The Sea

I hear waves 
at the seashore
in the blustery gusts
through the naked maples
and the whispering pines
that line my morning walk
into spring

a visceral melt
into the surf.

today would be 
a red flag day 
at the beach
waves too strong 
to tame

but to the trees
flexing overhead
it’s all the same

Charming And Trusting

As I lay sleeping just now 
A tiny force of life
Snuggled up beside me

His warmth And comfort
Charming and trusting
Brought forth
A visceral memory
Of contrast

My beloved Stardust
Charming and trusting
With the loving hands
Of my little family
On her thick black coat

The warmth of our love
Our hands, our streaming tears
To no avail

As she assumed
The temperature
of the now icy room


Even the detours have detours.

There is no such thing as a straight line anyway.

The GPS is hopeless as the geography

and the the topography morph away

the familar forms from fading memory

Where was I?

Why am I here?

What is to come?

All the big questions

brought on by roadwork


Guilty Leisures

The moments between
and the things unseen .
the life unlived
when locked to the screen

isolation in density
neutral propensity
to fill all space
and avoid the intensity
Of talking to strangers

no wishes, or ideas
no solitary peace
a template for living
laid out by others
distraction without release

remote notions by strangers
Recycled ideas and
seemingly profound
Psycho babble philosophies
And jokes and memes

Creations unstarted
the Books unread
the beautiful things unsaid
Between living organisms
In public places.
The living dead

the private voices inside our heads
That lead to discovery
And art
muted by this digital dementia
This craving for entertainment
And distraction.

not to mention the postural disasters
challenges of future chiropractors
as the stooped screen tappers
can’t let anything go un glimpsed
As the scenery and the weather and
Chance encounters in the analog world
go unsiezed

Pan Of Dreams

I made Cherry Squares today

The legendary recipe


I only ate one (to test, it of course)

Enough calorific value 

To power a generator

Or keep me awake.

When we were kids

We could honk as many squares

As we could get away with 

Avoiding my mom’s wooden spoon 

Flailing at us like some 

Pathetic scarecrow

Doomed to failure.

I thought maybe the smell

Might bring her back

Or maybe the taste

Or the pride in seeing them disappear

Down the gullets of her loved ones.

Make this broken house a home again. 

My mum is gone now, almost two years

And that’s just her body. 

She started leaving several years before that.

Her Cherry Squares (the legendary ones)

Aren’t the same 

Without her around.

Now I can eat as many as I want,

And I only had one. I only wanted one

A lot less fun. A lot less magic.

A wee bit tragic. No strategy to beat

The sentry. No sentry, free entry

There they sit in the fridge

Waiting to be coveted

Waiting to be fought over

Waiting to be honked

Nobody here to honk them

It said “guard with your life”

On the recipe

Maybe that’s why i can’t sleep.

My family is all apart now. 

We come together for

Weddings and funerals

And talk on the phone

Less and less often. 

Too busy.

“If you bake Cherry Squares, maybe they will come”

Pan of dreams.

Better stolen 

Written in 2013 when things were darker.

Made them again today for my brother and sister

Family Recipe