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BLACK FRIDAY - Poem

  BLACK FRIDAY . (Copyright 2022, by Dave Kiffer) . In the dream I am slick in the Red Serge, Taller in my Stetson, Striding in my Strathconas, Brass buttons blinding all, My head proudly propped by the starched tunic collar, My tummy tucked By a Sam Browne. . Which is odd, because I am neither a Mountie Or a Canadian. But there you have it. Mom would have been proud She always loved the Mounties And their Red Serge And puffy breeches With the yellow stripes. . I am also in a Walmart But not the local one Where they would Have been surprised By my Mountie kit. It is Black Friday But it must be Canada Because the shoppers Are not fighting. . I am not shopping. I am trying to avoid two Mountie Constables Who are obviously looking For something in the store Although I am not sure It is me. I assume that if They see me, I must salute. I am afraid I will do it wrong. . So, I dart around people Thronging the bait and switch sales And the dream goes on and on An endless loop like the musi...
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THE GHOST RANGE - Poem

  THE GHOST RANGE . (Copyright 2022, by Dave Kiffer) . It is always winter here, A palette of gray and white, And the shadows from a sun Too far away to matter. . So much has been lost here. Boats that were broken by waves, Planes that coasted above it all Until they no longer did. . Lives that began elsewhere But ended here just as surely As if in green fields with cenotaphs Of marble, not granite. . And yet, there is a rock, A house size boulder really, That has been moving to the sea For longer than I can remember. . It makes black a warm color On the relentless white canvass, A lost and then found item Lovingly shepherded by the wind.
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MAGNETIC DEVIATION - Poem

  MAGNETIC DEVIATION . (Copyright 2022 by Dave Kiffer) . There have been times When I have faced North and my compass has aimed Due South.                          This I know Because all water runs south In this wooden world.                                              And The rain drains from my heels Into the North Pacific Ocean. . But the iron in the air pulls The needle waywardly                                              South. As if telling me The direction I want to go Is wrong, wronger than spit In a forty-knot wind.                ...
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MARINERS - Poem

  . (Copyright 2022, by Dave Kiffer) . MARINERS . We build these crafts From the wood Of our talltree genes . Bending, and turning, Sanding the strength Out of every spine . Leaving us in rafts That waterlog faster Than our dreams . And so, we shove off Into the dawn’s Optimistic light . Meaning to connect The lonely islands Like constellations. . But mostly we Press on until We too submerge . Into the ocean, The giant atoll, That defines us. . For what is a boat But a wayward isle In the vast, eternal sea.
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AT THREE AM - Poem

  AT THREE AM . (Copyright 2022, by Dave Kiffer) . We're not animals, Emotions can Conflict In our souls. We don't bite off Our phantom tails. . Horrifying And reassuring. The rumble Of snowplows In the night.
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They Deliver, For You - Humor Column

  They deliver , for you! Deliver y notification. Shipping Confirmation. Failure to deliver . Contact us!!! It's that time of the year when my SPAM box is full of shipping scams. Either that or I woke up one night at 3 am and ordered every possible item that was on sale in the Lower 48 at that very moment. I have no memory of that. But then, I have no memory of anything I was doing twenty minutes ago. Go figure. This morning alone, my SPAM box had about a two dozen different messages regarding packages that were waiting to be sent, were on their way, or had already arrived (and hadn't been successfully deliver ed). It was as if I went out to our mail box and found it stuffed with "undelivered" notices from the USPS. Speaking of which. Dear shippers. Stop sending me things that require a signature to be deliver ed. It means I have to go to the post office and stand in line for about three years. I don't want to do that. I will stop ordering from you. Any one...
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Digging Into the Holiday Meals - Humor Column

  Digging into the holida y meal alternatives This is the time of the year when people start publishing helpful hints about how to make do when your store is out of key items for your favorite holida y repast. Speaking of which, why do the y call it "repast?" Shouldn't it be "refuture?" I mean, it is something you are going to make to eat in the future not in the past. The past has already been digested. Or at least, to misquote Faulkner, it is still being digested. Festering away in some bowel fold. But I digress. Or maybe we call it "repast" because 99.9999 percent of all holida y meals are something that we have been eating for 50 years now and no one can remember why? You know, like Aunty Grime's Low Fat Venison Pot Stickers. Or Cousin Freebird's Devil's Club Cheesecake. Or Yams. Does anyone really eat yams any other time of the year? I can't imagine why. But I digress again. Anyway, this is the time of the year where p...
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