The Wind

Me at Kilcona park

The wind

The enemy


Cold and Conniving


Swift and shifting

May I ask why you ride?

Are you riding for the feeling?

Do you blow around with the breeze?

Pollinating the flowers, fuckin’ up the bird feathers

What brings you here?

And your fragments, they blow around everywhere leaving a papertrail of sin

Always rustling up your lovers, messing up all the flowers

And where have  you been?

Before the day ended, before the dawn?

In the night we wonder if you’ll ever settle down

Do you calm down to a gentle breeze?

And when the winter comes do you bring the storms?

Freezing all the rivers, giving the people you meet the shivers

Then when spring hits you leave before the leaves grow

And the snow melts

Then you roll  out before summer to ride the wind down south

And then your back again just for the flowers to wither

To watch it all die and darken early with the sky


Hecla Manitoba


A dead quiet lapse of time,
laying low
Apathetic and corrosive
My bed, it feels foreign when you are in it
I no longer know how I am feeling, this pulse unfelt and out of touch
Ambivalent, worrisome, maybe I was too quarrelsome
Or it could have been my restless feet
Ready for the next person to be left if not already leaving
I guess my dreams again can go figure
Like John K. Samson says
Select all delete
and again this lone burden carries on another day
rolling in hot wrongs and self deprecation
Illuminated by pain,
I have become a frequent witness to the falling and rising of the roaring sun
Nothing for the wolves still howl and here we are again on the run


Me in the early morning watching the morning fog at a place called: Pond Cove, Briar Island, NS

And when the sun fell, the fog brewed
The visibility dissipated
My eyes they strained
Bloodshot reeling in disdain for what the night had brought
For what I’ve become
I wished for the dawn
I dreamed of tomorrow
But we were still in the moment
My heart grew too fond
Longing for home,
I questioned if it existed
I wondered if it was you
It was then the thoughts came clear
Shining bright in and through
Home is not within you
Home, it is nomadic and obsolete
A notion for when the sleeping is sound
And the ground is soft
A space where the heart feels safe
Where your body can fall cozily with a cup of warm brew
Tea or coffee
Yours to choose
A book, a screen, a furry creature
Some blankets and a bed, or a floor,
Or maybe home might be nothing at all