Wednesday, December 2, 2020


lingering cold mist over the fields
a young buck bounds out of the dark
clears the deep ditch...gone

radio is laden with early Christmas songs
and talk radio spin

I reach down 
fumbling through an old tape box
Van Halen, Trinity Sessions, Nazareth...
there it is
Bruce Springsteen: Nebraska
SIDE A is almost worn clear off

starts midway through State Trooper
flip it and listen to SIDE B
flip it back over
sing every word of Atlantic City 
as I coast back into town.

Thursday, October 29, 2020


Sometimes its like someone took a knife baby
Edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley
Through the middle of my soul

sometimes I play this song
maybe a bit slower, more meditative
less youthful know...I'm old

sometimes my soul is cut
fallen apart -  in twain

I picture lashing myself back together
binder twine
a piece of broken mason's line
packing tape

sometimes I go out looking
for pieces long enough to hold the world together
songs - music
humour, a smile (with one's eyes these days)
a long form discussion 
a kind word
a mission of mercy
a campfire, and a tug of single malt
even a prayer...
...If I can muster one

Friday, October 16, 2020



"you look like a man with a heavy heart"

heavy soul really

Van Zandt heavy
Kerouac heavy
renegade country music heavy
can't lift my hood heavy
parking lot sad heavy
tears could spill heavy
considering meds heavy
minor chord heavy
tired monk heavy


follow up piece...poem...

Why are you tired? Why are you the tired monk?

tired of facades
tired of deconstruction
tired of shaving my monk tonsured head
tired of girding up for fights
tired of lies
tired of platitudes - pinned up on posters
tired of hollow virtue signals
tired of meetings, emails, emails about meetings
tired of these tattered robes
tired of being the only monk
tired of this heavy load
tired monk tired


an anecdote

Student enters the vice-principal's office.  

He knocks on the door - three quick knocks.  

Delivers his line: "Hey I'm tired of this fucking bullshit. (pause) I'm outta here."

Student runs off down the hall.  

The VP pursues...a futile act.

The Student exits via the main doors, and hops on a downtown bus.

Monday, September 28, 2020

standing off

standing off alone
waiting? ...maybe watching
long deep Marlboro pulls
rolled up western cut Wrangler shirt
beat up cap pulled down tight
worn in (almost worn out) boots

standing off alone
waiting? ...maybe watching 
long deep breaths - slow and quiet
tattered edged flowing robe
hood pulled down low
worn in (almost worn out) sandals

Wednesday, September 9, 2020

long form

keep yer tweets
your little thoughts...
unless it is a blessing 
building me up 

I'll take that - sure I will
let's sit
dig in deep
savour this long form
free form discussion

aside:  the tired monk leaves the scene
           returns with a bottle  - two glasses
           proceeds to proffer a heavy pour
           the campfire simmers 

Thursday, September 3, 2020

Flamenco - the Poem


...well most days
my super capacity to love can waver
start slow

it'll bounce back
maybe by Wednesday  - please check back then
you may even get a smile
tucked in under this black cloth mask

it take hits you know
unknowns, catastrophizing, tinges
of existential parking lot angst,
lingering sadness

anyways - you know 
i talk too much
i love you

Tuesday, September 1, 2020

Small Town Bringdown - the poem.

Swinging down the road
guitar, and a 12 of OV
nodding heads and smiles 
in each passing car
  they know

digging our style
long hair, plaid
Levis red tab jeans
(or the occasional Wrangler)
boots on feet 
big strides moving quick  
to the Friday night party
friends packed in type
just room enough to strum n'stomp
heat and cigarette smoke
flow out 
curling up and away
intertwined with chords
and laughter

Thursday, June 4, 2020


pulling up tight
rusty VW bumper "riding the ass" of an F150
swerves - horns - fingers n'fury out on the roads

parking lot brawls
hauling lone golf clubs outta the back get the message across
left over heat
from a near fist fight in the granola bar aisle

cities burning
masks hanging on rearview mirrors
blue glove in the ditch

we are
on edge

Sunday, March 22, 2020

saint's prayers

just a thread
 a thin one at that
a torn shred of hope:
thinking about the saints
praying over this one

i too offer up mine
a tiny offering
one robe
one bowl
one tired monk prayer


Saturday, February 8, 2020


shih tzu, twin pomeranians,
and romping sheepdog paw prints
 scattered all over
 the de facto dog park

from deeper in the forest
  coyote tracks cut straight
  through the new snow

Saturday, January 25, 2020

Whisk(e)y Nights

delicate highland single malt
swirling in Glencairn glass
rich flavour layers
touches of peat and oak
sweet Scotch warmth

...other times
it's a generous pour
of Jamesons
in a kitchen juice glass