a pub moment

The pub is warm

windows thrown open

salty sea air on the ocean breeze

pre-dusk clouds glow 

with reds, a tinge of orange

the barkeep laughs

as he cuts a steaming soda bread

the joke:  he's poured a full pint

of Guinness into the batter

the result is a brown moist delight

washed down with another stout

and a shot of Jameson

sauna prayers

sauna door clicks shut

birch water ladled

over volcanic rocks

heat rises

edging on unbearable

the tired monk

thinks of poems

as he soaps his head

razor slicks foam

slides on sweat

smooth and renewed

steam and prayers escape

via the tiny door crack

up through barren branches

and white pine needles

one road over

the road is straight

just off a divided highway

past suburbs

butted up against

working farms

through a little village

down past a cemetery

a horse farm or two

then some open 

wind swept fields

the road narrows

the pavement stops

gravel and rutted dirt

right up to

a rusted dead end sign

keep going

the road dwindles

to a winding path

almost overgrown

under a tarp

by a cedar fence

a small red canoe

I push it out 

into the creek

paddle a few strokes

drift with the mallards

secrets from the deep

secrets

sure I got 'em

a little spell ago

I pulled them up 

from the deep morass

slathered in canal muck

I hosed them off 

took a look

poked them with a barge pole

watched as they dripped

black guck, and slime

on the boardwalk

and slowly dried

I kicked them 

hard 

back into the murk

sinking down

past bicycles

knives, guns, empty bags

and litter

...so much litter

to rest 

still

on the bottom

forever

 - for the record:

I'm very much pro surprise and very anti secret. 

church

nursing a slight hangover

in the back pew

boozy spirits waft

amidst some mumbled

yet earnest prayers

only one mid-sermon nip

from a battered flask

last hymn fades

jacket, scarf, and Irish cap

on quick

  a quicker exit out a side door

a short brisk lonely walk home

too Christian for the world

too worldly for the Christians

hearthside

my obituary burns

torn into tendrils

tinder to light the hearth

the flames move

consuming kindling

birch logs ignite

this old ghost sits

warm in the fire glow

gotta be the shoes

old monk knocking down jumpers

in the high school gym

his handles are tight

ball is on a string

quick crossover 

a flash

step back fade away

hitting all day

on his feet

well worn Jordan 1s