i miss you everyday

it was the closest thing

it was the closest thing, but
we were not equal to
its form or design
the dripping icicles
remind me of a coming
spring
why is it still so cold?
without my sun
can winter ever leave?

You haunt my thoughts tonight

You haunt my thoughts tonight
Shade of Raven's wing
Rimmed with reddish glow
Casting dreams throughout the night
Upon my soft pillow
While the wind howls and blows
Down an empty street below
All around the pyramid lights
A tempest swirls and flows
An icy storm out in the night
While here a fire grows

Your worst sin

"Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing." -Dostoevsky

Can You See Yourself

can you see yourself as a child
in some image of the past?
chequered picnic blankets by the
blue water
sand castles suspended under
younger faces
(in their excellency
these are perfect graces)
beyond reclamation but for
their fuzzy traces
did i miss something there?
what did i forget to do?
who am i
to raise this child's ghost?
am i still that little boy
beneath the elm and
mother's spreading smile?

Raven Conspiracy

the green green wreath

the green green wreath

around a painted cross

so bright against the

fallen snow

it's not for show

i remember

the red red flower

upon the old man's collar

so sad among his

fallen friends

it's not pretend

i remember

the gold gold horn

alone in shining air

so pure the note

against the sky

too soon it dies

i remember

Nautical Disaster

I'm sure most of you have a favourite.. here's one of mine.  Thank you so much Gord Downie and The Tragically Hip.  

The seams are all uneven

In the quiet kitchen

In the quiet kitchen she stands,
Dim light on the window,
Upon the drip dry pans
What is she trying to find?
Her place in life?
A man?
A kindred spirit
Who understands?
And the children run by
The woman with the stare,
Toys in hand,
Unaware or without
Care how their mother fares.
She was once a little girl
In a far away place,
Found by God in
His infinite grace.
But with this finger I
Think I could trace
The disappointment in
Her heart.
With my finger gentle
Upon her breast
I would start,
Slowly descending along
The ribs, and lower
Where the legs part.
Perhaps you think it
Crude or cruel?
Yet it's all a symbol,
And I, a fool.

Leonard Cohen

Leonard Cohen 1934-2016













fireflies dance in
Leonard Cohen's eyes
does the world care
when a poet dies?
"not for me, my love,
my love don't cry.
wave to the stars
for your goodbye"

Venus

Pencil on paper

Venus in silhouette