Category Archives: Poetry and Prose

expressionist freeverse, punk rock lyrics, occasional ode to love, digression into nonsense, or possibly vaguely lyrical or rhyming, but not likely – maybe in cycles

Alchemists Confer with Hypnotists

Varying days
of bliss and malaise
I’m busy these days
chasing dubbies away

When the ache nears
the break and
light becomes a haze
your soul is so faded,
no hiding, so worn

The alchemists confer
and deny the hypnotists’
clinical opinions.
Retorting, “He simply needs
more magnesium
injected into his bones”

The past life regressions
of painters, loafers and pirates
offer no evidence –
only barroom stories
when envisioning a distant yourself

Consider generating kinetic watts
from my broken soul,
frantic heart and coiled brain.
Anxiety — i’ve plenty to power
all of Iowa — roller rinks and all.

Parallel Parked in an Alternate Universe

Double parked

on a parallel highway

Broke down and hazy

on an alternate byway

 

I called out God,

Odin and Buddha

All i learn’d is

they all are much taller

 

Parallel parked on an

galactic spacepod

Where mustangs roam freely

if you promise to return

 

Floating far above any water

drinking only mud and mire

Chasing fireflies in ditches

tangled cactus and barbwire

 

I’ll build up on a lost slab

a hut of cow dung and roadkill

I’ll meditate on the lizards

and wait for the signal

 

Magnollas and hibiscus

it’s was sure nice to meet us

i’ll send live oak telegrams

with greetings from the forge.

en route to the Matsuri

En route to the matsuri in Japantown
the Asahis are playing and
they’re carrying that golden shrine around

to the bus driver he pesters – well actually, was a trolley
“trouble on fraser st on the powell line”
today?

“well with the in-site riot and a festival ahead

(tbc …)

Varley at Jericho

the two swimmers, heads bobbing way out there beyond the buoys

Varley solid after a bottle of red

with gaggle of glowing students

striving for direction and inspiration about how to go beyond

~ what is the level above?

when human and nature,

face and landscape  portrait

and treatment are lost ~

all forgotten in the sublime asymmetry

 

Vanderpant and his photos showing more than

just the realness – tell the story beyond the moment –

the river doesn’t stop after the shutter closes

where did the rivers without end begin?

 

Look closely across the inlet

and you can see where to wander to find the first drops of melting cascading over lichen and rock,

filters through alpine moss & gravel into a ravine, the

gullies collect the raw material

to begin the rivers which continue to flow until they find their end

 

Blackberries grow where Varley sat

Jericho now leisure-time activities

weddings for international industrialists

 

sandy for blue- haired lounger – leathery from routine

silhouette of grey and green, cypress to seymour

 

divots for Capilano and Lynn

the horseshoe toes slipping into the sound

the only clears for the sky

 

island and headlands

fjords and freshers

lighthouses & old growth anoint the end of land

give away to the space in between

 

higher now they climb

wooden pioneers drifted into the concrete and glass

cantilevered over cliffs craning

to see whats directly ahead.

 

the veranda hosted parties

fraternized student faculty

late conversations with wine

moving rugged frontier forms and

vocabularies of culture

not contrived, not crafted

but not wrestled,

– coaxed from the confluence of river, sea and land

sit with your tools

where were you when no one was here but beachcombers and

outliers and occasional picnicers

the ferries would carry you from Jericho to Ambleside, forays and for day of weekend holiday respite

how the tree became logs and people grow into the land and emerged after exploration and surrender – well affected

“Bay of Flashing Darters” in bentlily | One poem a day

Dave Thorvald Olson | Samantha’s daily poem | bentlily | One poem a day.

BAY OF FLASHING DARTERS 

Sailboats carving patterns

darters into waves which

don’t seem to mind

Leaning over sideways

to control both power and time

Flocking into clusters

brushing past the buoys

like galaxies swirling

spun by translucent kite-strings

Leaving tracers to catch a gaze

the stone mason

experiment invites

me and strangers to rest awhile

only at lowtide when the waves release

a rusted boxspring fence and

gives way to me, the barnacles

and the bay of flashing darters.

##

OlsonD

DAVE THORVALD OLSON

Dave Thorvald Olson is VP of Community at HootSuite where he crafts programs and initiatives to spark the company’s rapid international growth.

