Between the break wall

And the lake-sprayed sky,

They scream with the gulls,

Taunting the deep,


But for their sails

Bobbing as benignly

As the ducks near the shore

gliding for food

On this man-tamed lake

So barren of late,

She no longer regurgitates

Her silver-scaled progeny.


There’s a big white dog out there in the rain,

Like snow grazing

On the hill hiding tracks out there by the lake.

And wind blows rain on my widow:

And the dog’s a pullin’ a leash

And a lady stumblin’ out there

At her end of the rein.

So What’s Truth?

I’ve been watching media accounts of Mr. Trump since everyone thought he was kidding, and when he got elected everyone thought he was crazy; the kids were scared and my barber had a nightmare cutting the new president’s hair. And I was seeing articles announcing his certain resignation, and here in Toronto we sent a reporter down there to fact check him. And every news organization except Fox and every big name journalist kept warning of chaos and tyranny. But only Fox News knew people who looked like they liked him.

The Road

I used to be ready to join whatever came along.

And what used to come along were people like me,

People whose strings had come unstrung;

Mapless – like Hansel and Gretel chasing crumbs by a translucent glass dividing life and middle class’

Flickering out to highways like galaxies in a dark night’s sky.

The Underground

and her own mind
Desolate and wild as the wind.

Faces along the east-west subway

Faces I didn’t know were there

Till the TTC planned a trip for me

Up a path where wind bites,  blowin’

To Maine where motorized lame keep comin’ and goin’.

Passed imploring arms, out from the walk at a wall.

And a lady screaming she wants to be  left alone

With bags on her arms transfixed under heaven;

And her life

 And her own mind

Desolate and wild as the wind.

Guarding the underground: a man displaying coins in a stack pleasantly solicits more.