northern afternoon
dusk covered in inky clouds
i'm barely awake

the snowdrift shadow
the colour of the twilight
lonely nights and days

halogen orange
in the back of every drift
sad soft blue shadows

the northern lights
make me want to make
japanese babies

fat neck, long neck
on her slack wire pendulum
the raven rides

turning in twilight
toward my name, my name
the unseen raven

first pussy willow
under last thin snow
everywhere now

cropped up against
the horizon, the curving expanse
of midnight pine

my steaming breathing
measured by the swishing skis
on squeaky snow

the road home, each time
that i find it again,
never quite lost

what is the last time
that it decided not to happen
or was it just now

lynx looks filtered
through trees, and shock
to almost disappear

i accept
any hoar frost
on any branch

out from the office
another 4 inches
of snow on the car

a few more moments
of this, the winter air
before i sleep

golden background glow
floats against the black branches
of our city trees

i dreamt i was shot -
and never to awaken
from my painless wound

my footsteps follow -
but are my first ones
fading in the snow?

another high five
reflected in the patio doors
we, together, inside

the long cold night
my summer resistance
the winter, submit

the tin roof drum
as the snow turns to rain
a crescendo

sparse public forest
with snow gutters leading me
meandering

under the covers
breathing hard through their voice
hotel lovers

here the road, your face
with the window reflecting
your face, and the road

today the snow
sounds the same way
i remember it

low tide treasures:
the soft, slick, unearthly lure
of your dark tang

ice shells of puddles
etched with raven feathers,
cold in the moonlight

tree-arched roadway
after the rain has stopped
still raining

dancing rock to rock
everything i've lived for
in between the rocks

my old monkey bars -
swinging down the loamy slope
tree to tree to tree

faint hope of trail
uncross branches crossed
and follow none

to imagine sleep
covered up, under covers
green bed of forest

i walk slowly
the thirty feet of concrete
to and from work

wings misaligned -
just one way left to fly
october moth

* * *

too cold to fly
so, as i wait for you
the moth waits

* * *

did the frozen moths
think that if no one noticed
they wouldn't be dead?

yellow poplar trees
i feel a draft
and they shiver

deep focus to the end
where the canyon's lost
in yellow hills

my red rust truck
the buyer drives away
kicking up leaves

six legs but antennae
make eight lines outlined
betwixt my arm hairs

shush, the undersound
of the city, or the trees
shushing the air

aliquots of love
the perfect division
of heart and state

this is how the perfect
human falls, the perfect
fall, the perfect human

here the branches end
and here again branches begin
oh sky between

if you can relate
to blooms half-opening
relate to anyone

as for the dead moth
that i rubbed against my cheek
i guess he's gone now

faith is two circles
on the tarmac, on a bike
with your eyes closed

with our prayers
billowing on thy whim
our plastic bags

hop into my curry
oh little summer bug -
without hesitation...

you are so brief -
i've never understood
half a sunset

i am growing old
a frayed loop of tired rope
a broken chair

my fidelity:
the forest of the evening fog
of my glasses

* * *

the quickening touch
of her many fingers -
the winter willow

* * *

i can't cry
for what is lost
winter thaw

freezing rain
broken glass breaks
frozen grass

the asphalt hoar
illuminates
my steam

another night sky -
blue teeveed windows
and i, passer-by

duskily lit
in the forest obscurity
form shadows

and the limpid song
of fast melting
snow

ideally

in the sense that the snow
in an unbroken layer
covers everything

as kettle boiled down to
a coat of char and salt
that will not scrape

the residuum
of a vacuumed
continuum

as in wham
as in bam
as in yes,
ma'am

this beautiful surface
i could study
for a lifetime

* * *

the villian of my story
eats egg sandwiches with cheese,
chicken, unhatched, and olives


* * *

starlight burned out
streetlight that turns on
just as i approach

* * *

the unwritten
unspoken word
i know what it is.

the warm exhaust
of this long winter night
and laundry steam

* * *

the entrenched labour
of never once, never once
shoveling my drive

perfect
streetlit
snowfall

* * *

the cold is calling
it will hold you, lover
lover, forever

* * *

below snow stars
body warmth strong

but this is where
i lay down
my mittens.
this is where
i take off my coat.
this is where
my shoes
my feet first touch
where i sit
where i lay
i close
my eyes

for a second.

just for a second.

just
for
a second

second.

