High density…
I am not a beggar Sir,
I am a performer…
And what has happened to your audience tonight???
The archer’s gloved hand cuts through the darkness that is all around them,
save for the glow of his lantern…
They have gone home…
And you should have as well…
Very resourceful for a country man to have remained in the city all this time…
The poor man is ordered to stand up…
He can no longer hide the little girl…
She squirms out of his coat…
Noticing the child,
the archer dismounts…
— in Bride of New France by Suzanne Desrochers
I don’t know,
how many times,
I’ve heard people say,
I wish I had,
your memory…
As always,
it is an important reminder,
in most cases,
to be careful,
what you wish for…
No different,
than words,
a memory like mine,
holds both,
the locks,
and the keys,
of a re-member-ing,
that is a choice,
with which,
to work,
and like the road,
to the NHL,
and a Stanley Cup,
it isn’t meant,
to be easy,
even if,
I so wish,
it were…
Yesterday,
I had the privilege,
of planning for,
and supervising,
a play date,
between two young thoroughbreds…
I’d learned a few things,
from the experience,
with them,
the time before,
that made this meeting,
so much better,
for everyone,
as the charge,
of collective anxiety,
grounded itself,
into the mud,
outside the arena…
I led,
the dark bay gelding,
out first,
giving him a chance,
to buck,
and roll around,
with his blanket off…
Then I tethered him,
while I brought out,
the younger chestnut mare,
and worked through,
the tension,
in her neck,
and jaw…
The thing,
I’m learning,
about a herd,
of horses is,
if and when,
you facilitate,
the release,
of a holding pattern,
in one body,
there is the potential,
to affect release,
in all the other bodies,
of the constellation…
And when all your eyes,
are open,
you can see it,
and feel it,
in the horse,
that is your teacher…
As I stood,
with my hand wrapped,
around the lower gums,
of one horse,
stretching,
and rolling,
her tongue around,
the other one,
stood licking,
and chewing,
with his head dropped,
thirty feet away…
And when I unclipped,
their leads,
to let them,
both go,
they walked off,
side by side,
as individuals,
brought together,
to have a field day,
of frolic…
On my way home,
heading west on Highway #1,
I heard Alain Vigneault,
once again,
being criticized…
This time,
for referring,
to media scrum,
as You people,
and how he ought to,
eliminate such expression,
from his vocabulary,
immediately,
as it is experienced as,
being equally pejorative,
to slurs,
which racially,
divide,
and conquer…
In my mind,
You people,
is a lot more polite,
and appropriate,
than what AV,
could,
and probably wants,
to be saying,
to a bunch of boneheaded,
ass wipes,
who make,
the professionalism,
of the Canucks’ antechamber ,
look like a rat-infested,
hole,
of misfits,
crowding,
and grabbing,
for scraps,
at the feed trough…
There,
that feels better now…
To their credit,
B-Mac and Taylor,
of the Team,
elevated themselves,
by facilitating,
a fantastic dialogue,
on the use of spiritual references,
by players and Wally Buono,
in the N and CFL,
which blew any,
doctoral level seminar conversation,
I’ve ever been witness to,
right out,
of the water…
And for that,
and other things,
I was beside,
myself…
This weekend,
I saw a smile,
on my daughter’s face,
that told a story,
of all that is dear,
which she holds,
inside…
And in the car,
all the way along,
the inlet,
I drove,
well below,
the speed limit,
on purpose…
I asked Little Gem,
if she could describe,
her feeling,
and at nine years old,
she said,
The stomachache I had,
is almost gone…
I’ve been waiting,
to meet someone,
for almost,
my whole life,
and today,
I almost,
can’t believe,
it finally happened…
And for that,
my friend,
I will keep on,
walking,
as transparent,
as I can,
manage,
to be,
in my memory boots…
You were Romeo and you were throwing pebbles... (photo: Starshine)
Glass tiger…
At home I made my ambitions known by parading around with a cardboard tube held to my eye,
shouting, “Land ho!!!”
and “Prepare a landing party!!!” until my parents shooed me outside…
I think they worried that my grandfather would infect me,
with some incurable dreaminess,
from which,
I would never recover—
these fantasies were somehow inoculating me against more practical ambitions—
so one day my mother sat me down,
and explained that I couldn’t become an explorer because everything in the world,
had already been,
discovered…
— in Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs
When a woman like me,
gets to this ripe age,
she starts looking,
to assemble,
her hunting buddies…
Yesterday morning,
I woke up,
brushed my teeth,
with vanilla Crest,
and asked Great Spirit,
to place someone,
on my path,
to help me,
work,
with my gun dog…
And less than four hours later,
I was thank full,
to have met,
a potential applicant,
on the Varley Trail…
Now if you’re intending,
to put yourself,
out there,
in the bush,
you have to be,
extremely discerning,
about whom,
you put yourself,
out there with,
because things,
as we know,
can go sideways,
in a second,
if the rules,
and regs,
aren’t established,
and followed,
right from,
the get go…
Most recently,
I was playing fetch,
in my neighbourhood park,
under the newly constructed,
eagles’ nest,
built together,
by the pair,
when a man approached me,
with his two flat-coated retrievers,
and filled me in,
on the purpose,
of exciting,
a Pointer’s tail,
in the field…
He spoke,
of a recent trip,
to Douglas Lake,
for pheasant,
and told me,
where to go,
to find out more,
about what’s,
currently,
holding,
my attention…
A lot of people,
are horrified,
when I talk about,
my intentions,
to put meat,
on the table,
with my own two hands…
But then they haven’t seen,
the look,
of pride,
in my dog’s eyes,
when she brings me,
a gift,
from a shopping bag,
with a soft mouth,
and says,
Look, what I got for you!!!
