The Fraser

August 12, 2010 at 4:29 pm (A Catalogue of the Lost, Bridges, Love is Crucial, Poems)

love can’t survive here, but there

u              u
c       m     l       s                      u
u                      c    l  o      d   s

above them:
are the bridges and

on the surface: tugboats Royal City Motel matches log rafts popped balloon corpses
torn  letters    (see: pieces there and here)   f  l o a t i n g   f  l  o a t i n g
words smearing as they disintegrate and

sinking  sludge

:  bones    planks   hubcaps    socks    empties    fish
coliforms       river weed        plankton     saw chips
empty oil cans  ditch eels  hospital gowns  high heels  reflected clouds  open eyes

a handsaw

a settled grudge


and sinking further downward
covered in silt, floating river dust
: a rotting church organ                       bicycle parts                car bodies mangled with rust

three lawn darts    a knuckleboom loader   a crown royal bag filled with silver
musical instruments     [b flat]                 a fisher’s throwback    a bag of cats

antiques          a paperback of robert’s rules   a locked safety deposit box     green jewels
the bottom keeps shifting, pulling its un-treasure
further down, further south with its stream

pebbles                        skeleton keys              a lost dream

…. all of these secrets, once detected, pull you in and




N …

until even we, even lovers, sink and


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Port Mann Bridge

February 27, 2009 at 11:59 pm (Bridges, Poems)

It’s obvious this structure is female
with its roundbacked steel-tiered arch
completing its circle unseen below
the waterline –
its cross beams of one x upon the next
like the laced back of a corset forming
a curve over its orthotropic deck –
the beauty of its three spans cantilevered
from north bank to south –
giving so much more than it receives
so you can cross over what is hidden
beneath the cross hatched steel girders
grounded in the depths of
the Fraser

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