CHAPEAU OUBLIE

assis a  Dunn's Delicatesen
892 rue Saint Catherine Ouest
occupe
attente dans sa solitude
regarder
au sandwich de viande fumee
sur le jaune plaque de melmac
a cote de son chapeau oublie
le poete
l'homme a femmes
le chanteur
sa voix
remettre a la chanson
restant dela du desir
elle attende pour Leonard
de revenir pour son chappeau
a l'heure de fermeture


...translation....

FORGOTTEN HAT

sitting at Dunn's Delicatesen
892 Saint Caatherine St. West
busy
waiting in her solitude
staring
at the smoked-meat sandwich
on the yellow melmac plate
beside his forgotten hat
the poet
the ladies man
the singer
his voice
surrendering to song
remaining beyond desire
she waits for Leonard
to come back for his hat
at closing time


..................Leonard Cohen forgetting...... his hat at Dunn's Deli
 in Montreal....written in the "style" of Jacques Prevert

SABLE BRUSH

I was once springy, strong, fine and soft
resilient yet responsive
holding my shape well
flexible, lively
with a generous belly
a small nickel ring
attached to my comfortable body
never shedding a hair
laying here uncared for
soaked, worn, dried out, brittle
out of shape and weak
unable to bend
corroded and and cracked
losing my hair
butchered and bruised
from all the splashing, rubbing and scraping
staring at her innocence and beauty
dressed all in white
a state of spiritual clairity
unspoiled
resisting change
afraid that her blank emptiness may fade
the canvas stares back at me

TREASURE

a creative paradise with no desires
where only dreams are formed
breathing into the clouds
expressing in symbols and metaphors
a poem about my soul
without judgement
where the power of subconscious
gets rid of the chatter
and childlike curiosity keeps me young
wandering in the present
sometimes lost
as the spontaneous passionate energy flows
from the deep source within
having an openness to the universe
creating the courage to let go
painting a canvas of imagination
without expectations
from a treasure
my right brain

NO OPTION

walking the life giving road
coming from a place I walked before
my reluctant eyes looking for nothing
searching for memories forgotten
lost
naked
blind
my sight covering a vast landscape
going into the dark cave within
taking the only road I see
an opportunity to become a spiritual warrior
where the sun breaks through the clouds
touching the earth dancing to the drums
with loneliness and desperate fights over
a new awareness guides the being
forging on to truth
towards that distant horizon
there is no option

IMAGINE

IMAGINE

after the storm
the butterfly comes to the flower
covered with new pollen
in the valley of the mother's garden
near the bird nest at the crossroads
slowly, lofting with the wind
she soars higher than the pansies
smiling at us

BEHIND THE DOOR

the door remains closed
hiding some unknown consciousness
of unconventional wisdom
beneath the sea of infinite vibrations
within the eternal ecstasies of the imagination
controlled by the mystic secrets of the mind
in touch with the perception of the essential nature
of something old or nothing new
surrounded by the mistakes of reality
where the door of perception remains unpasteurized
without filters or conditions
remaining true to the pure universe
of mescaline and whole wheat bread
where naked mummies dance with Tibetan monks
hallucinating to the embodied spirits of lonely nuns
who cry out in hope and forgiveness
in harmony
behind the door

DRESDEN CLOCK

on the mantlepiece counting down the minutes
before another death
ticking on her face of denial
entrapped within her antiqued mind
unable to turn a blind eye
or replace the chains drummed up inside
while the seonds tick away
she grinds away in deadly charm
remembering the momentous death
of the aloof spinster
and the detached life she lived
while watching the handsome dogs
eat the dead parrot
in silence
the ticking stops


......this in response to AUNT HELEN by TS Eliot...and the line ... the Dresden clock continued ticking on the mantlepiece