Poet's Statement: I have always thought that poetry can change lives, and still do. I believe artists have a responsibility to step up to the mark, and say the things, others, perhaps less privileged, would like to, or are unable to say. If humanity is to survive the current and impending ecological disaster beyond the next generation, we must learn new ways of living together.
When the money lender closes her door,
displacing any sense of association
or good relations, you wonder
if the old woman will pause long enough
to take any account of the dislocation.
When the proverbial nose
is put out of joint for the last time,
you wonder if the filter tip
burning like a Roman Candle
belongs to the long litany of anything
that can go wrong.
When the father of the bride concludes
she will not buy the book
you spent a lifetime writing, you wonder
if the planet without a visa
really is just another excuse for killing
as the homesteader expands
across the prairie
like stars in a night of passing buffalo.
What’s sought is no more tangible
than river sounds.
The shoots of stars.
So, we wait in the dusk, half-blind.
Our destiny temporarily on hold.
As we saw fallen oak and ash.
Hagg Wood trembling
in hail and snow.
Two brothers driven
by Siberian winds. Collecting logs.
Unaware of the moon. Frozen holly.
Unaware of each other. But for love.