J u l y 2011 m E p My Quiet Space Shhhh....

THE MOST BEGUILING EYES (Stephen Fearing) Clive Cregson
You have the most beguiling eyes, that I have ever seen They can catch me up and spin me, and leave me in a dream
Though the words you speak are truthful, you know, you hurt me when you say that the time you spend with me is but a small part of your day
It seems that i'm the one that always comes a calling, and I'm asking you away from other friends but I'm waiting for the sounds of your step outside my door when the sun is setting low and the evening ends ...
I have always thaught, that the picture's what you make it, and I've always believed that my actions were my own
Tell me can you see, that to give without recieving is bound to leave my heart like a piece of molten stone
Because it seems that I'm the one, that always comes a-calling, and I'm asking you away from other friends
But Im waiting for the sounds of your step outside my door when the sun is setting low and the evening ends ...

the last time i got up this early for this long and didn't mind was in 1995 during a whirlwind tour of Stockholm.
pw, from lausanne, and i, laughed during early morning tours of the laboratories.
the girl from quebec city was observant, had triplets, and we were a merry band for a time.

how far will steely resolve get you? surely that must be the purpose, then, of it, to get you somewhere.
or perhaps simply to not get you somewhere.
poots, it's gotten you this far. wear it like a crown. you may need it later.

cartwheels; bursting;
dancing; bursting;
summer; bursting;

go back underground

"Get Out The Map"

The saddest sight my eyes can see is that big ball of orange sinking slyly down the trees
Sitting in a broken circle while you rest upon my knee this perfect moment will soon be leaving me
Suzanne calls from Boston the coffee's hot the corn is high
And that same sun that warms your heart will suck the good earth dry
With everything it's opposite enough to keep you crying or keep this old world spinning with a twinkle in its eye

Get out the map get out the map and lay your finger anywhere down
We'll leave the figuring to those we pass on our way out of town
Don't drink the water there seems to be something ailing everyone
I'm gonna clear my head
I'm gonna drink that sun
I'm gonna love you good and strong
while our love is good and young

Joni left for South Africa a few years ago and then
Beth took a job all the way over on the West Coast
And me I'm still trying to live half a life on the road
I'm heavier by the year and heavier by the load.

Why do we hurtle ourselves through every inch of time and space I must say around some corner
I can sense a resting place
With every lesson learned a line upon your beautiful face
We'll amuse ourselves one day with these memories we'll trace

Get out the map get out the map and lay your finger anywhere down
We'll leave the figuring to those we pass on our way out of town
Don't drink the water there seems to be something ailing everyone
I'm gonna clear my head
I'm gonna drink the sun
I'm gonna love you good and strong while our love is good and young

Emily saliers, Indigo girls

ir;

one needs to separate beauty; function; and form;
they coexist; they rival; they fluctuate;

search, scant words that make up a phrase;

racing; racing mind; racing heart; racing park

A case of you
Joni Mitchell

Just before our love got lost you said
"i am as constant as a northern star"
And I said, "constantly in the darkness
Where’s that at?
If you want me I’ll be in the bar"

On the back of a cartoon coaster
In the blue tv screen light
I drew a map of canada
Oh canada
And your face sketched on it twice

Oh you are in my blood like holy wine
Oh and you taste so bitter but you taste so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you
I could drink a case of you darling
And I would still be on my feet
Oh I’d still be on my feet

Oh I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I’m frightened by the devil
And I’m drawn to those ones that ain’t afraid
I remember that time that you told me, you said
"love is touching souls"
Surely you touched mine
"cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time

Oh you are in my blood like holy wine
And you taste so bitter but you taste so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you
I could drink a case of you darling
Still I’d be on my feet
And still be on my feet

I met a woman
She had a mouth like yours
She knew your life
She knew your devils and your deeds
And she said
Color "go to him, stay with him if you can
Oh but be prepared to bleed"
Oh but you are in my blood you’re my holy wine
Oh and you taste so bitter, bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you darling
Still I’d be on my feet
I’d still be on my feet

another day, another morning, another second half of my life.
one half the world runs; the other half writes.
there's no denying poots' frame is lighter today
achier, malnourished, and smaller.
flying through the park in an attempt to cross to the other side
makes for aching everything
twist, poots,
twist.

running like the wind - away, or towards
pushing pushing pushing
and sharing takes on a whole new meaning
only the word; brings us closer

can i write about love, unnoticed
can i feign guilt, where there is none
can i pray again, after all these years...

july is the fastest month; we try to hang onto each long, warm day, with our hearts
as well as our hands.

the early morning sunday ecosytem works...the hum of the airconditioner drowns out the gurgling of the fish filter;
the talk heater turns on in return.

sleeping well, and taking every little thought in it's turn, are the only two things that keep me grounded.
java catalyzes the reaction.

it's not everyday i have this luxury; words; clean kitchen; no piles of paper mobbing me from the left;
and peaking thru the sheers, new brunswick clouds signlaing not inclement weather,
but the stinking hot heat of a perfect mid-summer's day
that starts with a quiet cup of joe and 22 degrees at 6:38 am
and ends with a tired kid, a sweaty dad, a pooped mama,
and one very, very, messy house.

and thank God i have the wearwithal today; after a harry scarry 48 hours;
to remember that for many years, the wonderful age in a child that i was waiting for,
is finally here.

c'est la Bastille.
good morning.

plastic nails grow as nails grow

sunshine follows poots all the way into the next big weekened
summer, in the city
has arrived
bringing with it glories of time gone by
wonderment

as though twenty five years never happened
poots searches, not for remnants of the past
but for any connection to today...
in moments with no time
no reference points
no limits

and kites are flying, dangling, entangling
as they are carried away by the current
flailing, helpless,
rations of bliss

some things are hard to veil...
and even PCI-DSS can't stop me now.

