Kindergarten times Everyday monsters in mind Ancestors of now
Lady dons her neoprene. Keys the code for vault exit, turns on the ultraviolet of her divers’ mask. Steps into the sad street, and the ionized rain pelts her with … Continue Reading Premature
In the switched-off kitchen I peered through drapes of grey lace, transfixed at the sight: a mirror hall of backyard infinities, benighted in a mute of blue. The straight rise … Continue Reading November neighborhood
Garbed in pastels and duns I went, though there were whims of crimson, and blue ebullience. And I was always just around the corner, safe in softness, empty of the … Continue Reading Camouflage
Karla had just turned 42, three nights after Christmas. At a brisk pace, she hurried back home from the corner store in the cold dark dribbling rain. Up the six … Continue Reading Melrose 3- five oh eight eight
A trusting soul is long in the learningof candor’s proper place. For betrayals rankle still,confounding the hardened heart,Their memory an accretionto its jealous husk.
May I do this with your arm, you said. Not ~Can I~, but ~May I~. And then, with your hands, you pressed down hard into the years, prying up stones … Continue Reading The church of research
Oh my Thin Cat Cut loose and let fall with a cry With a cry
Write when you have the bones. Right when you have the bones.
Sweet Memory then and now As venous as a leaf As cavernous as a lonely heart
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. … Continue Reading Someone needs help
At water’s edge I plied the sand for vacant shells and stones to skip, so flat. There, there was a tree that had given up, acute in its angle, embarrassed … Continue Reading At the beach, in morning fog
This blind alley The horde of the golden calf carries its standard on high Lemmings thinking they are lions while the meek and considered are too quiet too long Condemned … Continue Reading Leading the blind
A diving moth caught in venetian rays, like a bedside meteor. In soreness of spirit, I chew on thoughts of old romancers, closet dancers.
I look up rugs and pads. Imagine measurements and the weight of heavy things. A spoonful of white dwarf. An anchor. To be here, and not to fly.