A study of the alveolar sacs


The bus traced the toes of the Sooke hills
Wind eddying furiously through cedar branches
Making them wave and toss and throw spray back
To the sky and heavy drops to the ground
Me in this bubble of warmth, pink and humid
And my mind turned up into those hills
The cool green canyons and crevices
The flooded and abandoned roads
The emptiness of humanity there at that moment
In this building storm.
I thought of all the fragile, warm breaths
Being taken then under root-cave and rock alcove
Hidden tunnel away from trail
A massive chorus of sighing warmth
Unheard, but some how counteracting the cold wind.
Do you hunker down? Are you waiting it
Out as I am? Ducking the rain between
Spheres of comfort? Or are you out there
Eviscerating, stopping hearts, drawing nectar,
Stealing blood, staking your claim,
Licking your wounds and waiting for the fawn
Beneath cleft who snapped its last twig
In the dim rain of that forest cacophony
As I want.


You think you’ve put it all
Together — calcified the walls
And filled the amniotic with
Fats, cholesterol, and albumen;
Enough structure to initiate
And sustain life
If only for a little while.
And so you go on
You breathe and walk and laugh
You watch chimney swallows
Explode from a church’s stack,
Rapture in the evening before
Slipping back down all at once
In silence before the rising full moon.

Some time later you find
Yourself lying in a soft bed
Beneath a clear city sky
In a yard between a fence
And a parking lot
The air is cold
But the down and your breaths
Keep you warm, and just then
A thin rift cracks through
Banding the yellow with the white
Into permanent, ecstatic deformation

Heart Throb

There will be silences
when the only sound is
of soles scraping leaves
on wet cement sidewalks.
You’ll breathe through your nose
and swallow thick half-words
that hang up in your throat
while scanning the grey sky for
texture to alight an idea on.
The bonds between flex and crackle
unsure of their command to grow or dissolve
in those quiet moments.