* * *

1/867,400th of a day.
1/3,847,833,000 of my life.
it just took 130 to figure that out.

* * *

get up snow and dance
make this everything crazy
close it on itself

approaching the ice patch:
small, careful, measured steps
or build up some speed?

growing a beard
can be pretty tiring -
lonesome november

the maple key
falls
with no direction

(life is a circle -
sure, like the drain
the dangling feet)

windows on four walls;
now this room -
no windows, no doors

* * *

pause before sleeping
sounding the deepend
preparing, depending
on ending the ending

* * *

blue, dark blue
the thousand shades
from black to blue

* * *

a last look at the moon
my last look at the moon?
one last look at the moon

* * *

dark deck, winter dank
dripping first snow
in my sandles

* * *

dark skies
the fireflies
of cat's eyes

* * *

my love is like children in the dark

* * *

me and the crickets
they remind me
we will not be remembered

* * *

(i bet i'd look like a bat
in my crow costume
if i had a bat mask)

morning blizzard -
breakfast tea is good
in the afternoon

halogen glow -
across the frozen road
sulk ghosts of snow

those who choose
not to suffer
suffer more

those who choose
suffering
suffer well

october's backyard
thick in wet leaves
a yellow raincoat

black pine tops -
the glare of sun on lake
is surrounded

years go by
by the rusting cars
in the weeds

turbulence -
it can't be, it is,
it can't be

evening homestretch -
standing in your shadow
a hundred yards away

tan strip of beach
floats on the swaying point
of my kayak

before landing
orange lichen on a rock -
the autumn birch

in the sweat lodge
my mind may wander -
not in cold water

through long looks
through thick windows
i am riverside

cold in a sweater -
the first day's arrived
equinox aside

birches' changes -
animated yellow on
charcoaled white poles

fearless death
this whole forest soon
including the sun

careless death
broken mushroom caps
my steps, steps

my real sickness
staying inside all day -
warm fall evening

night terrors -
but everything is fine
now isn't it?

the forest edge -
another quiet autumn hike,
no quicksand, no bear

wet fall day -
the sun doesn't shine
but mushrooms do

swimming waves
while it rains -
drinking it

watching the moon move
waiting for you to call -
watching the moon move

harvest moon -
an apple falls
once an hour

a year of haiku
and all i get
is here

mimikaki -
the bumblebee lover
deep in the bloom

river bottom
hard, soft
or surprising

these clear-cuts are cairns,
a hundred miles of headstones -
here we bury the earth

everything arrives -
the morning when the coffee
reflects the sun

hooking the minnow -
feeling only for himself
he cried for the fish

diaphanous dew -
my memory of your mornings
savoured and sun rose

evening is ebbing
in the empty arms of birch -
when will you return?

cold september water -
i can hardly tell
if i'm naked

near-sighted salience -
sudden flowers burst colour
in verdant forests

an airborn instant
over fallen forest trees -
immortality

standing at the top
the only place you can see
humble sioux mountain

twilit little girls
hair bouncing to the river
unafraid of ghosts

almost autumn -
the bumblebees asleep
in the thistle

leaving again -
the highway, the sky
one shade of grey

> shhhhhhhhe> mmmmmmmmme>>
> still upon> a shaft of grass> listlessly> a dragonfly>>
> motionless> patiently> waiting for> the wind to die>>
> the wind tugs> his wings> the wind sings> a susurrous song>>
> of goldenrod> violets, ginger> clover fields> grown long>>
> shhhhhhhhe (the wind)> mmmmmmmmme (the dragonfly)>>
> now wings> shimmering> answering> with flutter drum>>
> dark water> thunder> chase, escape> a murmurous hum>>
> then release> my god> their dance> a whir>>
> impossible> grace> as he> enters her>>
> shhhhhhhhe> mmmmmmmmme>>

