Monday, October 22, 2012


Phyllis was our Labrador
Mother, fierce as an arctic wind
Wife, warm as a sandy beach summer
Grandmother, heart as big as the Big Land
Painter, colored our trees and sky
Storyteller, told us myths of our birth
She shines in our hearts and minds
Like stars in the Labrador sky

Friday, October 19, 2012


Autumn spiders are out
Flying in the high fall sky
Pregnant black bodies
Vibrating against grey clouds
Catching the last lazy flies
To fatten themselves
To feed their wriggling white
Young when spring comes

Sunday, October 14, 2012


Just another day
In a world without you
The grass is still green
And the sky is still blue
But sometimes late at night
I just don’t know what to do
Just another day
In a world without you

Friend told me you’re in heaven
With tears in his eyes
If that place is so much better
I can see why he cries
Acts like he’s got a direct line
At least that’s what he tries
Friend told me you’re in heaven
With tears in his eyes

Monday, October 8, 2012


I walked across the bridge
The exact moment
When day turned night
Cars in front
Moving shadows
Cars behind
Moving stars

Sunday, October 7, 2012


Phyllis, fierce foliage
Of the Big Land
Unbent by arctic winds
You sheltered us
With pendulous breast and belly
Venus figurine from Siberia
Body of the earth-mother
Cybele, magna mater
Life giver
Magna avia, greatest grandmother
Moon-eyed children
We worshipped you
The oldest religion
You painted holy scenes
Mountains, hawks, lions
Hubbard’s story and picture
Telling us stories all day
Stews of truth and lies
Myths of your life
Skinny girl, force fed
Widow of Attis
You knew us from birth
‘You dirt’ you called us
When we shat or puked
Confiding the truth of mortality
Prophesying what we all become
And where you have returned

City Garden

This poem is unfinished and unsatisfying, but what the hell...

My Garden

I am a city boy
I do not grow vegetables
I plant seeds of wisdom
To grow fruits of kindness
And make wine of friendship and joy

I wish I had a garden
Of wind and dirt and sun
But instead I have this garden
Which goes wherever I am
When I finish my toil
I will sleep beneath its soil