Tag Archives: storms

unknowable

when I wake with fog draped all around

the view drawn close

mysteries emerge from shadows

magic flickers

spirits rub up against me

I wonder if the sun will burn away promises

like kicking covers off of a warm bed

or if this is a day for embracing

what we can’t see

holding onto feelings that never begin or end in clarity

but dissolve from or into a place that’s always just out of reach

unknowable as your thoughts when I reach out my hand

unknowable as any tomorrow

 

 

David Trudel         © 2015

 

 

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tethered wind surfers

fly plunging between currents

lone footprints in sand

 

David Trudel   (c) 2014

 

 

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spill

there will be beauty in the midst of terror

when light reflects a swirl of colours on the tide

perversely echoing the stained glass of cathedrals

finding one more reason to pray for salvation

not for us

but for the innocent

when greed and complacency foul the ocean

when tarballs creep across tidelines

carpeting creation with black death

ending stories rooted in the beginning of days

a sacrifice to human commerce

papered press releases will talk about dispersants

and highlight spill response teams

until their stench masks that of the dead

seabirds and seastars

and everything else

there will be beauty darkened

by a mask of bunker fuel

or bitumen or toxic sludge

beauty will be found in our tears

saltwater spills running down black cheeks

as we grieve one more assault

one more acceptable risk fulfilled

in service of insanity

 

 

David Trudel       ©  2014

 

 

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tree song

needles on each dancing branch

pull keening sounds from the wind

singing regrets that they can’t fly

like empty exiles

doomed to restlessness

each sound a friction

between immovable and unstoppable

wistful and beautiful

as silhouettes of trees against the night

rooted into place

but longing to take flight

 

 

David Trudel  © 2014

 

 

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trying to snow

tonight

runt crystals caught

by a dull beam

between sleet and a promise

hovering between states

fading wasabi fast

cold wind nibbles

like a three a.m. piss

that isn’t worth getting out of bed for

not quite snow

equivocates into memory

an arctic outflow bullies clouds along

until it is simply cold

leaving trees bare

fading into sharp slivers

of black in the night

unadorned for now

except for a premonition

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013

 

 

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Portent

In the thin heat of late summer

Every picnic is bittersweet

As leaves bleed green and turn to rust

July’s refreshing breeze

Is now a portent of autumn storms

Flights of birds climb airstairs

Chanting their exit visas

Winging it

Still, the day holds heat enough

To shorewalk barefoot

Letting gentle tides kiss your toes

With the languor of a late afternoon lover

Satiated with passion

But not with affection

 

 

David Trudel    ©  2013

 

 

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Dystopian Rant

I heard that it’s raining at the North Pole

Which seems about right these days

In this world that’s been pulled inside out

It’s getting weird and all fucked up

 

I don’t usually use words like that, but really

What can you say about the poles melting

About a world gone mad

Where crazy people massacre innocent victims with assault weapons

And redneck conservatives who think they’re religious

Defend their right to do so

 

It’s all fucked up

 

A nation founded on liberty and justice for all

Doing a 180

Into tightly controlled security

And arbitrary arrest and detention

While their President, who taught law at Harvard

Authorizes state sponsored assassinations instead of arrests and trials

What happened to the rule of law?

 

It’s all fucked up

 

This is a world where even the frozen hearted northern queen

Unthaws and weeps at what we’ve done

While corporations misapply copyright law to steal our genes

And declare fresh water superfluous to the common need

This is a world that spends more time

On vacuous entertainment and spectator sports

Than on education and creation

This is a world that celebrates hate and divisiveness

And calls it democracy

 

It’s all fucked up

 

The good guys never were good

Except at publicity and keeping secrets

So now they’re freaking out over the leakers

The truth tellers

And it’s like a highballing truckdriver who’s just been bit by a wasp

Swatting madly in the cab

Hurtling through the night

Towards midnight and an appointment

That I would much rather those assholes didn’t keep

But they’re the ones driving this rig

Elected officials and their corporate masters

Leading us into unmitigated disasters

 

Bastards

 

So yes, I declare that it’s all fucked up

In this world of miracles

Where some of us live in paradise

But most just live in hell

And hell is coming to everyone else

In apocalyptic fury

Sweeping away what meager defenses we thought we had

On the wind or the tide

Or the turn of the screw

 

It’s all fucked up

 

 

David Trudel    ©  2013

 

 

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