Nowadays I hear your heart
Beating when I can't understand
And everywhere I go
There's love at hand

Nowadays I feel your arms
Wrap around my dreams in the night
And when I'm far away
I'm embraced in light

Used to be I felt so all alone
Used to be I dealt with panic on my own

But nowadays I see your face
Peering through the eye of a storm
It leads me to a place
That's safe and warm

Used to be I felt so all alone
Used to be I dealt with devils on my own

But nowadays I hear your song
Ringing through my heart and soul
And when I've had enough
Your love takes hold

I just throw my hands up
And your love takes hold

bleary eyed, but not totally disastrous, poots is up at 6:18 am

it appears, through the sheers, to be an even more spectacular morning than even yesterday.

anne's linden tree, the trunk that is, just where the branches separate, is projected, larger than life, onto the neighbours brick wall, by the morning sun rising crisply over the park.

no matter how hard i try;
all i see around me is beautiful
all my aching body feels is wonder
and
there's more not to say than to say

and as i glance again at the linden's shadow;
all i see is a mess of tiny branch outlines, some moving, delicately,
some arms open greeting the day
and it dawns on me

how to string together the days of summer
and hang them on a tree
these days particularly are hot;
hot with fire;
in my belly, i was once told.

how to arrange one's thoughts mindfully;
from the bigger to the smaller,
and all the ones in between.
i have the luxury to do this now
as i always have
the only true freedom to behold;
the only real playground
of a tormented mind

cliches ringing truly though painfully
in a life going nowhere and everywhere at the same time
all directions are possible; available;
costly
beautiful
falling
falling
falling

elusive english diction
to be avoided at all costs.

that is all there is.

a free rock concert
from our bedroom!
greeted us through the lovliest summer day
and aching, aching, poots sings

Whistling over trestles
And past the graveyard sign
We cast our wayward line
Inside a wishing well
We've just a wish and an empty vessel
A hole to fill with days
On a road where children stray
Then pray there is no hell
And as for heaven, well

If seeing
If seeing is believing
I'll believe it
Believe it when I see it
I'll believe it when I see it
With my own two eyes

This ain't no random shuffle
There's reason in these rhymes
A season and a time
In a climate of fear and blood
In the tavern two men did scuffle
Their drunken battle moaned
They groaned like cattle groan
No diamonds here in the rough
And as for peace and love

If seeing
If seeing is believing
I'll believe it
Believe it when I see it
I'll believe it when I see it
With my own two eyes

And when faced with a difficult decision
Would you listen to your heart or mind
We're bound to waste all our free will and ambition
If we got no vision and we got no spine
And as for peace of mind

If seeing
If seeing is believing
I'll believe it
Believe it when I see it
I'll believe it when I see it
With my own two eyes

                    Ron Sexsmith
                    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MFww3fLhjl8

a stiffer neck greets little poots; she stares at one spot
traffic woes and summer sun
arch your back, ready or not
here we come.

the morning papers say the same thing
news is about civilization chaos
really?

a new project means a change of direction, back on the train
you'll have your name on some funner things
and they'll remember you now.

and the little one grows no so little.
taking her silly place in the world.
the crowd laughs, and being serious in public is becoming grave,
too grave for my mini me.
there's got to be a surival technique that works
and i still use it.
laughter really is, the best medicine for this crumbling world of ours.

and a new duvet would be nice.

they sat in the mezzanine; everyone could see
them, but they saw no one - except each other

everyone knows the feeling they share
oblivious to the world around
singular joy
... young love

and singling out young is my intention here
for love; like everything else, ages
not like a worn out leaf or a pair of jeans
but the beginnings of love ages too
falling in love ages
and at our age, you're likely not kissing on the mezzanine;
for the combination of youth; and love;
makes only one thing that happens
when you are young.

and you can only really know that
once you are getting old.
but it's okay.
i was once that young couple
kissing on the mezzanine
and i indeed, know what it's worth.

Heavenly sunrise
Welcoming our day
It's a heavenly love
That you and I survey

The morning wears her
Golden autumn dress
It's a heavenly love
That you and I possess

Though our pockets are empty
We won't let it get us down
There is so much to be thankful for

Pessimism's so tempting
It's spreading all over town
Where there is love, there's an open door

All the birds are leaving
I hear it in their song
It's a heavenly love
That you and I look upon

Heavenly sunset
Worshiping the earth
It's a heavenly love
And we know what it's worth

It's a heavenly love
And we know what it's worth

Ron Sexsmith
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0mAKZFNpYKM

i'm here to keep track.
someone needs to do it.

everything just seems to flow together; into a big continuum that is hard to keep track of.
there's her and him; and her and her; and then there's them, and us, and her again.
oh yeah, there's those up the street, and them back at home, and him over there and then there's everyone else.

yes, these days, one needs to keep track.
it's the Montreal summer.
it's the visitor summer.
it's the neighbours summer.
it's the new camp summer.
best of all,
it's finally hot.