earth that is me breathes every moon
indentured swelling fading flooding
canalled and diked terra firma I
adrift unremitting awash washed
within without and yet withal sea
rising falling moon bound of for by
earth that is me breathes every moon
mourning dove
in mourning there is a mellow light
grief cannot darken nor dark remove
day's glow arising beyond the dark
night only a flicker between scenes
calm heart set like a dove on a limb
life sitting still between dusk and dawn
sun rise as a dove waits in morning
shadows softening in warming light
heart mourning past time shudders gentle
prism of tears letting in the new dawn
warm heart waiting for this too to pass
limb-set a dove waiting to take flight
the thoughts
unspoken
the lady aged
the mouth the same
and the eyes
she sat
across from me
watching
the years
two no
longer
you who
following me
following from
sanctity
paused
picked up
fifty or
so to add
to your
twenty three
years
whitened
bones brittle
hair dry
skin the
mouth the same
eyes watching
me watching
her eyes on
me
lost
in thought
the eyes
the same
tears welling
her stop
near me
wishing
to speak
and you
her gone
tolerance
the man sets his glass down
you mind he asks then sits
easy like he belongs there
tanned and old at maybe forty
cigarette hung off his lip
like some wild west cowboy
his eye constant as he sits
watching me and the room
wary as some old barn cat
I finish my beer quickly
give the waitress a nod
ready for another draft
you got to space them out
he says leaning toward me
across the barroom table
here we go again I think
close my eyes for a second
the old man just smiles
fades away with the room
the waitress and the table
fades like an old sad song
sunrise through a bottomless mug
convex against concave walls of glass
skew and reshape this world without end
clarity of daylight shining through
from below dark flows into the light
the void restored in black perfection
becomes death the destroyer of worlds
a boy observes his bottomless mug
restored by the waitress once again
night rising as worlds die in the dark
god of small worlds the boy reaches out
drops frozen light deep to the bottom
edge of dawn on the horizon spreads
morning light rising softens the dark
dawn flows black to deep brown to warm taupe
between walls of glass while new worlds wait
a boy raises his bottomless mug
swallows up the dark and light alike
calmly creates new worlds without end
Bob
MacKenzie grew up in a photo studio in mid-century rural Alberta with artist
parents. His father was a professional photographer and musician and his
mother a photo technician, colourist, and painter. By the age of five, he
had his own camera and ever since has been shooting photographs and writing
poems and stories. Raised in this environment, young Bobby developed a
natural affinity for photography and for the intricacies of language.
Bob’s poetry has appeared in more than 400 journals across North America and as
far away as Australia, Greece, India, and Italy. Bob has published
nineteen volumes of poetry and prose-fiction and his work's appeared in
numerous anthologies. He's received numerous local and international
awards for his writing as well as an Ontario Arts Council grant for literature,
a Canada Council Grant for performance, and a Fellowship to attend the Summer
Literary Seminars in Tbilisi, Georgia.
With the ensemble Poem de Terre, for eighteen years Bob's poetry has been
spoken and sung live with original music and the group has released six albums.
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