JOYFUL THING

Joyful Thing

This morning

in place of the newsfeed’s

gleeful retelling of yesterday’s terror-song

and predictions for the coming days’

apocalypse inevitable

I flipped open the forest and clicked

on a path thru the Tamaracks

down to the creek — where I sat,

listening

to all that is well with the world

the gladness of moss

the slow kiss of summer

and the quiet conversation

of those two old lovers — water and rock,

and when I returned

I was not who I had been,

and that, I confess

was a joyful thing.

Covid: Day 12

Lungs

sacks of wet

straining to

what once was

without effort or thought

thoughts that danced & kicked

now sit

motionless

dead birds

dull knives

wads of twice chewed

gum

each mundane

demanding payment I can’t

now, all I do well

is sleep

so sleep I do

well

until

awaken I will

someday

myself

The Circle

We have three, maybe four good

days, before the air begins to boil

and war erupts

the fighting is intense

close quartered, cruel, calculated

no weakness unaddressed

followed — in the “it’s never, ever, really over”

aftermath — by a grievous, predatory silence

centuries pass

eventually

a truce is brokered

an armistice of sorts

and suddenly

we are civil, polite

almost kind

knowing

we have three, maybe four good

days, before the air begins to boil

IF’s poetry is a shout-out to the sacredness of our days, a three-chord party jam, and a tribute to the triumph of love over fear. A prolific writer of page poetry, IF is also a two-time Canadian National Slam Poetry Champion, winner of the Buffalo International Slam, and subject of the full-length CBC documentary, If The Poet. He and his partner divide their time between Montreal and a cabin in the woods of North Ontario.