DAY 29: Border Crossing Review

border

Border Crossing Review

(previously published in Border Crossing Journal, April 2015)

5 ˜˜˜Stars:   Superior/polite, efficient, helpful

4  ˜˜˜Stars:   Small details may annoy

3 ˜˜˜ Stars:   Officious, challenging, usually on US side

2 ˜˜ Stars:    Don’t like your bumper stickers, make you get out of car

1 ˜ Star:       Inferior/may be detained for no reason/ rude interrogation

 (Unfortunately the stars do not show up in this format.)

Northbound:  Lynden/Aldergrove Crossing

Before planning your northern sojourn,

remember to activate

your data roaming.  If in doubt,

call your carrier to see if this is free.

Tourist, travelers and truckers are fewer

than locals but don’t discount this one-womaned

border unit with a friendly officer inviting you

to enjoy your stay, eh?  That is after you

hand over all the passports of passengers,

and answer a few questions about

tobacco, firearms, alcohol and a new restriction

regarding eggs and all poultry products

due to pathogenic avian influenza in the U.S.

Passports are returned with a smile.

Before you merge onto a Canadian road,

find that illusive little button that flips

miles to kilometers and cruise along

verdant pastures to find the open roads

of our sister country to the north.

Drawback:  Lynden/Aldergrove border opens at 8:30 a.m.

This traveler was told the delayed opening

accommodates an adjacent dairy

which must milk the girls on standard time

and the border traffic interrupts

their flow.  So drive mindfully

and check the time.  Plan ahead.

There is no Nexus lane.

Southbound:  Aldergrove/Lynden

Upon leaving the province,

head south through a maze of construction,

“Oh, it’s the Canadians,” the U.S. border guard

will blame, but still with a smile

in this two lane option as squirrely

to maneuver as the Peace Arch.

It was an easy crossing that day,

with smiles and what did you bring back?

A skein of yarn, sir, and a full belly.

Well, welcome home, he said.

On your next mini international trip,

try an inland border crossing

and enjoy an exceptional  experience.

Due to early morning border closing,

This 5 Star ˜˜˜˜˜crossing

required an inconvenient  drive

to Sumas during milking time.

Thus this rating

is only 4 ˜˜˜˜Stars.

~C.J. Prince

©2015

Border Crossing expert C.J. Prince has reviewed borders worldwide. 

Find her monthly reviews here in Border Crossing Journal and in her

Syndicated column throughout North America.

Verdict of Discretion

blue crescent moon and clouds

Verdict of Discretion

 

Tears wait in dark clouds.

Walk upstairs backward.

Springsteen or Pavorati?

Stars fill your eyes.

Capitolism or socialism?

Sunbreak or downpour?

The bar is closed.

Cannabis or chemo?

The moon holds a cool blue aura.

Men or women or ???

I don’t care.

Paleo or vegan?

Loneliness owns cities.

Tarot or I Ching?

When will the duck call?

Amethyst or seraphinite?

Sterling or stainless?

Bus or train?

Cloth or paper?

Bellingham or Kiowa?

Audrey Hepburn

or Janis Joplin?

Who is the blind woman?

Golden years

are fraught

with cyclic dilemmas.

Tiny stitches to nowhere.

~C.J. Prince

©2015

DAY 28: Where My Feet Find No Purchase

suspension bridge in clouds

Where My Feet Find No Purchase

I call across the abyss.

You do not hear

as you scurry

hither and yon,

wiping kitchen counters,

grasping at hope,

cleaning toilets,

pursuing vague intuition,

the endless pursuit

of internet healing.

If I build a bridge,

I will need your help.

A suspension bridge

that will sway as we yearn

our bodiesto press

flesh to flesh.

Where are you now,

weeping in the night?

I reach out.

There is no bridge

above the raging waters

of concern, the boiling

lesions that consume.

I have no tears

to stir cement,

only dry fire to

forge steel,

a limited amount

of chi to set

girders, raise

pylons.  Do you

know we need a

a bridge to the

beyond?   I go there

often, visiting

the unseen.

The bridge across

our bed grows

wider.

You disappear

beneath down

comforters.

I feel no comfort,

just a jawbone

rigid as an abutment.

In the muddle of mind

I tiptoe, suspended

between the desire

and the reality, a suspension

that holds nothing.

Strings of a silent harp.

I walk toward

your sighs, my hands

open should you

tolerate touch.

I will fly over the chasm,

touch you when you are ready.

Wherever you go, go safely,

go with guidance

from your Oversoul,

go with the axis

of my love, symmetry

of lifetimes.  When rivers

overflow with tears,

you will sail above the bridge

in moonlight.

