Every day I saw the old man

but now he is gone.

He had two big plastic sacks full of cans.


He put down one sack and carried the other.

He carried one sack and put down the other.


I wanted to help him with his burden.

I wondered why he did this

and I marvelled at his dance.



Recycle Vancouver


After the dream

The telephone cord came up from deep inside me,

unusual to say the least.  But there it was.

I was sitting at the desk  when it rang

How natural to pick up the phone and


I heard  a screech coming up the cord

the scream hit my ear hard.  like an electric shock.

I spoke in a child’s voice, ‘Mummy, I love you’.

Later a vicious burn appeared on my left cheek.

I had pressed the receiver there in disbelief.




Reading Timaeus

is like having a game of rock, paper, scissors.

Paper, covers rock

scissors cut paper

rock blunts scissors.

I think it’s the polyhedra 30-60-90 and  the 45-45-90 triangles.

The fifth element is how we play with fire.


Image result for timaeus greek polyhedra

Greyed out

Old woman with grey hair, grey eyes and grey clothes,

you showed me your Ipad.

The screen was blank.

Restart the device, get back those

vibrant apps.

Your life has lost color,  fill your life with high def.

Nothing came back just grey.

Old lady you look lost.

Grey seeping into your life.

Gathering  like storm clouds on your blank day.


This was the view.

Lots of water, bridges, sky

a ship.

That’s when I said, ‘I was alone’.

I did not look at you

I stared into the scene to make it appear

a dream.

Then as now 8 telephone engineers

knocked on the door to put in the cable.

The police lady took off her hat

and held it in her arm like

a big pot.






How many kinds of sweet flowers grow
In an English country garden?
We'll tell you now of some that we know
Those we miss you'll surely pardon
Daffodils, heart's ease and flox
Meadowsweet and lady smocks
Gentian, lupine and tall hollihocks
Roses, foxgloves, snowdrops, blue forget-me-nots
In an English country garden

There I see you, you are looking at the garden.
I see your hand on the phone
delicately reflecting in the pale light like a ghost.

You arrived after me, yet went before me
traveling to the garden, you find space.
You put flowers in your hair and wander.

You smell the lilac, sweet peas and lilies of the valley.
Your name is Tara, you are the Goddess of compassion
my name is Jane, I am the grace of God.

Family Ties

The murderer and the murdered

I feel like Agamemnon as he sacrificed Iphigenia.

I am Iphigenia as she died at her father’s hand

a rag stuffed in her mouth.


I am a myth

open my mouth.

I left, leaving the mother who will

kill from revenge.




You are the first nations, the first people.

As I was coming in you were going out

You held the door for me and said, ‘good timing.’

I asserted, ‘Yes, indeed good timing thank you.’

Ascending the stair I felt my settler state.

My emphases extending everywhere

your body, your speech, your land.