For Luke Wilson
Your freedom of the Odometer covers a lot of ground.
To see the world in a grain of sand.
For what it really is. Outpacing yourself in that
tumbleweed camper. Fading into another sunset.
Tracking the distances in your brain.
Living Outside.
Your second skin. The weathers.
Reading the weathers. Nuance. Nuage. New Age.
How it drenches a landscape. Renewal.
The sun makes another snowman drunk.
Throws an insect into your words.
Like a dog barking into evening
car chasing spectral shadows.
The ills. What ails you, bends you.
It all becomes willow in the weathers.
When the comfort of your heart-shaped
furniture breaks down and
emotions go thread bare
You seek the weathers.
Make a hop pillow for your head.
Lay down in the cocoon arms of Your Master
Smoothing out the rituals there.
Remembering angles of light
the quality of a waterfall.
How everything goes suddenly gray.
And you still perpetually wrapped, trapped
in a west coast shroud rain
and looking for the illusive shining tree
where it’s all written down. The weathers.
Denis Robillard, Canada
2 comments:
Denis R. Robillard was born in Northern Ontario in 1966 and currently lives in Windsor, Ontario, CANADA with his wife and four children. Robillard was first published in 1986. Literary publications since 2003 have been in the dozens with Algoma Ink, Rampike, Rattle, and Prairie Journal among others. Robillard’s work has been reviewed in the small presses in Florida and England. On-line credits include: DUFUS Magazine (#6) Regina Weese, Raven Poetry On Line, Word Riot, Words On Paper , (now defunct) Change Magazine (2006), Beauty and Truth Magazine, Alba, The CLIFFS: Soundings, Sidereality and Dogzplot magazine. He is also an amateur photographer and teacher.
Wow! I just basked in this! The words, the phrasing, the pictures it evoked in my mind.
A drunken snowman will forever be summoned in a meltdown.
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