some fool came by
with an overdue library book
and the storm began
with hot drops
of stupidity

it had been a bad week officially
you were where
you were supposed to be

to which I have only crumbs
from the doughnut tree
to navigate by
and I want to move

to where the catbird
lullabies everyone professionally

they and they know who they are
caught on like lint
from the dryer of God
and calculated

the discomfort of logic and truth
and the age that
simple rage
of wanting and stopping
and wanting it all

to be something that
a fun house mirror
could straighten out


you resemble nothing more
than a blast
of sunshine
after a thunderstorm
has torn leaves
and pushed trees along
mussing their hair
scaring children
who know what a family
actually does
in a day and
a thousand days

what does it matter even now that the hours
are rolled up like a newspaper
I would carry more news than that

a hat full
brim overflowing
upside down so that the angels can pour
blue sky grace into it
for us to drink up carelessly

sure I know you want more and less and the other thing
which forgets us both

that curious rush of water
through a steep walled gorge
then a long lake opening and opening out
clouds anchored by threads of silver and gold
green everything green
worse than Ireland
"a cart horse and a priest and a cop walk into a bar"

not like that

but some kind of party and no one

lying in the odd bed
up on the funny legs

everyone in the room looking
every where but there

and no one laughing

so I will rest now
and dream of my fourth grade teacher
and wearing a sweater and waiting to go home for lunch
on a winter day
crossing Yonge Street
with the snow piled up
the streets slush wet grey and bare black
and hot soup
beef and barley
cheese and tomato sandwiches
on white bread

it is always a race for grace
a wrestle
with the devil
a jump
on the trampoline
of the past

or just a pack
of lies looking
for something

not lonesome but a
sum
of some joy

(June, 2002)