a foreigner

i am a foreigner
 only, i don't know from which land
 i am foreign to.
 here, in a nation called "Canada"
 i am not treated as a citizen. though, i was born
here
and qualify by the rules.

i am treated as an outsider
 within my own people,
 gossip passed in front of me,
 like a bottle of wine
 around a young child.
contents forbidden.

and when i go back 'home'
 i cannot read the signs in my language,
 only in English.
 i need a translator
 to speak to my elders.

and, though i try to find a home in the name of
 "wanderer"
 i do not really go wandering.
 if anything, i am searching,
 purposefully looking with intent,
 but the results are not easy
and as i dig, and dig, and dig,
the deeper i go, &
the wider the hole.
the wider the hole.
the wider the hole.

when i am near u

when i am near you
the numbers on streets and clocks
are right

the sound of rain
upon the sidewalk
is a complete refrain
to a childhood melody


at night
the stars burn like candles, when
blown,
bow
and tip
their hats

when i hold you in my mind
the expanse of heavens
dreamed in
forlorn ancient texts
reveal themselves
like a vast, turning sky


&

you,
like desert canyon walls,
are a fountain
waiting for rain.

candy of the soul

wandering star don't let the dust fool you,
it's always the view from afar that sees
spectacle in your mess --

but isn't that what the beauty of life is?

the perspective

from here,
behind a telescope lens

you shimmer
and dazzle sweet sprinkles
the kinds that make candy of the soul

glazed window into the heavens
the lens is specked
with colours unseen

peacock flume, your wispy arms scarlet, crimson
ultra violet waltz,
pink pearl cotton
atmosphere

amid your shakeless pirouette
a green only known as life

what would you be on earth i cannot say
only that
you are what the robins and bees
prefer 

the sea of stories (and creation)

look at the sky
a web of stars
without lines,
a game of connect the dots
drawn in invisible ink
escaping with the moon

maybe if we were close enough
you could drag your finger through the constellations
and feel each thread, strum a song
and call it god;
weave a patch
in
the fabric of existence

or spin heaven into a spool
and save it for a time at sea,
letting it out at the quiet of night

(or
make a home in a corner of the room
at the light of morning)
hang tiny beads of dew like
drops
of
honey...


and sail on, unfold into a map
a cornered box of a sphere,
the opened gift of raven's chest

float atop
    the sea of stories
               and creation.

the mystery of what i see

i don’t know if i’m attracted
to the mystery
of what i see
or don’t

but there is something about
the things i know about you
and the beautiful

spaces between those things
like distant stars
that close up blind me
but from a distance
make sense and shapes
and stories

and i’m a dozen little children
robed in fur
whispering in each other’s ears,
guessing and gossiping:

under the spell
of the nightsky
magic.

my cat is young beyond her years (she gazes at the stars)

Though
Young she appears
My cat knows time beyond her years:
She’s an elephant
without the ears.

She’s got nine lives and’s
lived them all in mine
she chases mice
and hates wine.

Out from the porch
eyes like a torch
she strolls into the den.

She climbs onto my legs,

becoming long and lean
and in between
a hard cover book
and a bean

curving and bending
pleasure neverending
with a scratch, with a purr,
she starts to stir

and i’ve only just begun.

Graceful bound and she’s
back on the ground, sashaying

to the deck (where)
she gazes at the stars.

if

when you are among the stars
will you touch one
let
it
fall
for me?

is there room in your shadow
for the sun to live?
for there is where
gentle flowers lie.
i have but a fraction of the world
to give,
for give a choice to live,
four all your mysteries die.

one smile of yours to lift
me when you whisper
if: