In loving memory the saga goes,
or so they say when feint reminder culls a piercing interlude.
Remnant of an unfinished sentence,
broken shadow haunt awash with grief,
snapshot at the edge of a well.
Parachute of blinding insight on queue or on song,
paper mache angel deep within.
Verses, scrolls, smudges from that pink enamel claw,
whose back fold clip appearance left one reeling,
like some
tree house dweller rattled by a swooping hawk.
Gimlet sipping voyageur
adrift on ice pack yacht,
in need of solace,
yet wishing it to the bottom of his rusty bucket list.
Fragile human being torn apart,
funeral bound,
that once upon a time surreal biker skirting mountains.
A priori stunt man metaphysically divine on rocky ledge,
dare devil prayer when it suits.
Feat performance activist a sleight of hand jester,
yet despite this vapid mask of dumb amnesia,
he wanders blindfold down
an alpine peak while chasing after dim and distant keepsake
Date posted :31st January 2022
OUT OF THE BELLY
Highway sixty pours into the Ottawa Valley the same way sunlight rips through the drapes of my darkened motel room. Every Monday I knife my way through the darkness and Algonquin Park to toil in the trade that chose me and rip at the bowels of duty and then every Friday I head back in the opposite direction yet into another abyss. The darkness has impregnated the Darkness. Emerging from the womb I am welcomed in Petawawa (is that Dante drinking coffee at Tim’s?) by the Time Traveler who transports me into the 18th century and my French voyageur past. The timeless river calls…
Ottawa Valley
Reborn, out of the belly,
Darkness…Orion
Waves as he fades into the
Light. Work is an hour away.
Without you I’m an incomplete circle
A divided square, rectangular, unequal
Loosing shape, my fall has no impact
Burning out in the atmosphere like a comet
Undead, I’m brittle in the sun
Palling without my medicine
A buffoon without my Whitherspoon
Scared of the moon, a cartoon
I walk unevenly, off balance
A laughing stock without any defence
An empty wine glass on display
A smoking cigar without an ashtray
Bitter all my life like vinegar
A creature of bad habits, a voyageur
Trivial to the best of my knowledge
A block of ice in an empty fridge
My heart for you overflows into a waterfall of turbulence
As lady Victoria falls a thousand feet of jubilance
The spark lingers on long after you disappear
My eyes learning to see only when you reappear
Inamorata, you are my guilty pleasure, my only leisure
I indulge in you quietly like an aloof voyageur
Engrossed in the subtle rhythm of the drum
Beating in the gentle choreography of your bum
In your waltz I have found the tempo to my life
Your poise gives purpose to my daily strife
I wish to make you the statue of my liberty
And walk flame in hand through eternity
MUSIC TO DRIVE BY
Manitoba. Dashboard music. The west ahead.
At last the sun is gone - relax my eyes.
Kinda half-dozing, eyelids of lead.
Now slow love songs, with lots of sighs.
At last DJ plays a quick-time wake-up piece -
Jerry Lee with Chantilly Lace -
And I reach for the the volume increase :
Heavier foot on gas pedal picks up the pace.
Kristofferson now with Bobby McGee :
In the dusk I start to sing along, all smiles.
Window down - cold air wakes me,
The rig starts to consume the miles.
Two hundred to go and alone on the road.
Distant lights: some small town -
Feel the wind push as I ease the heavy load -
Maybe it’s Brandon, of only local renown.
Now Manitoba - pool-table flat - disappears,
And the prairie landscape has a slight rise:
Grab the stick and shift down the gears,
Saskatchewan surely ahead now lies.
To Indian Head - Arlo Guthrie helps me make it:
Listen to last verse of City of New Orleans:
Pull in to the Voyageur Truckstop; hiss; brake it.
Steak, eggs, hash browns, coffee: that’s what it means.
The 'music' if you like...http://izzysgumbo.blogspot.com/2009/06/voyage-de-lamour.html
~How many Ways de l'amour...
Heart stands now.Still.
Eyes ablaze with the
knowing no doubt nothing
feared nothing found and
hear.Still I am.
eYes are fixed on You.
Done the run of chase time
through seeing dreaming
being.Hear.I am standing.
Know more moving to be
soothing of sound known
found around. and I know.
You hear me.
Nothing doubted noted
songs of long and Times
ago standing I am.and
knowing grown is a mind
eYes shine bright between
lines write and hear.I am.
~voyageur de l'amour dans la Maison~
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