Otherwise

winter time

moments ago
we
played peek-a-boo,
honeyed light
day’s possibilities endless
but
now
nurse quietly in
violet shadow.

loop

My child will not
will not
will not
sleep
So
spin, spin, spins
the drill,
the screw
of my mind
stripped,
its threads
(sanity)
sheared.

to taste
your shoulder
to wake to
filtered grey
light,
angora.

weekday

the scent of morning
still lies in your hair,
slumbers late,
boiling
water over loose tea.

lost soul

abandoned kitten
roam
downtown
ditches
claw a
crinkled candy wrapper
cry your wet coat
your jeans
the gutter

canadian connotations

if

tundra

is a poem
then why not

tuque

portrait of that guy

Jesus, at party: beret, Hawaiian shirt, thick wool slippers.
Jigged table-top,
drank cheap beer,
hee-hawed
his own
jokes.

I thought, bad taste.

Through the Valley of Baca; Psalm 84

Walk the rain,
Soul
Until weary feet,
a warm place.
Peel away wet socks,
weighted shoes.
Books by fire,
friends
you may read.

Wake to white-
winter sun
skis
a snow milk
sky.

Meditation in Side-Stroke

Arms stretch above
as if
pluck a red apple.
Legs
scissor, slice.
To swim in silence
is to
taste the ripe triangle,
tangy and sweet.