 

Poet, podcaster, public-policy pundit and chronic documentarian from his earliest days, world-rambling Dave has spent his time writing, painting and listening to old vinyl albums on the back porch. Published in magazines and journals, he is most proud of his handmade literary chapbooks, static montage art, and audio hi-jinks.

 

Spieling at a Wedding ~ Artifacts from Sheila/Kemp’s Nuptials

Kemp Edmonds convinced his fiance Sheila that i’d be a fine candidate to quasi-officiate their wedding. I was promised beer and they provided a wee bit of guidance as to fave themes, songs, writers.

I combined their thoughts with my style and go-to authours and penned some musings which sandwiched the nice magistrate lady Barb doing the secular ritual required by written law.

My wife was kind enough to get my pin-striped, thrift-store suit dry-cleaned and i wore my Florsheim wing-tips i scored in exchange for some impromptu consulting at a ec-comm conference – these shoes are so fancy, they are stored in cloth bags.

Here is a photo by Lyndsay London for the record and a pretty close transcription of my spiel:

Dearest assembled,

Together, tonight, we add to the heritage of this hall – we bask in the memories of those who celebrated here before – and briefly consider the years to come – while we gather to celebrate these two lovely friends – raise our voice in support for the decision they’ve made – and offer our gentle help for their future years.

As for us, we’ll always have tonight to combine us in our affection for this couple – Kemp and Sheila {in case you are at the wrong wedding} Together, we’ll always have their good cheer to bind us. Kemp and Sheila, you are are part of us all now.

To the parents, siblings, aunties, especially the uncles and cousins galore – this is a celebration of your contributions to their lives. Congratulations to you all and though they’ll hardly have a chance to say it amidst the whirlwind, i *suspect* they are most grateful to each of you for coming.

When expressing feelings for dearest soulmate, we humans are prone to metaphor ~ equating the vastness of our love to grains of sand, or the stars deeper deeper still crowding the universe.

Or even the most stoic drifts to comparisons of love to *uniqueness* – evoking images of trembling snow flakes each allegedly unique {note: they aren’t}, or splashy heroic feats like climbing mountains, fording fjords, or having giant structures built as tokens of affection – whether they be Taj Mahals or surrounded by white picket fences.

But I propose that it’s not the quantity that matters – rather love is best gauged by its quality – the degree in which you savour each moment – the long walks in glorious parks, visiting family for sunday suppers, adventures to countries you’ve never considered where you’ll wander late night in twisty cobbled lanes when’re beloved have meandered, scampered and observed for centuries – clutching hands, believing, knowing, trusting that their love was the deepest uniquest, vastest of any love ever.

Representing Lebanon, Gibran lays it down thusly:

Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have, let these be your desires:

to melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night
to know the pain of too much tenderness
to be wounded by your own understanding of love;
and to bleed willingly and joyfully
to wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
to rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
to return hem at eventide with gratitude;
and then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in
your heart and a song of praise upon your lips

Indeed! But your love will show its true quality in the tough times life heaves at us all – from time to time. This pressures can be akin to the earth squeezing hidden pockets of carbon in scattered mountains and trenches so precisely that the create glimmering breadcrumbs beneath the surface – aching to reveal themselves to sun and eye to reach full their potential.

Sometimes the years we wish to hurry by are the ones that look back upon so fondly – aged with the wisdom and fortitude gained when all looked so rough.

Meanwhile in Paris in the 1700s Jean Jacques Rousseau was thinking the *same thing* – about and loving when the living ain’t easy:

“If our pleasures could be described, there simplicity would appear ridiculous; our walks, tete a tete outside the city

where i spent my last 8 or 10 sous on little suppers at the open window at which we say opposite watch other on two low chairs pace upon a trunk which filled up the breadth of the window niche.

Who could describe the charms of these meals at which the dishes consisted of nothing more than a quatern loaf of bread, a few cherries a morsel of chess and half a pint of wine which we shared between us – Friendship, confidence, intimacy, tranquility of mind, how delicious are your seasonings!”

Certainly, your life with be laden with splendid times and the deepness of your love and patience will only be key when he spends 4x as much as you on a haircut – just know that he did it to look good for you. Or she comes home late saying she was listening to a friend’s problems when you know she just wanted to catch overtime.

