Upside down

Photo by Dan Fraser

Living upside down

turn it over

which side goes up

turn it over again

The locomotive

Photo by Dan Fraser

A lull in the locomotive

roaring in the furnace of my mind

allows a venture

in green space with curly brown leaves

the chirp of robins

flutter of a red headed woodpecker

and the dash of squirrels

then the force of time

and wheels of where and what and who

pulled me irresistibly

back to the locomotive

and the illusions of importance

Circle and the square

Photo by Dan Fraser

We know the story of the circle

and the square that cannot fit

I feel like I am a square

that goes around and around

in circles

every time I pass a certain point

I change my colour and my name

I’ve been green and red and blue

but I still don’t know my name

sometimes I am a circle

that goes round and round

in squares

I hit every corner with a crash

I never see them coming

and I still don’t know my name

Bag of questions

Photo by Dan Fraser

I dreamed that there was a disturbance

in the force of eyes

the wind had blown the here

into the breath of there

the translation was lost in verbs

and no one could explain

the disappearing prepositions

ears were full of whos and whys

and hands were trembling

with an endless bag of questions

Small waters

Photo by Dan Fraser

Small waters do not reach

a destination

they continue

air does not move

in and out of you

it continues

sound does not begin

when you speak

it continues

life did not begin

with your birth

it continues

In the yellow light

Photo by Dan Fraser


In the yellow light of longing

I disappear into a small fading list

of places I have never been

they are placed in a restless past

where sun cooks the dusty yellow streets

and people walk slowly

with curious eyes that do not see me

I am not there

I keep disappearing moment by moment

into the yellow past

I am here I am gone

moment by moment I am gone

I expected more than this


Photo by Dan Fraser

Trying to measure the distance

from the edges to the edges

there is no limit to what I do not know

if I find the center

I will go everywhere from there

drifting in the clock of things

I search and search for edges

Behind the old family home

Photo by Dan Fraser


Behind the old family home

lies a forgotten pile

tangled nouns and verbs

some worn out from overuse

and some never touched

abandoned lives lay scattered

about the yard

like costumes from a play

whose run had ended

where have the actors gone

were their stories complete

dust blows softly over the afternoon

without the answers


Experiment in light and dark

Photo by Dan Fraser

What can you see

in the dark

without light

there is always light

of a sort

what can you see

in the light

without dark

there is always light

of a sort

being is light

of a sort

light is being

of a sort

Cedar giants are dying

Photo by Adrienne Fraser

A week or so ago, a friend told us the changes in the weather patterns – more sun, more heat, less rain – were affecting our local Western cedar trees. They weren’t getting the water they needed and were beginning to die. While this was alarming somehow I didn’t take it seriously. I thought it’s a very long slow process.Then last night when I was awake trying to cope with various fears and anxiety, I read in our local paper (Nanaimo News Bulletin), climate change was affecting the cedars on the east coast of Vancouver Island (where we live) and 10 – 15% may not survive this year!I was so upset it pushed me over some kind of edge and this poem came out, 3:00 am again, of course.

If the cedar giants are dying

so are we all

the killer is not climate change

for me it is fear

a voice in the night cries out

I cannot breathe

I cannot breathe

even in their majestic slow death

my cedar brothers keep giving

they are giving love giving life

even as they hear the voices

both day and night

I cannot breathe

I cannot breathe

they continue giving love

giving life

this is what they do

this is who they are