape(photo credit: imprm@countach.fm)

Whispering winds carry secrets
over sleepy city streets
gather and swirl
unsuspecting thoughts

Exhausted dwellers walk
through zombie days
focus on one foot
in front of the other

Up and down, over and under
air moves in stealth
a silent intruder

Scarves wrap against it
coats button it out
still it continues
growing
until it Howls

by

Stampede Extravaganza

evening-show-main-hero-1440x600

(internet photo)

Yahoo, yee-haw, yippee-ki-yay
another Stampede is underway.
The city is buzzing
with tourists from afar,
chuck wagons and horses continue to star.
Cowboy hats, and cowboy boots
two-step, stomp and dance to wee hours,
the midway offers spinning rides
and exotic food to devour.
It’s a great big party
for one and all,
Calgary’s Stampede –
better than a Game of Thrones ball.

by

Stream of Thought

Security%20Fence%201
(internet photo)

Noise.
Sounds and smells swirl.
A muddy pile
ready for trash can,
or possibly recycling.

Words recycle themselves
on the page,
powerless to escape
the strike of the pen.
Smooth ink flows.
A river confident in its strength,
its ability to carve landscapes,
reshape its borders.

Boundaries.
Fence posts to navigate.
Or, maybe, grab onto
if the water gets too rough.

by

I Pretend

chickenwearingshoes

(internet photo)
My tongue lolls
like a dog on a hot day.
It hangs out
day ’til night
to catch shooting stars
from our first date.

No clouds are too dark or too grey
to dampen the spark you ignited.
I stand in the rain.
Your scent washes from my hair,
so recently twisted through your fingers.

My squeaky-balloon shoes
squish along the sidewalk
each step one further from you.
If I had a rooster right now
I would make it wear these noisy shoes,
take away the annoyance of your departure.
Already your absence is a giant egg beside me.
The truth as much a surprise to me
as seeing a rooster wear shoes.

A quart-berry basket full of water
is easier to manage than your absence.
I would powder my nose with an ax
rather than be away from you.
I would eat plastic grapes, breathe fire,
drive a truck with a screwdriver
if it meant I would be back with you.

My mind has shrunk to the size of a pea
my body no longer exists.

I want to wash your feet, honor you
for blessing me with the gift of your love.
As each step takes me further from you
I walk like I have a tail between my legs.
I pretend it isn’t mine.
I pretend you are still with me.