daisy chain tying
you and me that summer day
cannot be broken

cicada shells -
where once you stood
by the river

dark brown water
somewhere six feet under
i get scared

sit in the woods
a moment to comprehend
shit in the woods

against the nylon
unseen drops whack flatly -
don't touch the edges

winsome auburn
sunlit summer swimmer
stretching slowly

these gathering clouds
on the edge of raining -
my simple sadness

fishermen gone
the river is wide again -
summer nightfall

old surgeon -
his eyes light up
talking carpentry

this any rainbow -
stare and it lasts forever
turn and it's gone

swimming again -
each time i hold my breath
good-bye, good-bye

windy island -
every branch reaching
in one direction

cold-blooded depths -
kick and cut the warm skin
of summer water

wash rice, fetch water
walk my route to work -
you're leaving

morning walk -
collecting dewdrops
with my toes

these few mushrooms
you'd described to me
grow everywhere now

floating world -
the raft of roots
the roll of reeds

river bottom -
my bubbles swim
like jellyfish

write this down
shred the paper on a hill -
here is meaning

oh paper world
where are the verbs
of the dragonfly?

red skin slides round
lips pursed to receive
the whole radish

caught in hand
every raindrop is the same
every moment

dust and no rain
i miss you less
after lightning

face down sunbathing
the children shout, the dock creaks
i wait for the splash

full sun of july
i pause in passing shelter
one small cloud

academic half day
the patterns of my papers
in creases on my cheeks

scenic viewpoint -
try this sunlit skinny dip
beyond the railing

summer day dreams
yellow float planes floating
by the other bank

evening roadside stop
a thousand miles from home
in either direction

the middle of june
driving home in full sunlight
the day just half done

sudden june shower
the women that never run
dashing for cover

another dead moth
underneath this cheap lightbulb
heaven help us all

the moth passes
behind the moon
emptiness

arching lilac
a fat woman yawns
in the breeze

fresh spring rain -
hands dark with dirt
holding an amethyst

kite-flying
how many times
someone told me to

hungry wind
kite skin
against bones

chasing rabbits?
my faithful old friend
might be flying

lightning, no moon
her name
on my tongue

i'll still sleep
on my side of the bed
when you're gone

roll up your pants
to catch the splashing
kids in underwear

little spider
on the water
rowing home

she sees butterflies -
the soft summer motions
of breath and loving

* * *

when they fly away
butterflies leave a pattern
of flutters behind

late but lingering
by the beachside door
the breeze through the screen

city sounds wake me -
calling, bathing, mating, feeding
and preening feathers

chatting for a spell -
the weather and my neighbour
her rake in her hands

* * *

she says you gonna see
she says every month - this month
is the most beautiful

the first day of may -
winter coat in the morning,
abandoned afternoon

just after twilight -
like my old t.v., the colours
have bled to blue

the heron poised
to take a step
he does not step

where's your heaven?
there's more sparkles in the lake
than stars in the sky

sundry flotsom
half-buried by the beach
poked by my feet

the layer of waves
that rides upon the swell -
rippled itself as well

i sometimes fear
if nothing else will destroy me
i will destroy myself

to sun your wings
i pick a sunny stick -
wet little ladybug

bounding up the stairs
to change out of my work clothes -
the late days of spring

watching waves washing -
swept to sea, infinity
waxes, washes, wanes

the duckling straggles
then waggling,
struggles to catch up

two growing circles
where his wingtips dipped -
the heron is gone

trapped inside
my head, the holes too small
to tunnel out

beside the highway
an old woman like a ghost
with pussy willows

overhanging edges
the beach falling into the creek
too wide to cross now

running between jobs
in the warmth of the parked car
i breathe a moment

the spring stream heaves
the ice in blocks and it's banks
everything swept to sea

dark foreboding fruit
filling every empty tree -
claws with bobbing caws

frozen april creek -
every year i offer my boot
to your wet embrace

clear april sky -
one spin in the backyard
reveals every star

confused at this point
is this a window or a mirror
and was that an echo?

