A Fossicker's Notebook*
(round)
these clouds do not conform
to any known structure
columns of cement
prop up the library
serious horse-tails
an accumulation of eskers
striations in the atmosphere
match ripples in the sand
the automatic sliding doors
open with an angelic chorus
delirious forces
a crew of buskers
gargoyles of sand and clay
perch on the cut-banks
taps turn on by themselves
the urinals watch with an evil eye
circus bears and horses
columns of mill-cloud
piles of white appliances
mushrooming at the dump
photocopy the red tubes
onto every new initiative
those clouds look like river-stones
those river-stones look like clouds
cellular towers of spruce
on every high point
an alluvial deposit
of wrecked cars below
(shiny)
buses supplant
the natural order of things
taxi-cabs lined up at the airport
first thing in the morning
invader species: suits and ties
straight from Victoria
running on one spot
is good for the treadmill
she dreamt she was caught
naked without her purse
step one: remove nozzle
step five: pay cashier
we ran out over two hours ago, sir
do you want to take a rain-check?
a little nest-egg for just-in-case
rests in the bottom of the mattress
busted in twice, the second time
to grab all their new stuff
stock-piles of dead trees
loggers banking on the future
the clatter of the train
bangs into everything
they all sat together in the bar
spinning their wheels
there's more money in busts
then there is in booms
what shape do you see?
I see a gravy-train
a jack-rabbit jumping in and out
between cars in the traffic
the clang of work-keys
on morning beer bottles
stock replies: at the end of the day
it's all about the bottom line
don't be ridiculous, of course
you have to pay the piper
the white-coated lab-rat confirms
mazes aren't that much fun
shh, I hear them coming:
duck into my cubicle
(rough)
dandelion-smear under my chin
means I like clutter
natural alternatives
grow behind tin-foiled windows
welcome to the club:
here's your wet t-shirt
hello? can you hear me now?
we were doing it all night
they've dug out the whole hill
you can see way too much
an engraved Zippo lighter
ends up in a buddy's pocket
spare change? sir?
nope, it's all accounted for
three towers like markers:
this is what I call home
the last guy that said that in this bar
was beaten to a pulp
the slide of mercury
down a thin tube of stupidity
the whitest of white cars
side-swiped at the intersection
a clear-cut cemetery
mucks up the corner
mosquito watermarks
i.d.'s my windshield
two drunk teenagers
washed out of an accident scene
straddling the line
between two express check-outs
could you call back at five?
that's when I'm having supper
and he lost it; plowed right in -
talk about a drive-through
next time, Miss Frost-Bite
don't wear open-toed shoes
put his skidoo right through the ice
blood and gas spills everywhere
he sets his iPod on shuffle
searches for his sound-track
(fossils)
what did Fraser know
filling his canoe with journals?
city-hall has moved into a new bordello
read all about it in the Fort George Tribune
those trees are too goddam spindly
run 'em down
lines of miscommunication
tangled up with the static
shuffle the whores
further up the street
flat-beds of giant I-beams
dangerously close to crossing the river
an old man slumped down
in front of the war on TV
before twinning any bridge
be sure to search for Native artifacts
houses carefully moved
higher up the flood-plain
six feet of sandy-loam
right behind our house
a spray of gang-related tags
painted on every bus-stop
(greenish)
seasons of red pines
peppers the ridge
the thirty-foot RV at the mall
is drowning in raffle tickets
caution: chipper-truck on full-bore
please vacate the stationery aisle
a row of new houses
sit uncomfortably on a clear-cut
okay, let's change tactics:
let's slash and burn
four by four by eight
makes one cord
house-plans imported in
heat leaks out
minus thirty-odd for a week
then boom -- skating rink
nobody wants to see that much
flesh spilling over leather
a parade of breasts
on the hottest day of the year
a fine example of mass wastage:
that damn new road to the university
another train wreck?
could've lost the entire bank
and now presto! like magic
the forest disappears
a thin and lonely poplar
copies Emily's painting
ten big-box stores
scramble for a parking spot
juvenile birches stagger
through downtown renewal
you can drive your 4x4
straight into sockeye spawning beds
the smell of hotdogs so strong
turpentine spilling into the Fraser
if this means warmer winters
I'm all for it
(oddities)
the sky knuckling up
the land knuckled under
a crow postures on a steeple
a veiled threat?
flat roof-topped flood-plains
sand sifting into the eaves
incessant drumming -
turn off your thought-police
a man in the theatre
chokes on his own phone
this murderous weather
piling up day after day
(translucent)
the man with the yellow gloves
pulling out the day
wizen stumps
tree-trunks that defy gravity
train-cars sloshing back and forth
below in the yard
the daylight all strung-out
like the soup-bus line
she's planted herself
face-down in the daisies
a mouthful of sun
over an unconscious day
a constant low brewing
over the new casino
a steady current of container trucks
pushing, pushing, pushing
clumps of news-sheets
unread in the land-fill
a yellow canoe holding on tight
to the roof-rack's every word
a car-full of tourists
trapped in the crescents
things got sorted out
in the wash of gravel
a swarm of teenagers
high on the hill
see what I mean?
now try it with the other eye
one large fisted agate
raised into the crisp twilight
*Fossicking is the art and craft of ranging over the land, collecting minerals, gems, and semi-precious stones from the surface.