Ode to a Bridge once built, once rolled over

we must have crossed over in the night,
days away and scarred by ontario wildernesses; no sleep.
a silver ship sailing at big northern twilight,
under straining cables, with gusty winds.
Nipigon river on the arterial highway road, only road
through to Thunder Bay and points onward;
west.

500,000 minutes

slept in a car outside Eau Claire

never broke that mountain

faced the shores of Ross Lake
either

but we did break Canada

2,973 miles

or maybe it broke us

I still got the black fly
scars from Algonquin Provincial Park

I've reconciled with that

they're never going

woke up yesterday in America

East coast gray sky

snow

no longer where I was
or where I was going
having traveled 8,000
miles here to there
and now back

looking out on flurries
dreary virginia winter scenes

listening to the tires
roll 3,500 miles away.

Black Fly Scars

bells clang 7 times

it's been 6 months

there's still 3 of them

an infection

maybe

whistle of plane engines

turbines

whatever

these things are transient

supposedly impermanent

these bites refuse to fade

burning red

fire memory

on my skin

Vancouver Lullaby

Snow mountains bend over
Pacific horizons bearing canada cold air heavy on
downward-sloped creeks,
fresh water- freshest in the world-
refills the endless bound cerulean blue-
automobile travel north roof capped and
wanting- missing the all-too-rounded sky
white clouds moving toward landless-
without direction- atmosphere- salt air
islands and the sea, of the sea-

Take a photo of me-

Touch the snow-

melting west