effortless journey -
two hundred million miles
to gleam in your eye

the winter is sky on earth
the spring just earth
the summer is life

the fall tightens clasps
and she laughs, but prepares
for a burial

the summer
the winter
the sky

footprints on the moon
first melted then frozen
the snow on the ice

so dark i can't see
the clouds that fill the sky
move over the moon

lost hours
go on forever
to where?

dawn shines through
but i turn, warm, and sleep more -
good igloo

the whiteness broken
spread into green, blue, yellow -
the prism of spring

these plus seven days
remind me that snow is water
with soaken ski boots

the melting snow -
i want it, i don't want it
nothing you can do

parting with winter
soothed by morning birdsongs
for gaps in the snow

it's springtime!
may the hairs of my shaven beard
fill a thousand nests

in this order -
my feet, the deck, the snow
an island, the sky

broken igloo -
struggling in the stuggling spiral
the centre cannot hold

watching the icicle
to slowly lengthen, tremour
and the drop to fall

the thawing winter
drips nearby drop nearby
drip by drip by drip

sunny winter day -
she laughs as i plunge my hand
deep into the snow

it's no monk's life this:
fetch water, clean rice, chop wood
but each evening - her

no fire last night -
in the pockets of my pants
cold change

winter well water -
the sublime splashes numb
my sleeve stiffens

what a ruckus!
looking for the cawing crow
i see the eagle

in the long shadows
is that a crow moving
or a crow's shadow

winter river hike
haikus coming and going
as i move along

the snow's too deep
i walk slowly, my skis
like crow's feet

the plowed snow road
this angle, this moment
the snow glows gold

see these empty trees
a leaf that fell this fall
leaves forgotten

we try to answer
the meaning of the morning
freshly fallen snow

my blue and blackened hands
struggling to start a fire
under a tamarrack tree

a year now drying
this overcast winter sky
the colour of the wood

voluminous bum
my fingers runneth over
cupping her curl

clawed crow snow prints
just one pair, there
alone on the ice

a hard week of work
so easily forgotten:
tomorrow i sleep in

cracked but held by ice
the trellises fell apart
with warmer weather

one thing broken
into two things
both broken

the ice-fishers
far dark sitting sillouettes
move imperceptibly

lichen, frozen
you stay the way
you stay

too tired
to try to talk
to you tonight

another snapshot
the camera at arm's length
all eyes and horizon

are the days so short?
i didn't ask snowshoeing past
spruce tops in the snow

shovelling the snow
minus ten in a t-shirt
man that sun is warm

makes a sacred space
by heaves of ice upon the lake
a monolith of blue

overwhelmed, unable
to scrape the frost flowers
from my windshield

the fruit on bad days
of what labour leaves me sour
with hope fermenting

a little snow drift
on the carpet by the door
where the draft comes from

metallic pinches
my fingers in a cold snap
fumbling the key

solitude renewed
the echo of our voices
sighing to silence

a dusky blanket
worn on a bed of snow
our shadow stretches

the light from below
the branches shadows are white
after the snowfall

beauty eagerly
reading pomes to herself
i can picture you

our steps sounding time
in moonlit pine, marching home
down snowmobile trails

Prelude to Winter

The moth under the eaves
with wings like
the bark of a tree lies
symmetrically still -

And love is a curious
soft-winged thing
unmoving under the eaves
when the leaves fall.


William Carlos Williams

(i can't contain
it) love (within
me) (within you)

welcoming the new year
by snapping carpets clean outside
cold in just a t-shirt

the rays that rose
have risen
beyond the horizon

the sky
is lit, and not
below it

i just now got it
bought it and then i lost it
and i'm so empty

to read this pome
after you read this pome
observe one minute

sheet ice thrust slowly
shifts up fault lines that scrape
the surface to the sky

the first indication
the lake had frozen overnight
the sound of no waves

fallen around me
this darkness is creeping
and breathing

truly relaxed
a day or two off
after holidays

seeing if the ice
is thick enough to walk on
seeing that i am

the stove full of wood
when i left home this morning
nothing but ashes

see my face reflected
driving in the dirty screen
in shadows of cloud

ground heaves and drafts breeze
pipes freeze and i'm out of wood:
winter ain't easy.