I will be there.

~C.J. Prince

`2015

DAY 23: Temperance

GT-14-Temperance

Temperance

I temper things as I will.

A silver cup of water,

a gold cup of fire,

I temper into an elixir

you wait to taste.

Sunrise bursts below my feet.

I wear swathes of sunset

and midnight skies.

The moon catches fire,

reflects back to earth.

Walk with me.

See the possibilities

of opposition.

Breathe in clean air,

exhale expectations.

See my right and left sides

blend as sunbeams

race along earth,

yet stars still glitter.

What will you facet today

from that which

will not mix?

I don my jewels,

twirl my veils.

Hold my hand, beloved.

~C.J. Prince

©2015

DAY 22: Pastoral Memories

Fiona

Pastoral Memories

 

The mail-order hickory shepherd’s crook

hangs on a low Ponderosa branch.

I don’t know how to sink my weight

like a sumo wrestler.  I run as

fast as the Karakul ewe Fiona,

Thrust the hook around her wooly neck.

She back tracks, dumps me hard

in the paddock.  But it is the big

brown ram Chops

who broke my arm.

Billy, the cashmere buck,

nailed me, leaving hoof-shaped

bruises along my torso.

When spring grass jumps up,

lambs frolic, kids cavort.

The donkey, Carmen Burranda,

eases, nudges, pushes

her way to forbidden pasture,

munches hot green grass, founders.

The wee angora kid, too weak

to suckle his dam’s teat,

the bleating four pounder

I took to bed with a bottle,

dies at two months.

Edgar Rice Burro, the newly castrated donkey,

bleeds to death.

Be aware, those who yearn

for pastoral harmony.

It is a fast track cycle,

digging graves

at midnight, life and death

a daily possibility.

~C.J. Prince

©2015

Point of View

great white sharks

Point of View

 

Bare feet on mossy gang plank.

Sharks chomp below,

thousands of teeth

wait for the push.

Quartermaster of the Universe speaks:

Change places.

Mouth wide, I am shark,

no tongue long enough

to lick over razor teeth,

ravenous for the morsel

above.  Come to me.

Change places.

I will push the scientific

proof against your spine.

You will drop the cloak of denial.

Turn now.  Face me.

You are not yet a shark snack.

Come with me.

Change places.

I am the ocean, immense,

absorbing all things,

cleansing, transmuting.

I flow with the moon,

accept what is tossed.

You are welcome here.

Change places.

 

Observe.  Accept.

Everything changes.

~C.J. Prince

©2015

Knowledge Deceives

overlapping ripples

Knowledge  Deceives

If I don’t know North,

I panic. I know the shade

of cedar and willow.

I know the mood

of your eyes.

I know the purr of cat

pleases more than an engine.

I know nothing.

If the sky is blue,

Soon rain will come.

If summer scorches,

I wait for winter.

I know everything.

I trust nothing.

I trust I do not know.

Knowing shifts.

What was black and white

now flips the yin to yang.

My heroes fade

with new facts.

I know Orion, reach

my arms to Casseopeia.

I silently correct

your grammar.

I could be wrong.

I know nothing.

I am curious about

everything.

If I know you,

you impact my life.

The ripples in our

mutual pond

intertwine.

I know gratitude.

~C.J. Prince

©2015

DAY 19: Lady Ravenous Regrets

girl-in-moonlight

Lady Ravenous Regrets

She plucks a deuce of stars

from the blanket of night,

slips them into her azure eyes.

Before the moon vanishes,

trapped in fast dreaming,

she spins down on mossy

midnight grass,

gasps, empty of dripping

memories,

barren as a virgin.

The universe spits no more stars.

She stole the crack in the universe,

feels the void.  Everything

is absent.  Without night fire,

there is no day.

Regrets stick like radical

burrs , villains

on her hem.  No

charms to dismiss remorse.

~C.J. Prince

©2015

Can we Live Without the Bloody Brits?

BritishInvasion01s_0

Can we Live without the Bloody Brits?

The British are coming, the British are coming,

yelled Ed Sullivan.

The British are coming, the British are coming,

whispered Jamie Fraser.

The British invasion

rocks the scene. Locals yell

kick out the jams, motherfucker.

Lucy’s in the sky with diamonds.

Who knew Roger Daltry

would never f-f-f-fade away?

The stranger on the shore

wants to buy me love

but I don’t work

in the house of the rising sun.

He might be Henry the Eighth

but he won’t get no satisfaction.

Yesterday, I could work it out.

Today, I’ve got a ticket to ride.

We cannot live without the brilliant Brits.

C.J. Prince

©2015