You wonder what it is.
It lacks geography,
has the substance of dream,
and is resistant to measures
of length and width, and those
other dimensional
rules and blunting braces.
It is both within and without
and as if a tea drop
on the finest of china cups,
it rests at the rim of a thought
unformed, half-formed, forming.
Galleon with no luff in its sail,
it navigates the sky and you
are aloft. You arrive.
You look around and find
the landscape is Canadian.
But which of them? And whose?

May 27, 2016

Little Piddleville

You’ve often been to Piddleville
although you may not know it.
You’re there each time you feel a passion
but are afraid to show it.

You’ve often been to Piddleville,
it’s in your fascination
for the quirky things that live beneath
your social decoration.

The oddball things you’ve stored below,
and store there even still,
are the eccentric population
of little Piddleville.

August 23, 1995