However wee, every day and every action adds to the quality of love – and polished with skill – the results are the head-spinning rewards of contented smiles and splendid leisure – so are you ready?

because the Red Hot Chili Peppers suggest:

the one to treasure the rest of your days is here
you’ve each finally found something perfect

so are you ready to show up for duty
serve this woman and honour her beauty?

will you agree to take this man into your world
and be as one?

don’t answer me … While i represent the voice of the people, i don’t represent the law, as such, i’ll defer to my magisterial counterpart to tend to these particulars:

##

Kemp and Sheila, before we segue into a night of celebrations and feasting and who knows what else, i’ll share the thoughts of wandering – in American in the 1800’s – Walt WhitmanL

I have perceived that to be with those i like is enough,
to stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,
to be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh
is enough

to pass among them or touch any one or rest my arm ever so lightly around neck for a moment
what is this then?
i do not ask any more delight, i swim in it as in a sea!

and i’ll continue for him with my dedication to you two:

another Jericho beach sunset stroll after bread, cheese and wine picnic on a Indonesian sarong bought at a market on a sunny day

another main street quest for a surprise bottle of wine to remember that night on the island when you sat on a boulder not caring about algae and cold and held each other, and gazed and awed and wondered about the possibilities, dreaming of a future growing together

or another snowed in cabin day, fireplace, hot place, and comparing passages and patterns – naps and snacks

another saturday helping friends in need knowing you have more to give another night eager to be home together, the willingness for a late night drive home, the patience when someone hogs the beds

another evening sharing knowledge with vigour and passion to return fulfilled – but ready for a kiss

another bus ride night to gather collaborate grow, challenge, learn, knowing that you’ll never stop progressing

another lifetime of walking hand in hand side by side, not in front of, not behind, trusting, hoping, knowing believing that your love is endless – as you pause to count the stars like so many gems

##

Kemp and Sheila, i humbly invite you to grab hold of one another, gaze into one another’s eyes and Kemp its time to kiss t your (smoking hot) bride!

Now you two beloved turn around and meet your future as i have the pleasure of introducing you to the good people as the married couple, Sheila and Kemp Edmonds. Congratulations!

A Wedding Ceremony for “Shemp”

Dearest assembled,

Together, tonight, we add to the heritage of this hall – we bask in the memories of those who celebrated here before – and briefly consider the years to come – while we gather to celebrate these two lovely friends – raise our voice in support for the decision they’ve made – and offer our gentle help for their future years.

As for us, we’ll always have tonight to combine us in our affection for this couple – Kemp and Sheila {in case you are at the wrong wedding} Together, we’ll always have their good cheer to bind us. Kemp and Sheila, you are are part of us all now.

To the parents, siblings, aunties, especially the uncles and cousins galore – this is a celebration of your contributions to their lives. Congratulations to you all and though they’ll hardly have a chance to say it amidst the whirlwind, i *suspect* they are most grateful to each of you for coming.

When expressing feelings for dearest soulmate, we humans are prone to metaphor ~ equating the vastness of our love to grains of sand, or the stars deeper deeper still crowding the universe.

Or even the most stoic drifts to comparisons of love to *uniqueness* – evoking images of trembling snow flakes each allegedly unique {note: they aren’t}, or splashy heroic feats like climbing mountains, fording fjords, or having giant structures built as tokens of affection – whether they be Taj Mahals or surrounded by white picket fences.

But I propose that it’s not the quantity that matters – rather love is best gauged by its quality – the degree in which you savour each moment – the long walks in glorious parks, visiting family for sunday suppers, adventures to countries you’ve never considered where you’ll wander late night in twisty cobbled lanes when’re beloved have meandered, scampered and observed for centuries – clutching hands, believing, knowing, trusting that their love was the deepest uniquest, vastest of any love ever.

Representing Lebanon, Gibran lays it down thusly:

Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have, let these be your desires:

to melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night
to know the pain of too much tenderness
to be wounded by your own understanding of love;
and to bleed willingly and joyfully
to wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
to rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
to return hem at eventide with gratitude;
and then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in
your heart and a song of praise upon your lips

Indeed! But your love will show its true quality in the tough times life heaves at us all – from time to time. This pressures can be akin to the earth squeezing hidden pockets of carbon in scattered mountains and trenches so precisely that the create glimmering breadcrumbs beneath the surface – aching to reveal themselves to sun and eye to reach full their potential.

