In the cold and white
Beneath a bright sun
Everything is over-exposed
We are over-exposed
But when we remain unmoving
When we hold our breath
And simply stop
And simply listen
We hear the things we never hear
There is the woodpecker
There is the ice
Expanding beneath the snow
Echoing in otherworldly thrums
While in the distance – cars
And we stand in stillness
We become the stillness
I can hear
The sound of breathing
Rhythmic next to me
In the middle of the night
Like a soft sung lullaby
Taking me to safe places;
It is the antidote to isolation
And a reminder of the fortune
That has favored me
Today there is joy
And we do not know why
Not even where
We take it in like sun
On a day
That was supposed to be grey
We store it in jars
To pour out in times of darkness
Like fine wine shared together
Over whispers and under covers
Today there is joy
A welcome friend.
Three words
Change everything
Mean everything
Claim everything
I love you
I love you
I love you
The only real spell
That ever was
i hear the furnace
like background static to life
sometimes the humidifier
sending jets of water
to keep us from drying out
the distant sound of a car
rolling past over the snow
and a general hum
that reminds a person
they are still alive
BING! An email has arrived
these are the sounds of the day
no other voices except the TV
this is a quiet place
i can hear keyboard clacking
tap, tap, tapping
oh wait! that’s me
sending this telegram to you
somewhere in space and time.
my voice is a bell
that when rung resounds
to the ends of the earth;
it is a witness,
it is a messenger,
and it will never return
empty-handed.
we,
we like the broken things
we like the bird
with the broken wings
so much pain
it no longer sings
we like the broken things
because they remind us
of our broken selves
and if we can fix them
maybe we can fix ourselves
we,
we like the broken things
the beaten down dog
hiding from all that we bring
but we’ll keep trying
because failure,
failure will tear us apart
never mind that this dog
has teeth
learned to bite
when their love dried up
but,
but we weren’t always this way
used to be closer to everyone else
afraid of the strange in the light of day
afraid of guys like red-haired Mikey K
when i was riding with the police
and they saw him lying on the tracks
foaming at the mouth
and in another world
“you been giving blowjobs again”
they laughed him,
they teased him,
and i just sat there mute
pretended i never knew him
and by the next year he was dead
killed with a shotgun
while he was trying to rob a home
but he, he still lives in my head,
he was a broken thing
maybe someone we could have helped
probably not…it’s easier to think like that
Now,
we like the broken things
we like to try and stop their pain,
the blackness and the weight life brings
because maybe,
maybe it means we can stop our own
maybe through them ours can be shown
but it’s never that easy
because the broken things have sharp edges
and whether the want to or not
they will slice into our lives
like teribbly keen, misahandled knives
me,
i love the broken things
because someone has to love them
not for what they can give
but maybe for what they need,
for what they need to live
and if i can love the broken things
it’s possible i can love me too
i can love me through and through
but i just gotta remember
the broken things
they can also break you
this is the opposite,
the opposite of what we want them to do
we don’t want them to drag us
into the dark and the deep blue
we want to lift and be lifted
into the brighter light of day
into the brighter light of what’s true
let these be the things,
these be the things we pursue.
My column in this week’s Winkler Morden Voice and Altona Rhineland Voice newspapers.
the distance from horrible to happy
this is not nearly so wide
it is but a trick of the light
for one to cross in a single stride
just don’t look down as they say
just take one step and then another
and look straight ahead…into the future
for the rope is the present
and the gulf is the past;
so we,
we shall remain fixed upon the horizon
as a ship is fixed upon safe harbour
being pulled as though by a chain
to the dock
and the waiting warm embrace
of arms that have always been there,
of arms that shall be there again.
This past year I have had my readers than any other year since the blog first started in 2004. By a large margin. According to the numbers the year will end with more than 10,000 views from more than 3,000 people. In total 88 I have hosted visitors from 88 countries the top five of which are Canada, United States, India, United Kingdom, and Australia.
62 percent of my readers are from Canada, 90 percent of which are from the Pembina Valley.
Likely some of this popularity has to do with increased posting related to my poem a day project which will lead to a new collection of poetry in 2026 called Anno Vitae: 2025.
It is gratifying and strange all at once. I believe my writing will outlast me. It will not last forever but, for people who really want to know me, to know me at a place closer to the core, you will find that in my writing. I have never claimed that the writing is good, in the same way I have never claimed to be an expert at breathing. I write. I just write.
Certainly the success of my poetry collections and their sales have helped bolster numbers no doubt. There are now three collections – Psalms of Bone and Sinew, Songs in Blue Minor, and The Canyon Lake Poems.
Tech Bit: Most of my visitors are Windows users but a decent number are also Linux followed by Mac and Chrome OS. Google refers most visitors but there have also been some sent by ChatGPT, Gemini and Perplexity.ai as well as Reddit, Facebook, Instagram and odd things like classroom.google.com.
In the 21 year history of the blog I have had just under 100,000 views.
All I can say is thanks.
Harnessing Chaos 