They also haven’t watched her,
sit like a statue,
through a civic,
fireworks display,
and look into,
the darkness,
at the end of it all,
wondering,
Now can I go find those birds,
I’m supposed to bring back,
for my lady???
When those same people,
suggest tracking,
and agility games,
instead of,
the real thing,
because they themselves,
just can’t stomach,
the thought,
I ask how porn,
and other,
simulated,
activity,
works for them,
and that pretty much,
puts an end,
to the conversation…
Apparently,
if you spend,
any time listening,
to some,
of the major irritants,
who call themselves,
sports broadcasters,
there’s a goalie controversy,
brewing,
in our fine city…
As per the usual,
I beg to differ…
What’s going on right now,
in-between,
Schneids,
and Bobby Lu,
is likely,
nothing more,
than a few days,
in a row,
of yo bro’,
no mo’???,
and a friendly game,
of keep em’ guessing,
in the dressing room…
The man they call AV,
must be supremely commended,
for his keen ability,
to spoon bend,
in front of,
the microphones,
over here,
while he’s directing traffic,
in his ninja suit,
over there…
Put a little gravel in my travel... (photo: Starshine)
Lead change…
In the sea,
where they’re happiest,
and most comfortable,
selkies take the form of seal cows and live among those marine animals…
But their dual nature compels them to leave the water occasionally…
Stripping off and hiding her magic sealskin,
a selkie takes the form of a lovely young woman,
to bask in the sun and salt spray,
brush her long hair and enjoy her human voice while singing sweetly to herself…
This is the time when she is most vulnerable…
Any man finding her cached sealskin literally holds her life in his hands—
without it,
she cannot transform;
if it’s destroyed,
she dies…
In this way,
the wild and beautiful selkie is extorted into a landlocked marriage…
— in Field Guide to Monsters by Darren Zenko
One of the things,
my children,
take umbrage with,
is when I can,
no longer,
contain myself,
and say,
things like,
Scott Oake,
is SUCH,
a gonad…
They have,
no tolerance,
for certain,
expletives,
and immediately,
call me out,
on my immaturity…
Last night was,
no exception,
as I drank,
my one bottle,
of apricot wheat ale,
and cheered on,
the chuckwagon,
at the United Center,
like a rodeo,
trick rider…
Starshine called me,
Friday night,
and the first thing,
she asked me,
was if,
I’d seen,
the games,
of St. Paul,
and St. Louis…
I had to say,
that I hadn’t,
seeing as,
my cable,
to the sports network,
is working on,
completely,
And the second thing,
she said,
is I’m starting to think,
that you’re right…
I wondered,
about what???
She said,
About that something,
that’s missing,
with the Canucks,
BEING Raffi Torres…
Before I flex,
muscle,
and text message,
Mike Gillis,
to hear,
what’s it gonna take,
to BRING RAFFI BACK,
I need a sure sign,
that Raffi really wants,
TO BE here,
as trailering,
a horse,
to where he doesn’t want,
to go,
is counter-productive,
in the long run…
Since training camp,
I’ve had a duet,
of dreams,
in which,
Jannik Hansen,
and I,
are saying,
GRACE…
And the night before,
the win,
against Washington,
I had a dream,
where,
I was driving,
up high way #1,
and when I looked,
in the rear view,
Alain Vigneault was relaxed,
and having a picnic,
in the back seat,
of my station wagon,
with a boyish grin,
on his face…
As usual,
I have no idea,
what any of this means,
except for,
when I woke up,
everything,
FELT,
Little Gem has drawn up,
her very own,
Canucks calendar,
for the month,
of Mo’vember,
and she takes,
the time,
she needs,
to record,
each score,
after she’s finished,
her HOME WORK…
On Sunday morning,
I was an hour early,
for my shift,
in Abbotsford,
due to the fact,
I’d forgotten,
about the end,
of Daylight Savings,
and setting,
the clocks back,
the night before…
The thin sheet,
of broken ice,
floating,
in the rain barrels,
that morning,
signaled,
the start,
of a new cycle,
and the herd,
of horses,
stood,
licking,
and chewing,
inside their manger,
with a soft-eye,
on that fire,
stoking inside,
In the maze of her imagination...
Canuck'd 