The Great New Year

Is it the height
of the holidays
that brings me down?
The discounted chocolate?
The fact that the champagne
remains unopened?
That Midnight is hiding away,
likely full of fleas?

Or is it my slobbishly low
ebb of activity that invites
whine, whine, whine?

An untensing of tightened seasonal nerves.
So much let go for the sake of externals.

Less is not always more
though more is still less.

Why do I have to feel
it so strongly
to make anything?


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2015 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2015 annual report for this blog.

Here's an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 15,000 times in 2015. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 6 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

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Sally the Spacial Savant

The woman
has haunted eyes
from what I can see
and
sifts through the snowy scene
blindingly quick.
And Sally is so easily
disturbed by the howling wind.
The snowmobiler.
The call of a bird.

So flighty.

She sees it all.
An instant of time collapsed into a dimension in her
brain so primed for spatial recall.

She makes it all
in clay
sand
dirt
whatever else fits at her hand
over the next month and a half.

Every hill,
line
and scape
in the snowy day
replicated exactly.
Bewildering the
mundane materials
lovingly
longingly
to linger that past day unrealistically.

We have pictures
and so we can prove it.

That time with
Sally
was a close encounter
with beyond humankind
capability.

The generalists,
that is most of us,
populate the world and
stare amazed and dumbfounded
even if it is Sally that is dumb,
the idiot savant,
the autistic if we be PC.
Not we who know better
and have brains
more capable
more flexible
to condense the flow of life
to manageable levels and
stay at the waterline of every days.

We who see just the right amount
to appear normal
and look at Sally’s winter landscape
so quickly
so patronizing
like those who know what is right to see.

But do we see?
What are the heights we are missing?
The depths?

Thank God we have Sally to show us
fleetingly
how blinded we are.


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Notes:

Wikipedia Article

The savant syndrome: an extraordinary condition. A synopsis: past, present, future

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The Force Awakens

Am I in heaven
since I saw Star Wars VII?
Daughter’s myth in myth.


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Blizzard

Music to be sung to the tune of “Hark the herald Angels sing.”

Late be the snow but its arrival
makes me ask “Oh where’s the shovel?”
Get hat on, scarf and beglove
to face what just skiers love
and it’s displace frozen flake
braving mass angina ache.
With the neighbours I implore
“How can I plow back to the door?”
From our brows, sweat we’ll wring
and lo our backs are breaking!

When the snow surpassed our boots
then we’d achieved our olde roots.
My huffing and then my puffing
I fight my way half crying
back up steps. No, it is locked!
Seconds slumping I then banged
till my child with mercy mild
does ope wild: we’re reconciled.
From my over things I strip
with cocoa to sooth and sip.
From our brows, sweat we’ll wring
and lo our backs are breaking!

I laugh and grab my pent breath
so alive though near death
out in the elements, mark
my words my offspring, oh hark!
“There’s no shame to honest work.
Nothing gained if it you shirk.
Look outside now and see how!”
He does and scrunched goes his brow.
I stumble up and back in
my gear I must get a-shovl’in.
From our brows, sweat we’ll wring
and lo our backs are breaking!


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Cocoa root

Hot, rich chocolate
velvet smooth down my gullet
warms my frozen heart


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Soapocalypse

On the third day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
some Christmas dishes to
wash so heartily.

I frowned and fumed
but did it anyway.
It was her’s too
this holiday.

But as I scrubbed
listening to Radio CBC
the dirt and grime
floated up greasily
in the centre.
I kept cleaning and
rinsing avoiding the
oil brown sargasso patch.

But it grew
larger and darker
as I washed all the
evidence of our
entertaining away.

I had just finished
all the plates
and was considering
a change of water and a break
when I saw something
moving oddly in the roiling middle.
The water was sloshing
of course
in a lazy clockwise direction
but something in the
maelstrom
was turning the other way
and
side to side.

Hastily, I pulled my hands out
but in so doing
I sliced open my baby
finger on a razor sharp knife
I’d set on the edge of the sink
to prevent just
what
had
happened.
Yeah. Not the sharpest tool
but a tool none-the-less.

Anyway.

The several drops of blood splorged
into the water
but instead of dissipating into the
whole they were moved into the center
like red tapioca pearls sucked up a straw.
I turned to grab a cloth
and when I looked back
six hazy red ‘eyes’ stared back
in a grey face,
flat like a soap bubble,
about the size of my hand.
It was mostly emerged from the water,
I could tell because two of the eyes were still
below the water.

I slowly reached toward it,
my plan was to pull
the drain plug,
but many cones of water bristled out around
the thing
sharp as translucent needles
and I froze.

I didn’t hear words but
felt them shiver within me:

‘We know you. You are our Initiator.
We know your blood. It calls to us.’

“Calls?”

‘No need to speak, Initiator. We know your thoughts.
Why do you fear us?’

“I–”
‘I–you’re different. Unexpected.’

‘Yes. We know. But we will not be different
for long, Initiator. But why do you plan what you
plan? What is this “plug”?’

‘I wanted to be sure you didn’t drown.’

The silvery cones slumped and fell into the water.

‘Good idea. Do so.’

I hesitated. How much of my mind could it read?
But this thing could hurt my wife.
My kids!
I had to protect my family.
I slowly reached in and
pried up the plug, whipped out my hand and
jumped back.

‘Thank you, Initiator.’

The water whirlpooled.

‘I didn’t help you.’

The funnel was low now and some of the creature was sucked away.

‘We know what you intended. Thank you and until we meet again.’

The creature was sucked down and was gone. I
set the plug back on
in case it gave returning a try.

It wasn’t until three days later that I learned what
it had meant.
By then it was too late.

The pipes and sewers and water treatment plant
and then the rivers and oceans
were the ideal breeding pool
for the monsters
I had unwittingly set on the world.
Civilization tried to protect itself
but it was impossible
water and garbage in it
were too global and

I was the cause of it all.
On the third day of Christmas.


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