Down the street
From where eye live
On the road named Atwood’s Road
Lives Mrs. Atwood
With her family gone —
She talks of the cellar hole
On the hill by the shore
And how ANYONE could build
There, right up from the foundation.
Once a man from England
Brought me a cup of tea
As I woke in a farmer’s guest bed
And I wrote the Englishman’s wife
A letter upon his sudden death
In a head on collision
Telling her nothing happened
Where did the onion
In all its variety
Come from?
In all its layers
With paper, paper protection
Where and how did our sublime
Fruit
Originate?
Answer: It has always existed
And always will
In one form or another
Boy I want to dance
To Moonlight Sanata dressed
Diaphanously
I am happy here —
Sun filling my eyes and house
Black cat on my lap
Watched the sun rise twice
First from ocean horizon
Then from narrow clouds
Flock of geese honking
Overhead to where? To me
My flight of music
Eye am off
The Silver & Steel Blue
of Dr Blair’s hair
& Eyes
Eye am on
to the riches of russet
ruby chestnut, warmth
in that telling array of red
& brown
to be found now brimming my heart
& Eye have chosen a dress
of the deepest luminosity
in that sacred range
to wear on the night of my taking
The man of my dream
Has hair the colour
Of this month’s roadside
Tree stalks and shrubbery
Sandy cinnamon red
Driven through
In afternoon sun
As I set out to find him:
The engineer for my art
My giant Canadian maple leaf
Eye don’t have to leave
My House
The House on The Hawk
I fought for in Court
unrepresented —
Eye don’t have to leave
Cape Sable Island
for idyllic privacy
on the ocean in Jordan Bay
Eye have the ocean
lots of it
here
Eye don’t have to listen
to friends, ex-friends
who say I should get
“a fresh start”
Eye am in My Fresh Start
here
where Eye have come into My Own
as an established artist
happy in my morning studio
dreaming of my love
in bed @ night
who alone holds the option
of uprooting me
