193. Victoria Park, July

Darren P. (Oct 12, 2013)

https://es.foursquare.com/v/victoria-park/4bdda1c00ee3a593bafd2db0

your eyes

glow gold

in the summer

sunshine

your smile

as warm as

Canadian

midsummer

can be

by the river

watching

swans and

children

play

time so

slow

and the

air so

sweet

even then

I’m not sure

I realized the beauty of

such a moment

simple,

wondrous

as you are

as we are

gold glints

shining in summer

sunbeams,

beaming

brilliant

March 21, 2020

Montréal, QC

192. sonneries de la STM

https://dcmontreal.wordpress.com/2017/06/20/montreal-to-allow-recognize-rear-bus-door-entry/

ding

ding

ding

light

green flashes in the

wintry dark lit

artificial by the

pasty

metro

lights

beep

beep

beep

go the sleeping

passengers

one by one

three by three

through the

turnstile

gates

March 21, 2020

Montréal, QC

190. To the pregnant woman

To the pregnant woman that
missed the
Grand River Transit
bus 7B to Fairview
Park:

I didn't realize you
just missed the
bus I just
left:

by the time I
realized, you were
running after it,
desperate:
did the driver not
realize either?

your dark skin
glistening in the
hot summer air,
late for an interview
or from one?

I wanted to offer a
ride, I thought as I
already started back to my
apartment, and you
were already walking
to the next
stop.

Stay put, I want to
say - the next bus
will be
by in a few
minutes - (I
check this later,
for my own
conscience)

I want to tell you
this,
too -

but I was tired and
sweaty and
wanted to
get home
myself -

selfish or just
a missed
opportunity, I
wondered, and
still
do;
with a
twinge of
regret and guilt
as I write this,
hoping.

August 21, 2018
Waterloo, ON

188. harbour dining

August:
and the seagulls
circle

smiling ship-sails
rest their
contented wings

scavenging above the
sapphire-strewn
surface,
cackling, boasting,
gossiping

children shriek
and call their
hungry
friends,
beckoning with strips of partly-eaten
lettuce from
lunch's ham
sandwich

sparkled concrete
blazes my
heat-soaked
toes;

gulls comingle with
assuming toddlers,
planes take-off of
life off,
unseeing

glistening, the water
hums and
whirs,
silver sapphire
in the
waning
sun.

July 3, 2018
Waterloo, ON

185. My Shoulder

As we laugh
and joke of stupid
things -
your tousled hair leans on my
shoulder.

I was recovering from the
awkward lack of
conversation
earlier in the
bar

so I am taken
by
surprise

I graze your arm,
hesitantly.

Your breath
smells of
cider

(I know
later on
it's also
halitosis)

You are a
puppy

I had no choice
but to sit, stunned,
silent

night continues swishing
past the
muggy
car windows

Aug 6, 2017
Halifax, NS

183. Coro a bocca chiusa

All their mouths are
closed
to me:

final wisps of daylight
stroke their weary
eyes -
mother to son, to
daughter -

now is their sleeping
time;
halls long
devoid of footsteps
in their echoing
bellies

closed
to me:
wandering down their
silent paths -
birds muttering in the
dying
day -

closed to me -
a language only
cedars
know:
rustling in the twilit air:
rustling lullabies to passersby
who believe themselves
awake -


https://thevisionaryfolkphotographer.files.wordpress.com/2013/09/glow-dalhousieuniv_4191.jpg?w=810


https://thevisionaryfolkphotographer.files.wordpress.com/2013/09/glow-dalhousieuniv_4282.jpg?w=810

July 16, 2017
Dalhousie University, Halifax, NS

182. Squirrel Nest

Scurrying across the plushy cotton,
sole observer of the field:
tiny tracks the only small reminder,
almost undetectable -

Darting up the gnarly bark -
swift & sure &
quick as night though just as dark -
sylvan ninja

Up the lattice now -
Branches sway,
Fingers in the wind;
Ropes of wood

Little nest of rotting leaves and soot:
how imperfect!
Slip you in your qui-ver-ing burrow -
quick as ever!

You in yours and I in mine;
Shi-ver-ing despite your fur?
Nestled snug within your home -
all is just irrelevant!

181. Torontonian Months

Sushi without
fish and
water without
ice!

Lessons back-to-
back and lessons just
alone;

Sweat and smiles and
suitcases and
backpacks -

birthdays and
cards and
Australia and
San
Francisco -

restaurants and
catching
up:

new friends and
old ones -
new buildings and
old -

smoke and homeless and
pizza and
LV:
these are the sights and sounds and
smells!

