Here’s the thing: I’m not good at producing occasional poems with any regularity or timeliness.

But, after a relaxing holiday break that included some good reading, time with friends and family, a few good cups of coffee, a period or three of streamed junior hockey, and bunches of delicious beers, I seem to have come up with something resembling a New Year’s poem.


Here’s to 2017, whatever it might bring. Enjoy!





But I enjoy the idea of their shade

when the sun hits them right.

– Transit of Mercury by Dani Couture



When the sun hits them right, those empties

extant in their nesting of shards are less

a dull, throbbing reminder of last night’s poor choices

and excess, and more a loosely-curated drunk’s

afterglow, a showy blown-glass derangement

resting skew-countered, serrated, all edgily cornered

but softened somehow by fruit flies’ flittered near caul.

It’s the small things, after all. Especially

on mornings like this one when your piss and vinegar’s

turned and perverted–been swallowed, undone,

and inverted–to a vinegared distillate pissed at

the mumbling, curvilinear brink of the nauseous,

off-colour dawn’s waiting bowl, while

your near-useless hands semi-morse for purchase

against the sink’s brim or the unfinished skim

coat of that wall you’d sworn you’d get to.

Last night’s howls at the moon, now long gone

and cocooned somewhere in the Advil-gauzed

ale aphasias that stipple your brain’s stewing meat.

This new year’s a sudden 100 watt bulb,

weaponized; a light’s tenuous rhetoric aggressively

weighing the pros and the cons of the eyes’

newfound, ad hoc focus on what passes for promise.

Or for darkest fears. It’s all you can do,

at this waking moment, to blink; your jaundiced lids’

strobing–in the bleary, calendar-tossing AM–seems

an intermittent inconvenience of fact; a subconscious

bias, betrayed. The trick, of course, is learning–grudgingly–

to enjoy the idea of their shade.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Website Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: