In the Canoe at Night

camp saturna washington

For Tanya Holtland, Emiliana Chavez, and Barnabus Gillmon

After Camp Saturna, Maple Falls, Washington

Shards of short wave
Shortages of shambles

Where slump and slum a slim chance of
Priv along the glassy gloss

I write of images like I write home
Hominy and Holm

Folksong and strip mine
Images I left behind and stripped out

Outward a comely comedy comes

The pains of being ached by headings
Pains of being purely ponderable

Typing like a trip mine
Says a trio of mimes

No known sake of sermon
No numbers too nominal

Maximal before the forward
Maximal before the Foreman

Is it mutual
The way language escapes like lips
Like lapses
Of lions

Of sweat
Beneath barn collider
Beyond gong face

No speak beyond gray face
No wakeling walking away awaiting
Whole and roaring
Mold the diamond I seek

Lean the speed flakes diminish


on neon noon
A plea before a slumber of previous corpses of words

They wear black to dodge throughout alleyway and building snout

They wear gray if it’s a haze of ifs

A gift and a grift and a loan burdening shift

An alarm and a tomb and an atonement and a skirt

Bathing in the blood of the frozen I scream
We scram the dark green dodged and the platform

Tepid is the shower amidst a bender’s flank
Rebellious is the nature of social comraderie

I see the eagle a symbol a choke a quick breath

I hear the rumble I hear the squalor
Is it imperative I belated inject significance turned ugly into your peace
(This thus a Pacific North West Cruelty)


Bring on a jangle of shaking screens


After Self Group

Man of the gray ‘ites of hair
Spires inverse the question is who
He who
He spooling spooking spoiling

Wretched or watching
I imagine a sequence of the under nourished
I imagination I and the lake

Imagining the hearse or revolt of sound
Spun decades ago the lost silk
A spiders memory
And that we breathe forgetfulness
In known
In knowingly
I imagine eyesight

Eyes eyes eyes eyes


The silver of a moon cover
Extensions of stealthy self
Rolling through and thoroughly

The silver moon a solver
Or solvent

Els eses ees
Eases and easement in silvers
By nature the property of the most mature reflections

By nurture a certain coaxing and coping

The way the darkened bodies jumped out
To slap again

The way the fish could extend the moonlight bringing it closest

To the touch
To the face
A flashlight
A dipping beam
A dripping

We speak of humans who are not yet present
The same way as speak of ourselves as we look at our faces and shoulders


Stupor before the banshee (a bow, less than composite) (a toy for a tot, or less than that)
It wasn’t even an event of days past

It was a bypass saved for further inspection
A concentration of those we told
Symbols of @
Above and up the road a bit
Dense woods shoot the gun pull back the string pull back the memory the hood leaving to leave what remains

Northern most exposure
Northern pulsars strobes lasting
The way the light can in the heaviest spaces save you from falling over

And time cyclone beneath the evergreen
Spasms of moments
Shudders of decision
Hay bale and zip
What if it? Tho
A cauldron of agency
Elements in alignment through the presence And decision to stay and, or look, acknowledge

And then the girl a steps forward, and the course is hot…

[Slowing down Backstreet Boys]


There are no dice on the water
There is no escape
Paddle in hand
Paddle in lap
Stretching across
Or same
Or elderly


Meeting he who shook
On floor
A memory
A challenge
But are all memories mere challenges of what we adore? In front of us?

Stoke like
Styling the fire
Pouring out flame


Written on June 13, 2016, during a musical performance at “Office Space” in the International District of Seattle.