180. Part-Time Torontonian

i am
yet a
stranger,
tourist -
             visitor!

without your hand in mine,
it is all still magic and
miracle to
me!

the bustle, the
people, the
music, and
the
food!

But how it was nicest,
your hand in mine -

The fresh
breeze
in the October, bright-lit
city -

Breath entangled in
eager bliss!!

179. Love Betwixt Cities

Give me your eyes
and I’ll give you
mine –

Give me your love
and I’ll give you
mine –

Give you my heart
and you’ll take
mine - !

Give me your heart
and I’ll give you
mine!

These are what the
streetcars
sing…!

176. Toronto Half-Life

sketches of a relationship between _______

I – јабука

Beauty is a liquid gold –

The sun is

on you or –

you

are

the sun!

Gilt, your

silver hairs

glisten, caught like

rare riches

in a sea of ebony – every

marble Hercules

and god

incarnated.

my fingers burn

at the

paper

cup;

tongue burns

at the

apple

brew

I have nowhere

but to

melt,

gold glistening

everywhere,

You

Alone

shine

with its

molten glow - !

II - ноћ

breath crystallized in

the crisp, late

night:

ears still ring

with chords and

trills and

fioratura - mine,

at least –

Light meets

window;

glass meets

the

eyes:

Feet crunch on the

carpet;

soft as the

grudging

snow:

keys -

checks for

company –

it’s dark out the

window, but

lights poke the

tender

sky;

I am seeing,

seeing:

couch, table,

television;

there’s a

hallway,

and there are

rooms:

there is a

computer and a

swivelly chair and

a mattress with

a wolf blanket,

it’s mildly juvenile,

but

adorable –

embarrassed, expectant –

I’m not sure how I

should respond –

he has prickly pins

blacking out at

me

I ask to kiss him

he blinks,

bewildered, surprised

as we meet

eyes

again

like an animal,

a toddler, seeing for the

first time:

this adorable

mountain of a

man

I am moving,

shifting already

The lips linger on

me, until it

forms in speech:

in that moment

your petulant eyes

implore me to stay

and yet the

briefness, chasteness

of those hushed and

starry-eyed, unhurried moments

haunts

me

warmed me

in that still slowly blossoming spring

snow did not cover

the barefaced

sidewalk

we walked in

silence, the

lamplights smiling

two figures

splotching their

pristine

path –

III - јутро

From 21 stories high,

they form a

metropolitan fugue

below:

a sea of swishing

Doppler effects,

a griddle of frying

vehicles –

The tender spring sun

pours onto my

curious skin:

light pours on

everything –

the buildings, the

people, the

roads:

still amongst the

weekend traffic,

breakfast

sounds from the other

room:

frying, cutting,

tinkling,

splashing –

footsteps plod toward:

they slow as they reach me

and with your eyes,

glancing over an

already tried and

familiar

view,

mine –

fervent, young

join years,

and we walk together,

sun over everything –

the cups, the plates, the

cutlery,

as we smile,

and

eat.

IV - плажа

Blaring from the

studded sea:

yachts aflame with

spinning bodies,

booming pop;

it is a scene from

Michael’s Marble Shop gone

wrong: rejects

happly tanning in the

breeze

photo-strown,

his perfect specimen

lies before

me

he smiles,

not of joy, not of

mirth –

of self-

satisfaction

seagulls squawk the

brazen azure

canopy,

the fizzing beer

laughs below;

photos kiss my

dewy skin –

magnetized:

I cannot

look away

from –

you are opening your

perfect, perfect

mouth –

a word

forms – !

V - Зелен

My mind in

yours:

Hand,

smooth as marble and

warm as the

hearth;

black prickles kiss my

tender

skin –

in the darkness,

the dull

thudding of the

green-and-white

rustles through the

night

we aren’t alone,

but very well as may be:

our muted whispers

dissolve into contented silence, listening

to our few neighbours,

their

moonlit chatter

evaporating

in favour of our

bliss in shared tenderness,

two hands

in harmony, in

unison.

I lean towards you:

I am loved,

safe.

VI - сив

Air thick with

pungent, stifling

gas;

pigeons lick

splattered oil spots

on splotchy asphalt

sometimes sun

glistens on the

buildings

nearby

sometimes we are

grateful the rain exists

outside the

terminal

boundary;

so many hours of

lungs

filling with

cubes of noxious

fumes; time spent so

mundane, so

ornery –

in a time before

and

after, it’s

strange to

be here

alone –

yet the air is

still thick

and the

pigeons lick

splattered

oil

spots;

and time treads

on, lungs

fill and

empty;

buses fill and

fill.

