Category Archives: Vancouver Grey

freeverse about, and/or inspired by Vancouver and local environs

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.

 

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 

handy for crabbing

The dock extends further

to make the crabs easier 

to capture

Waiting at Jericho

Green hulled sleeper

lulls along the darters

and sunnyday foghorn

Sailors waiting

papers aren’t order

sandwiches and waiting

waiting, watching

for the crackled word

we’re moving out

Waiting Only Twice a Day

Trying to say
kind words,
“surely room for all”
waiting on the 15 Cambie
amidst dig and cover
moving one truck
at a time
one sinkhole

the battle-ax reserves judgment
“she jumped the line”
and continues,
“and people may be left behind!”
in fresh tarred reflected heat

Wonder and gaze to avoid the disagreement
She chortles,
“You must never wait here –
before now”

noting the stop moves most days
edging around impending tunnels
i aim to say,
“i’ve stood at each stop twice –
each day” recalling drizzle, sun and hail
but missed the chance
when we all fit aboard

standing up already

standing up already
prepared for something
classified as an unlikely event

“in the unlikley event” suggesting a guffaw
in less official communication …

an owl might
watch even if
nothing to see but
ripples, clouds
& forgotten identity

in love with the girl at the deli

in love with the girl at the deli

buying 100 grams at a time
to peek under
her cap

pigtails poking
as running the slicer
ordered it shaved
to take more time

hiding to shyaway her eyes
so i can’t read her mind

change my route to think about the neighbourhoods

Note: Hear “change my route to think about the neighbourhoods” as a spoken song

##

i change my route
from time to time
to think about
the neighbourhoods

switched Cambie 15
for Main Number 3
or Fraser if i don’t mind
cutting across Kingsway

skirted schoolgirls Xavier-bound
headphones sweater
in rows

downtown exchanges
spake in broken halts
sometime gleaming
often rain
occasionally sleet, hail or ice