The curve and camber of lofted windowlight. An epithet for the sun.
Embowered in dappledark the mushroom kin shake out their seasonings in a randy rain of spores A fallen pollen for the dusky earth Shaded with umbrellas of gills
Sweet Memory then and now As venous as a leaf As cavernous as a lonely heart
Copters of the dandelion-Maple hover and spin hover and spin! Miss the mower Allowed to flower Allowed to root Bumbles and squirrels to boot!
The wan sun on Athabasca.Her dress of snapdragon lace.A dwindling down to frost, this night.An unexpected need for gloves. Keep moving, I must.
I told you, from a distance, that I loved you, and was blackened with the earned shame of the illicit. Noses sniffed. Fingers pointed. Hands covered whispering lips. But you? You had a look of surprised wonder, and blushed redly, uncaring of the devil's radio.
I carry scissors just for this, you know. Straddle the lacyness. Snip snip (at the seams, mind you). What's that, a bit of talc? Ah, but you feed me with dream. I lay in quandary, ear to the cotton. My dirty laundry is long forgotten.
It's a strange thing- I know Phobos and Deimos, those named moons of Mars.
In churlish dream, ragged clouds of storm, bruised and tumorous. Have I lived enough, done enough, loved enough? Must I take the knife?
It's a long shot, but here goes... A friend of mine, who is disabled and on a fixed income, is desperate to find safe and affordable accommodation in South-Central Ontario. She has been renting a room for going on two years, but the landlord is an abusive and dangerous drunk. I fear for her safety.... Continue Reading →