Thick pineapple rain whipping
winds twisting leaves
and homeless blankets
wet while walking past
yellow in fleeting glances
holding breath for quarantine
peeking though humid windows
dec 2006
freeverse about, and/or inspired by Vancouver and local environs
Like the first morning of
the first day of school
the bus driver doesn’t even
acknowledge my absence
i cough good morning anyhow
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 …)
I see! 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
Now, blackberries grow where Frederick 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
that 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
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.
##
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.
Sailboats carving patterns
darters into waves which
seem unimpressed
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
The dock extends further
to make the crabs easier
to capture
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
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
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