VII - терминал

You are

thirty million feet

away:

I try not

to touch

you

cold, calm,

and unchanged,

oxygen and

napkins lie

between us,

only –

May-time

light between is now an

autumnal grey:

and windows

eavesdrop

with corporate

glints in

tinted

eyes

When we are here again,

I turn without a

word.

I am so angry, so

proud.

I see you

saunter away through the dashboard

as usual,

lonesome and

unafraid -

it is the Last Time

we will huddle in the

fumes of the

terminal.

I yearn for

the sun-scented

oxygen of

our

shared summer,

and the quiet of your

hand in mine

in the

gentle darkness:

It has been long

since my eyes smiled

into yours so

tenderly;

these are now eyes

which know

these gold-gilt dreams

spin further backward, backward,

as I spin forward,

remembering,

in spite of

me.

175. Cash or Debit

Time is a shameless
measure:
no returns and
no
exchanges:
final
sale.

Like a
holiday tape wrapping
gift
by
gift,
the holly pattern
always

Sitting on a shelf,
observing
the darkness
of
neglect

A fate
to
pity, of
senseless
indifference

or perhaps to
covet,
eternal and
proudly
beyond,
spinning mutely

We cannot see its
end,
only –
think we
do:

cut short,
it
proceeds –
old gifts and
memories
remain;
undying,
unreturned,
dust-collecting and
sitting unblinking,
unremembering

174. A Shared Mile

The hills describe in pink,
of yawning suns descending:
it is an ode to love:
it is their adoration.

Our hands are interlaced;
our hearts are wrapped in silence;
it is the twilit dusk,
it is her mauve entreaty.

Paired in sylvan joy,
road the winding way
smiling to infinity
past the rose-gilt, silent trees;

My bliss swelled past our smiles
beyond the gold-drunk forests:
a love, that shared with them,
now separate, still remembers.

173. Beacon

blares gently in
the black

quiet, night revolves,
mute in the hour;

a flash
a flash

ignites the
drop-sown dashboard

and closer
and closer

draw

the
humming spheres,

buzzing halogen
deafening
when not heard

colour, blurred

impression:
signal

meaning
yet none;

supreme in the
last visitation

as the final
tires
turn
left

169. The Sidewalk Restaurant

Mapo Tofu (麻婆豆腐)

Image Source:
http://www.dianshu119.com/index.php?doc-view-881.html

Cheery chatter,
Mandarin,
surrounds like fumes;
we are
no longer
alone

cigarette smoke
deafens

the air conditioner
whirs,
green Tsingtao
bottles
glimmer,
translucent and
half-drunk

The noisy little
toddler
reaches for his
distracted 爸爸’s
tempting beer, reaches
to his lips

caught
(nearly too late), he is
smartly
rebuked

watching, I smile a
little

the 麻婆豆腐
is excellent

168. Cattle through the Peepholes

circles:
blinking eyes
beyond,
eyelashes long and
golden, dusty;
flies
interspersed

still yet
moving,
inches become
miles,
through alchemy
to kilo-
metres

skin beneath
metal,
air beneath
exhaust fumes:
and in the driver’s seat
the unthinking
be-jeaned,
be-plaid-shirted
blue collar
robot

driving,
surviving,

one eye:

glassy,
still, and
searching

167. 天雅古玩城

Tianya Antiques City, Beijing, China

Image source: Sina

A strangest thing indeed:
round dishes on the roof;
the visitors, like ants,
all enter/leave the feast…

Escalators deceptively slow,
quicken
pace
excitedly as the shop-front
store owners
come to life as
visitors step upon their
domain

Smoke

fills the halls;
NO SMOKING sings
not to be seen
here

Teenagers,
arrogant old
women, and
what appear to be
street urchins also
man these
gates;
well-dressed,
well-versed
suited middle-aged
men and women, and the
exotic, distrustful
eyes of the
Uyghur:

Children eat rice
at the lacquer tables
as their parents
haggle
or discover yet another
childhood
acquaintance –

Some halls are filled
with more
idle
smoke
than others…

At the busiest:
count the tiny
diamonds
lining the precious
green jade
leaflets, glistening in
the
caged
light;
semiprecious stones
set in
much-handled
wedding bands –

How can we know
each
detail?
Each fold of
each leaf?

