TASTE
The taste buds
of the young we are told
are more sensitive
than those of the old
While there is still pleasure
in a snowflake on the tongue
it is more difficult to tell of late
if they have six feet or eight
Category: Nostalgia
RED RANCH BARN
RED RANCH BARN
Look how swallows thread the sky
B.J. Buckley
Watching them swoop and loop
from the window of the loft again
would mend some tears in the years
MODERN TIMES
MODERN TIMES
Between the horse and the tractor
falls the shadow of too much light
Molecules molested day and night
and the milky way has turned
from whole to skim to gone
A FUNNY STORY
A FUNNY STORY
In the dream I say to brother Wally
you’re going to have to tell the story
or the milk I drank way back then
is going to come out my nose again
HOLDING UP THE LINE
HOLDING UP THE LINE
Barista, barista, if only you knew
what I’d like to order from you
Barista, barista
please, if you please
cold coffee in a Mason jar
like Momma sent to the fields
at harvest and at haying time
That much sugar
and that much cream
and no one wiped the lip
when they passed it round
Barista, barista
there’s nothing I see
on that long fancy menu for me
I guess
I just came in to smell the coffee
ONE ROOM SCHOOLHOUSE BLUES
ONE ROOM SCHOOLHOUSE BLUES
(a novel in nine lines)
I started school in grade four
Neither I, nor my teacher
showed up for the first three
Bullies, gophers and garter snakes
were there from day one
There was a teeter-totter too
where, on the high end at recess
you could catch a window glimpse
of my hand out, leather strap descending
THE LONGNECK LOB
THINGS I DID, BUT DON’T RECOMMEND
#233 – THE LONGNECK LOB
In Saskatchewan
there aren’t many games
you can play outdoors all year
A favorite of our prairie youth
was tossing bottles at roadside signs
It’s not as simple as it sounds
there’s height and speed and distance
added degree of difficulty for the driver
left handed over roof one eye on the road
All in the wrist at 60 miles per hour
Let it fly forty feet before the sign
with just enough oomph and arc
to float to shattering conclusion
and cheers and beers all round
There is still some question
as to whether aim improved
as time and beer went by
TECHNOLOGY
TECHNOLOGY
The day breathed in
and the day breathed out
After lunch my father took a nap
– the horses had to rest
By supper time they were fed
fed and brushed and thanked
And then the tractors came
– and tractors do not nap
Not content with that small theft
they soon grew lights and stole the dark
He fed them gas, they pulled the plow
But not once, one to the other
did they ever speak of love
MATH
MATH
If a train leaves Moose Jaw
heading west at the speed of first memory
Engine, cars, and caboose
zebraing by behind a snowfence
smoke billowing back over its shoulder
And another leaves, traveling east
from my writing of it now
When will they meet
at the small town of Courval
and your reading of this page
THE SILENCE OF SLEIGHS
THE SILENCE OF SLEIGHS
My earliest memories do not have a sound track
The steppes of Canada are the steppes of Russia
Zhivago watching Lara leave . . . without her song
The horse’s hooves
compressing snow to greater silence
the runners sinking softly into silence
skimming surface of silence
stretching out the notes of silence
The bells on the horse . . . . . . . . . were there bells?