the wind's whistle
screams the song
of breathlessness

frozen beach stream
now covered in sand
now covered in snow

hands scarred from shifting
hewn halves of hardwood
scorched beneath the char

i find myself
facing east at sunset
with pink cedars

screen door in the bath
brought in to thaw
from beside the house

wish for winter death
when whiteness covers corpses
buried and forgotten

just for a second
in the glide of the ski stride
i'm weightless again

breaking a branch in two
the raw wood that never knew
daylight before

(whack the stick's back:
it snaps back intact and
cracks me with a smack)

done after dusk
out the door before dawn:
god damn darkness

(my snow is grey
in headlights cast
my shadows stay
forever masked)

i can hear the water
i want to walk there

i want to slip into the night
where the air is sharp as knives
and feel my flesh alive
as again i do not die

as again i do not die
i want to slip into your life
i want to feel your flesh alive
and the sharpness of your night

i want to walk beside the water
which calls on me to touch her

tearing the tanned skin
in layers from the limbs of birch
pale thin blue then flesh

there's ice all around
but i feel so warm inside
guessing the temperature

reflecting the night
the ice was blue and black
with stars, maybe


later


reflecting my flight
my bum is black and blue
enlarged, maybe

just after sunset
the smokestacks criss the crosses
of the clouds

the sky and the water
deep grey and indivisible:
a fool's horizon

i am the movement
reflecting on the water
clear, deep, and still

the sky is a salmon
that is leaping
into the water

i shuttered my lights
and stretched up to the night
my hand like a cloud on the stars

i have better things
to do than wait twenty minutes
she ejaculated

thick as midnight
in the middle of the sky
the moon is smack dab

white coated and cold
he doesn't know it snowed
outside the hospital

seagulls can fuck themselves
all the blinds are shut
dull headache

cold today
in this space
i occupy

scraping away
another thin coat
of frost on the truck

up too early
thin as six o'clock
the crescent moon

vista of birch
white shimmering yellow
a harvest of colour

my eyes fluttered shut
as the darkness
shuttered up my spine

the suspension
air, mirrors and blind spots
flashing passes

* * *

abruptly
turning into
a grip of gravel

* * *

a full embrace
love, safety, and slow
the weight of brakes

no fire tonight
as cold as the forest
inside my house

nine day pomes

soothing shoosh
of the ocean's inhalation
exultation, exhalation
this breathing
like your breathing
like you're breathing
now

and i imagine
images of
limitless

feeling
of being
being

and smells well hell
we all got smells

* * *

looking for an answer
just give me a chance here
i only want to ask her
who she is

* * *
the sun casting
red and yellow shadows
on my eyelids

* * *

sit all day
just to walk
walk all day
just to sit

* * *

windows are closed
crows have stopped calling
rain must be falling

* * *

i remember then
when i remember
that you remember
what i remember

* * *

jeez my legs are sore.
is this really the way?

* * *

butterfly flutters
by flits, flirts, flies - in silence
the sound of music!

* * *

today i got it but
i don't know alot
about it

this morning
as i crested the hill
the moon rose

no haiku for days
hasn't the moon risen
or the mist

the first few leaves
make me think of winter
falling like snowflakes

the dog i met
wanted to play with the stick
he wouldn't give me

the river is cold
before the lake
but warm after

from this unlit land
the lake is lit by moon light
to a land unlit

flowers float down the river
like prayers for the dead
i float belly up and still
thinking maybe i am

distant storm clouds
the leaves rustle suddenly
anticipating

sneaked to the water
naked and slipped

from sun through waves
to lines of light that lilt
along the sandy bottom

the sand is cold
my footprints do not stray
near the water's edge

our rainwet clothes
tumbling against one another
in the dryer

begin again, begin again
begin, again begin, again

just as

echo
echoes
echo,

echoes
echo
echoes.

out here on the sound, in the hollow of the beach
the water sings the sky's song: a vibrato of clouds
bass tones harmonizing the scale of dawn and dusk
the wind mirrored in the window of the waves
shhoooshh.