The grandiose:
purple cut agate a
basketball-player
tall;
jade and marble
slates,
cute in with
intricate tree-leaves,
lined with detailed lines and
anatomically impossible
people larger than the
pagodas on the
shining, speckled,
lithe green
mountains

Tea sets of
smooth
clay of
subtly different shades
of roam chocolate
and caramel feel
sandy to the
touch;
gold Bodhisattvas and
Buddhas line
shelves;
antique, or
not

Fragrant medicinal
wood,
cut
into
small
squares,
promise remedies:
Impossibly smoothed wood
create chairs
exquisitely painful
to sit
upon
(no wonder the
Emperors had
such bad
headaches)

People-sized plates
still sprinkle the
building top like
ribbons, red and
gleaming like a
kindergartner’s
First Day present;
gilt, the buttons
noon read, sprinkled
on the silver
elevators…

165. Smokey Beijing

grey in the morning
smog,
streets awaking
bicycles;
cars thread through:
awake,
smoky Beijing!

misty in the veils of
time,
museums stand,
tall and Junoesque;
antiques are real when
awoken,
smokey Beijing;

earthy, cigarettes mutely
fume,
lazy streams glistening ‘twixt
Mandarin;
words entwining,
awakening,
smoky Beijing:

humming, miles away the
tourists,
globe’s collection in bright sun
visors,
parasols out and wide
awake,
smokey Beijing –

from the stolen sands of
time,
progress lays its youthful
tracks,
resting lay the timeless Dragon,
in depths and
at the core,
smokey Beijing.

161. 6 Cubicles

I.
Dark amber:
disfigured, wilted
chrysanthemums drift
swirling, smiling,
half drunk
in the
half-drunk tea.
(lips still
stain the
porcelain rim
with DNA)

Deep green:
drops rest,
suspended; silent;
strown across
paths to
a docile
pouring spoon:
[BENZODIAZEPINE HYDROCHLORIDE
the dark
words read
upon the
clear white
label canvas;
plastic bottle
mutely glistening

Cheap silver:
chocolate toonies
dollar store
trinkets and
Monopoly
                 pieces

Red & Blazing:
computer logos
company slogans
chant like
mantras on
the forlorn
desktop,
haunting the
lack of
space, the
unoccupied, empty
ergonomic
                chair –

2.

Photos:
Mommy & Me
stuck
all over on
mottled
construction
paper,
grainy
If you pay attention you can
see the pulpy
wood fibres

There is a Mother’s
Day poem pasted on a
pink teapot,
carefully cut by eager fingers of
a five-and-three-quarters-year-old,
pencil markings denoting where
the stencil once
lay -
still intact:

Mom’s hair is
angry purple,
she’s much too
young, she should still
by sipping margaritas
sleepless Friday nights at
the nightclub,
fratboys still buying her
Tequila,
flattered:
I’m 30 ;)

III.
A Family of Five:
Three Noses similar,
distributed as such;
Eyes squinting at the sun
as Florida divides:

The pack of smiling Mice:
The Mom & Son are not;
Oh, 20 hours long
does not bode well for kids –
The Preteen Hormone Price.

Three graduations framed:
One Kindergarten grad,
One junior high, one High;
the Eldest in “That Phase”:
Much Angst, as God Ordained.

IV.

Polish greets:
ł, sz, ć –

Pierogi, Kielbasa,
soups, Zrazy,
cabbage rolls;
recipes in
jargon,
we trust makes
feast
depicted each
month.

reminders of old
country,
Happier
, less? –

5

CATHY
on a brazen blue
background
didn’t have her
sexy Latin
name
I guess

faux license plate
letters raised and white
cacti mixed with
pink desert
flower

sheets and
trinkets: souvenirs
to make a magpie
jealous,
totally

Coconut Palm
Cashmere Sheen,
mmm…
“for silky smooth skin”
glitter shimmers in the
frosty lilac-
musky – dusky –
mauve-ish –
bouteilles

Pictures from the wedding:
Frog Eyes Husband

slightly chunky for the
white wedding
dress,
green grass,
black tux:
everything was just
SOOO perfect,
OMG
espesh
our
Carib
honeymoon
                  getaway

Ooh
Caribou calendar:
fun facts sprinkle
the months like little
taunts

Did you know?
      Did you know?
            Did you know?

Nature,
science,
seasides, and
Canada

Shut up.

VI.

half-abandoned
plant
experiments
yearn toward the
asphalt:

Burrito Nacho Man
with a grayish
Sombrero, action
figures betraying
bad humour and
bad taste

half-eaten
chip bag
partly stale

Mm, sour cream and
onion
flavor

funny
how the mind turns
criminal
in such
stillness

half-
experiments
yearn
towards: - ?

160. X-Ray Machines

Indonesian visitors view escalators

HK Sai Ying Pun Third Street, near Centre Street (April 2013)

Image Source: Remyumksoa

Sea:
pink, identical –
What is this?
eyes
question

some
bespectacled,
others
bejeweled

All
imperfect from the
fuschia
crop

Crisps,
adverts,
nonchalant
passersby
regard
impassively:

one sees
more
than
the other!

Amazed by this
strange new
world,
difference
divides

and reveals: