Starting
Guy at book store...
Driving at night in Montreal...
Drummondville...
Biff...
New Brunswick
Guidebook maps...
Lost on a mountain road off hwy 17...
Dalhousie...
Black Point...
Shediac...
Prince Edward Island
The Bridge...
Camping...
Charlottetown...
Breakfast...
Shopping...
Wool...
Mortification...
Nova Scotia
Halifax...
Alex, Maddy & Joe...
Lost Amanda...
The Bitter End...
Halifax
Sushi...
Town...
Fort...
Dinner...
Alex's School...
Breakfast...
Peggy's Cove, Lunenburg
Conservation area...
Peggy's Cove...
Lunenburg...
Hunt's Point
Cottages...
Whales...
Migrane...
Digby, Sandy Cove, St. John
Long Drive...
Sandy Cove...
Lobster...
Ferry...
Biff...
St. John...
The Long Road Home
New Brunswick...
Quebec...
Ontario...
Haikus from the Road
7:00 pm, Friday | Barn on fire |
Look a the cows run
As the barn roof collapses
And the flames climb high
|
Driving in darkness
Soot on the wind turns my head
Guttering it burns
|
9:00 pm, Friday | Civil Engineering |
The roads wound around
As we drove through Montreal
It made my head spin
|
Why did we do it?
Our rebar revolution.
We needed a bridge.
|
Smelly pigs and fog
Quiet classical music
Darkest night and pot
|
Charred spit and gristle
With an apple in its mouth
Slowly turns the pig
|
Beneath the white cloud
And between the misty fog,
The CN Tower
|
Running from the fog
In a costal morning light
Suddenly: a cliff.
|
All the alarms shriek:
Bells, whistles, beeps crescendo
I gasp, then silence.
|
Once when I was young
I held between my fingers
Sulfur. And struck it.
|
1:00 pm, Saturday | Mountain view |
A distant mountain
Covered in red and gold trees,
Reflects in a lake.
|
God bless the Polish
Beauty and isolation
A church and a view
|
I'm stuck in a trap,
Being lifted to my doom
Where my claws won't clack
|
Clickity-Clack-Clack
I walk with bones on my back
Down the sandy track
|
3:00 pm, Saturday | The season fall |
Yellow and orange
Burst out from the green forest
And red flames brightly
|
And there is beauty
And there is blood red luster
In my final fall
|
4:00 pm, Saturday | Unlucky bear |
The salmon are gone
The honey bees migrated
The camper are packed
|
Honey and berries
And salmon thick in the stream
And one careful shot
|
The moon's in the west
Tidal pools swell, rivers rise
And the ocean comes
|
Acadian coast
Too bad all the fish are gone
You can't fight the tide
|
11:00 am, Sunday | Ourselves |
A tall brown-haired girl
Walks, smiles and chats to herself
Then she laughs out loud
|
Early explorer
Finally leaves the shale coast
Hungry and tired
|
City of logic
Laws, bread and circuses, lies
Crumbled in the sun
|
Roads and discipline
The heel of Rome on your throat
My centurion
|
A castle built high,
Detailed with turrets and flags
Gives way to the tide.
|
Boulders on mountains
Rocks tumble in the rivers
Pebbles in the beach
|
As I passed Derek
I clocked him in the head
Intentionally
|
I've got some advice
Lock the door before you poop
Trust me on this one
|
We drove to the coast
We didn't see any whales
But we thought we did
|
This much I'll tell you
Jelly fish in Sandy Cove
Are better than whales
|
We left from Digby
And cross the Bay of Fundy.
St. John by midnight.
|
There's not a ripple
And, across the river Styx
The ferryman grins
|
My wife is frigid
Our bed is cold and clammy
She won't lift her skirts.
|
The slippery blan-
Ket is heavy on my toes,
And I'm shivering.
|
Green, red and gold hills
Between which a river runs
Flowing to the sea
|
Hiding in the hills
We are the last resistance
Tomorrow we die
|
I melt then surface
I crack, bend, break and crumble
I'm worn by the sea
|
Aluminum peg
I'm pounding it through the shale
No stone will stop me.
|
3:00 pm, Saturday | The Other |
Giggles when tickled
Lanky legs and soft brown eyes
Mike likes cuddling
|
My little monster
Always all over the place
Like a butterfly
|
5:00 pm, Saturday | Religion |
John Knox was a Scott
In Ottawa there stands a
Church that bears his name.
|
What is religion?
A good excuse for killing...
It's always been thus.
|
A calf sucks my hand
Al the way up to my wrist
It misses its mom.
|
Season sow our fate
We rend our lives from the earth
And worship the sun.
|
No gas or chicken
We got lost to find ice cream
St. Hyacinthe
|
Ugly mothered son
Of a diseased ridden goat
Raised on swill and dirt.
|
|
