Niels Holm Memorial Page               home page


In Dreamtime of a Hundred Waters



            Staying in the Home

                                     of the Mad Dane Niels

                                                                 was never of this world.


    With paint splatter softening walls

                and bulbous pillars allowing Ascension–

                          where one could be licked by the leaves of Maple

                                    and stroked by the branches of Arbutus.


            Or descending

                  on footfalls of rebar spring,

                         arching, spiraling, rounding down

                to stroll beneath ceilings of wooden strip cacophony

                          with nooks and crannies

                                    in which to find both solitude and rest.


               A swinging gate,

                             like the flutter of breath

                                                     that lovers make,

                                                                     when nearly awake.


                             Like cookies & cream,

                                                     or icing on cake.


      A wall-to-wall of playfulness

                where colored cement becomes a cornerstone,

                           and the cracked are reborn as tiles on a wall,

                                     and bottle caps radiate as jewels

                                                 in the fragrant tiara of infinite reflection.


             A BuVoo, Hundred Water Swirl

                        cascading over the Edge

                                    like a Viking ship, aflame,

                                                finding Passage to Seas

                                                            beyond this Island of Foam.



Niels Holm Memorial Page               home page