Sometimes the years we wish to hurry by are the ones that look back upon so fondly – aged with the wisdom and fortitude gained when all looked so rough.

Meanwhile in Paris in the 1700s Jean Jacques Rousseau was thinking the *same thing* – about and loving when the living ain’t easy:

“If our pleasures could be described, there simplicity would appear ridiculous; our walks, tete a tete outside the city

where i spent my last 8 or 10 sous on little suppers at the open window at which we say opposite watch other on two low chairs pace upon a trunk which filled up the breadth of the window niche.

Who could describe the charms of these meals at which the dishes consisted of nothing more than a quatern loaf of bread, a few cherries a morsel of chess and half a pint of wine which we shared between us – Friendship, confidence, intimacy, tranquility of mind, how delicious are your seasonings!”

Certainly, your life with be laden with splendid times and the deepness of your love and patience will only be key when he spends 4x as much as you on a haircut – just know that he did it to look good for you. Or she comes home late saying she was listening to a friend’s problems when you know she just wanted to catch overtime.

However wee, every day and every action adds to the quality of love – and polished with skill – the results are the head-spinning rewards of contented smiles and splendid leisure – so are you ready?

because the Red Hot Chili Peppers suggest:

the one to treasure the rest of your days is here
you’ve each finally found something perfect

so are you ready to show up for duty
serve this woman and honour her beauty?

will you agree to take this man into your world
and be as one?

don’t answer me … While i represent the voice of the people, i don’t represent the law, as such, i’ll defer to my magisterial counterpart to tend to these particulars:

##

Kemp and Sheila, before we segue into a night of celebrations and feasting and who knows what else, i’ll share the thoughts of wandering – in American in the 1800’s – Walt WhitmanL

I have perceived that to be with those i like is enough,
to stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,
to be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh
is enough

to pass among them or touch any one or rest my arm ever so lightly around neck for a moment
what is this then?
i do not ask any more delight, i swim in it as in a sea!

and i’ll continue for him with my dedication to you two:

another Jericho beach sunset stroll after bread, cheese and wine picnic on a Indonesian sarong bought at a market on a sunny day

another main street quest for a surprise bottle of wine to remember that night on the island when you sat on a boulder not caring about algae and cold and held each other, and gazed and awed and wondered about the possibilities, dreaming of a future growing together

or another snowed in cabin day, fireplace, hot place, and comparing passages and patterns – naps and snacks

another saturday helping friends in need knowing you have more to give another night eager to be home together, the willingness for a late night drive home, the patience when someone hogs the beds

another evening sharing knowledge with vigour and passion to return fulfilled – but ready for a kiss

another bus ride night to gather collaborate grow, challenge, learn, knowing that you’ll never stop progressing

another lifetime of walking hand in hand side by side, not in front of, not behind, trusting, hoping, knowing believing that your love is endless – as you pause to count the stars like so many gems

##

Kemp and Sheila, i humbly invite you to grab hold of one another, gaze into one another’s eyes and Kemp its time to kiss t your (smoking hot) bride!

Now you two beloved turn around and meet your future as i have the pleasure of introducing you to the good people as the married couple, Sheila and Kemp Edmonds. Congratulations!

Earliest Recollections

Lansing Michigan, 1973
eating macaroni & cheese
in a damp basement
while adults whispered
windows shivered
radio crackled
and i wondered why
the tornado was coming
and then my memory began

night lake diving

freshly skinny white

leaping from the storm

the 2AM moonlight

fractures with the impact

the rocks below 

clarified by the 

glacial melt

jagged but deep enough

for divers and explorers

escaping ennui and malaise

 

on the shore bobbing over rocks

shook freed from constraints

the absence reveals

no barriers for the lubricious and clumsy 

emerging from the cold

to stumble on the wretched shore

where bullets won’t start a fire

only tinder and a spark

is all i can stammer

bay of flashing darters

Sailboats carving patterns

darters into waves which 

don’t seem to mind

Leaning over sideways

to control both power and time

 

Flocking into clusters

brushing past the buoys

like galaxies swirling 

spun by translucent kite-strings

Leaving tracers to catch a gaze

 

the stone mason

experiment invites 

me and strangers to rest awhile

only at lowtide when the waves release

a rusted boxspring fence and

gives way to me, the barnacles

and the bay of flashing darters