spring’s trumpets
are quiet
not the blasting
of July
nor the glittering
of December snow
spring
you marvelous lover
you serenade
well into the night
birds trains wind

Monday Random: imminent disaster

  • It has been a while since we’ve convened on a Monday, hasn’t it? Let’s do this
  • First I wanted to tell you that I got a little sick from eating a bitter zucchini.
  • Apparently, this is called curcurbit poisoning
  • I found the information while looking for ways to curb the flavour of a zucchini that was particularly bitter i.e. like in the way that you make eggplant palatable
  • This is very rare, so don’t be scared, just take note if your squash tastes bitter
  • You can lose your hair
  • You can die from it

Continue reading “Monday Random: imminent disaster”

I loved you at the station

and to consider you anywhere else
whether it be glade or glen
or the food court at a mall
would tarnish our veneer

your backdrop of rail yard and crowds
a pillar of smoke rising
from your corner of the shelter
as you waited and I was late

was worthy of being painted
would it be possible to capture
all of you and the trains and the depot
in the brush strokes

our love is abandoned baggage now
left at the side of the tracks
waiting for its master, as we have gone
two separate ways

Giving the side-eye to father time

The footsteps behind me
are not particularly menacing
my last touch of coffee
poured from the can, then
wiped clean from the lid
tastes thin and wanting

My favourite boots
with their thrum, thrum
over the pavement and counting
useless data best left behind
like sands in a glass
or ticks of a tock

In my pockets, coins
from each year I traversed
(including the ten I stayed home)
I lived some of them, and
though my father would argue that
we won’t re-open the wound

My steps slow to the rhythm
of a song from 1989
letting in some light–despite
my stubborn heart–grieving
the stranger’s steps catching up
and walking past without a word

Reaching the line of tin cans
and plastic cups
outside the rail station, and
emptying my pockets, I drop
one coin for each
year of my life

hoping
the gentleman or lady
receiving 1973
can take it better than I did

cedars and pines

trainbw

each train whistle calls to you
and I know
wherever you are
you hear them
reminding you
that you are not alone
on this earth
every rail’s rattle and hum
asking if you are ready
to take the next step
outward
every bird in the trees
silent
knowing this is life
and you can grab it
with both hands

when the wind turns a certain way
I can hear the train
my lips curling up at the corners
eyes bright
wait! where are you going?
I want to go too-
I have been too long slumbering
too many days weeks months years
without being myself
I want to go
and see everything
that I used to see
wondering if everything
has been missing me