Thursday, February 28, 2013


my neighbour's cat.

she patrols my property.
brings me birds.

right now she is trying to figure out
how to get the snow out
from between her toes . . . . 

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

i shall foot it

i shall foot it
in the silence of the morning,
see the night slur into dawn,
hear the slow great winds arise
where tall trees flank the way
and shoulder toward the sky.

carl sandburg

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

moving into march

the wooden edge of a flowerbed returns to this plane of existence
as the accumulated snow and ice of the past month or so recedes

Monday, February 25, 2013


degrees of sophistication

indicators of necessity

a measure of intention

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Saturday, February 23, 2013

late february

a late february early evening sky

the soft feeble light
warms my lips

Friday, February 22, 2013


the many dialects of a thoroughfare

Thursday, February 21, 2013

the wind

the wind brings assymetry

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

the speed of life


we race by

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

what we see

“life is what we make of it. travel is the traveler. what we see isn't what we see but what we are.”

fernando pessoa   .   the book of disquiet

Monday, February 18, 2013

this my self

when i saw the confluence of the cuneiform metal, 
the starred and dried leaves 
and the slender shadows stretched across the snow
i felt an echoing 
of the architecture 
of my self

Sunday, February 17, 2013

tracks from above

crossing a bridge and looking down at the tracks in the snow.

sometimes my dreams take me above my self 

and i see
the scatter of my life with the same distance
connecting and drawing the lines of all that has passed

while comfortably unsure of where i came from 
and where i am going 

Saturday, February 16, 2013


there is for me a necessity - the necessity of fairness. 

fairness is a word i love for its multivalent nature. 

fair - beautiful without condition. a sort of innocence. 
fair - an equivalency of experience that doesn't compromise the presence of a person in the presence of another.

my own definitions. 
my own sense of rightness.

Friday, February 15, 2013

look up (i)

i like that my town takes care of its heritage without being too protective. 

these are lived-in buildings.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

under and over . . .

little moments on my walk home in mid february . . .

the high risk shot . . . walking under late afternoon pigeon land . . . 

across the otonabee river . . . the ice comes and the ice goes . . . 

and across jackson creek where it joins the otonabee river . . . 

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

life as it is

it was and is
and becomes

layers of passing
an overlapping of ambitions

a rending

seeming disconnection

but always with layers
that allude 
to an apparent
and necessary

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

window shopping

the blogger as a window shopper . . .

oh, my friend,
all that you see of me
is just a shell,
and the rest belongs to love.


Monday, February 11, 2013


my home in february . . . .

the view from the street

the side stairs

down by the fence line

Sunday, February 10, 2013

the blogger

the blogger in his winter monkey hat walking up the main street of his town . . . 

Saturday, February 9, 2013

crary park

the park, by the side of little lake - which isn't a lake at all but a widening of the river  . . . 

no matter.

it's always a special place that i bicycle or walk through each and every day.

Friday, February 8, 2013

february 8. 2013

a pale vanilla sun peeks between some winter branches as a snowstorm moves in from the southwest.
i'll walk to school today.

imagine my fortune!
i get to choose between a bicycle or walking
in order to get to work!

Thursday, February 7, 2013

beside the railway

it's the little fragilities
the withered vulnerabilities
that hold me in admiration.


of its apparent loss of purpose

a winter killed plant still holds its place
hard next to an unused railway track

Wednesday, February 6, 2013


check the weather outside . . . 

out the front door . . . 

and onto the driveway.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

in a winter storm

in the summer, a sailboat will tie up to this mooring post.

Monday, February 4, 2013

paper man

i just watched this. it's sweet!!!

Sunday, February 3, 2013

winter marina

the marina docks in winter time. 

Saturday, February 2, 2013

the parapet of a bridge

looking over the parapet of a bridge.

underneath the bridge a river emerges. 
not a big river, but a river that begins north of my city and then is hidden under city streets, emerging briefly in places and then diving back underground. 

i think on its history sometimes and try to imagine its place in the lives of the animals, the first nations people who knew it as a source of water and food, the early settlers who learned to see it as much the same,  and now am i thinking on the times i spend in a funky cafe next to a fifty foot stretch that emerges and babbles almost joyfully. . . . 

this morning i am looking over the parapet of a bridge.
the river beneath me is frozen over, but at its centre where the current is strongest, the ice is thinnest, revealing the colour of the water beneath it.

so like people.

Friday, February 1, 2013

[month of] february

[month of] february

the winter moon has such a quiet car
that all the winter nights are dumb with rest.
she drives the gradual dark with drooping crest,
and dreams go wandering from her drowsy star.
because the nights are silent, do not wake:
but there shall tremble through the general earth,
and over you, a quickening and a birth.
the sun is near the hill-tops for your sake.

the latest born of all the days shall creep
to kiss the tender eyelids of the year;
and you shall wake, grown young with perfect sleep,
and smile at the new world, and make it dear
with living murmurs more than dreams are deep.
silence is dead, my dawn; the morning's here.