my magic

just because none of you ever saw me

even though I did all i could to reveal my magic

doesn't mean I don't have it …

because oh, i have it

of course you were never obligated to love me

but i wish my magic wasn't so distributed

it goes where you go

Spring colours

The moon occupies the exact centre of my horizon

Gauzy bands of purples, pinks, blues (robin's egg, cerulean, deep dark gray purple blue), delicate pink and shots of gold layer the sky 

Over the first greens and yellows that ever coloured a tree (or so it seems, every spring) budding on the trees of the cemetery below

Longfellow articulates flowers, night, sleep, angels

Leads me to rest and then shocks me with death

Ghostly figures of the soul

And the bright clarion call of last days

Or the bright springs of his today and mine

I read a poem, and then look at the sky

East, south, west

It's a cold spring this year

Winter moment

Jacketed dachshund
Wienering through the snow

The Forest

I fell in love with you

On the day half the forest disappeared

In this little patch of woods behind the bikepath

Back when the forest was complete

Right on what is now the border between tall slim trees

And stubby muddy expanses

Was the place I first felt the Mother

God

Reach out her hand to soothe

Another broken heart of mine

Many years ago

As I lay with my face pressed to the forest floor

Now when I call on Her to guide me

Again through the terrible love for

A disappearing man

I remember letting you, a stranger, see my tears

For the violated forest

Naively assuming that men honour forests and hearts

forever

The things that disappear through men’s fears and women’s tears

The sacred slaughtered groves

I call on Her still

She is far greater than the stranger by the road

Or the clear cut strewn with garbage

She is the new green leaves

And the sky in the spring

And -

and, again

Oh...

here it comes

poetry!

flinally

after months of self-deception

here it comes

the poetic wave where

my heart bursts with love for myself

and a thousand memories of love

flash in

far 

from the past

snowy night on King st outside the Starlight Night Club

the sky glittering

with his head on my shoulder

or just

us all

roving in high heeled crews

feeling old

when we were so, so young

or,

perhaps, in the middle age of young

too old to be young

but with no idea what was in store for us

how long life can sometimes be

(if we're lucky)

and how lonely it can get

that moment in 2008 

at 2 am at the jane bond

when I thought, my life is just going to be a 

bad canadian indie movie

and whatever happens,

i will end up here again

alone with a friend under the neon lights

or wandering home in the snow

with her,

my lost sister

and all that orbitted around us

from the first plaforms I bought at the Rideau Centre

with her

and the walks we took along the canal

or late nights coming home from the Revolution nightclub

past Macdonalds

or tears in the hallway

all that, 

so much

from 1998 to 2009

at least

and a bit before, 

and a bit after

before: alone, in the domestic wild corners of Ottawa, the edges of the river

the tree by the highway

after: somewhere in Waterloo, alone, beloved trees and rolling hills 

the highway that sounds like a river

and the chronicles of narnia

long winter walks

birds in the snow, bright red or yellow

and of course,

him

for a while

all this poetry buried within me

standing next to you at church in our best

hoping to be that nice mennonite girl

well,

i am old,

yes

older than you

wouldn't you like to see the world through my eyes?

there is so much to see 

but i have a past too

when I was your age

i was listening to this song

at the grocery store, maybe,

or at the jane bond

at 2 am, 

waiting, waiting for that person to love

and then

going home alone

you've probably gone home now too

from the place I would have been standing next to you

and i chose to stay inside

listening to this song

and remembering what it means

to be me

black eyed Susan's

when I saw those

Black-eyed Susans

by the highway

blowing in the wind

and i didn’t care if you ever saw them

and if they ever brought you the same joy 

they bring me

i knew i was fucking free

the grand river in elora

The cedar trees hang over the grand river
clinging to limestone cliffs
water flows below the land i sit on
carved out over years

spiders build webs over the ever-flowing river
while giant carp nose the fallen tree, nibbling it's cedar fronds
in the dark

across the river,
two white swans come along from the bridge to downtown
they stop in front of a house backing the water
as if conferring
finally one climbs up the bank and walks over to a wide dish
and eats for a long time
while her partner paddles the water, looks around
finally he concedes and climbs that bank
eat from the bowl with his mate

when she fills, she comes down to the bank and jumps into the water
he follows soon after
and they paddle back towards the bridge

i lay back and look up at the cedars
while birds have a shouting contest in the trees
and the light fades