I’m Afraid
I’m afraid that it’ll be cliche
I’m afraid that it won’t be art
Maybe i’ll never be
Embroiled in controversy
Public enemy number one on the hit list
Something remiss? The look in your eye says
You’ll never be the first in line to buy
Because it’s just not good enough to be
Art, I’m afraid…that it’ll be cliche.
there is a bottle of sparkling muscat by my clock
that reads, almost one
dark. inviting. wrapped in pink foil.
rimmed with gold.
pop a cork in one ear and out the other
that’s the way we dance around
the mulberry bush
joyfully seeking pleasure
knowing where to find it
trying to resist it
knowing it will make us sick
tomorrow crying into the phone.
it was on impulse that i purchased you,
you were pretty and came highly recommended
at an honourable establishment
you were chosen for me by
one who had already tasted your pleasures.
they say you’re bubbly.
they say you’re sweet.
they say your fragrance is intoxicating.
and there you wait for me,
and there I will keep you,
bottle of sparkling muscato
Petale,
Il vino dell’Amore,
my love,
by the clock that reads a little past one.
I am reading the “missed connections” section on Craigslist, and Ooh…it’s a treasure trove of stories, a resting place for hopes and imagined futures. It’s like reading novels, and catching a glimpse of someone’s deepest wishes for love, lust, or maybe just another chance at a real connection with another human being.
A place to strike a flare and hope that the one person you need sees it before it fizzles out.
I saw you here
you don’t know me
you’re gorgeous
you knocked my socks off
you stopped me dead in my tracks
i miss you
it’s been __ years
i briefly looked into your eyes
you deserve better
i know it’s a long shot, but
maybe coffee sometime?
i see you on the __ bus all the time
maybe it’s time for a real chat
you shyly smiled
that was the last i saw of you
let’s do coffee
i bet you read these ads
i still think about you
we could
i doubt you’d check a site like this
but if you do
you helped me at the ____ store
last night i kept running into you
where are you?
we exchanged some smiles
i bummed a smoke off you
yes. you should call.
we might have missed out on something
if you get this
i bought you a coffee
i really wish i said something
not coffee that’s cliche
we made eye contact
i miss you so much that it hurts
let’s chat about more than just
was i wrong about the connection i felt?
should i call we are both attached
wish you’d somehow see this
jess i’m sorry
i still look into my old mailboxes
tick tack
tic
tack
clack
clack
type away in your coffeehouses
share with me your dreams
i will listen
…to sleep?
am i tired and not sleepy
or
am i sleepy and not tired?
either way
I say
surplus them all.
drown them in a crashing wave
shoot them
aim for the lighthouse
miss.
heather grey fading to black
i seek you.
faraway apartments with your lights still on
i just saw your light turn on
the brightest of them all
three floors from the top
do you share my thoughts
do you have to run to the bathroom
do you suffer from nocturia
why are your lights on
brighter in my blackout than i am blinded
framed by the darkest rims of light
induce the illusion
bring the rain
the inappropriateness
of that phrase
is well documented
in the peak.
new pillows lined up in pairs.
old waterbottles lined up in pairs.
curtains tied up in pairs.
to let the light in.
202 the time is it the right time
everything keeps turning
fighting to stay still
the constant tap of the drip
has driven me to edges in the months passing
enough to make me move
to twitch to scream to tap right back
because i think it’s you tapping on the other side of the wall
a faceless neighbour in a rental building
but no it’s not you
it’s not you my faceless neighbour
it’s not your pencil tapping your desk
it’s not you with a small hammer at all hours of the night
it’s not my keyboard
it’s not the right harmonic frequency to shatter
no they don’t match
they just come and go and sometimes they come back and that’s when they decide to renovate.
just let me continue
to peck and write without thinking
to let my fingers do the walking
do the talking
to the docking fo the ship
about to set sail to the vast unknown
where anything is possible
where nothing hides behind closed doors
where everything is seen. everybody
your light is still on.
are you on vacation? have you set your light on a timer
and mixed up am pm it’s not simple
i admit it’s not
you’re just a small candle
brighter than the other ones in the low horizon sky.
i can’t see you but i can see your light.
go to sleep now.
go to sleep now
you’ve had your fill of dream for a waking day
it’s not that deep
it’s not as deep as you think
close your eyes and sing
a lullaby for lucy recall everything from the past seasons change
they must fade they all fade and when they do
i remember them the next time
in brilliant detail in glow
be peaceful. be poisoned.
be awake when you are called and not before.
cross my path and i’ll cross yours
in dreams we’ve got hours to talk
don’t frustrate me
fly.
the exercise below is strictly for cobweb-clearing. It’s something I do once every so often just to reset all the switches in my head.
the room
the room is light blue
white door red rose
around the posey ring
bring a mouthful of rosey
to the white noise of ringing wind.
tape up that hole in the screen
keep the mosquitoes in
then open the window to torture them.
wave at me darling, i know you can see
beyond the end of your toes
’cause once you sink you sink forever
and your reaching hand becomes
another growing plant in the field and
no one will know why it looks that way you say
don’t look at me that way
just sit and eat your grain. raw. unhusked.
in the middle of the threshing floor
by the fistful – stretch while you’re at it
then strew the lavender over it
like they used to.
say hi to susie creamcheese before you return
she’s stuck on the web
and can’t get out the product of a star
in late years set to appear at random.
get the turkey in 30.
smush smush
spin spin
my mind is spinning again.
Actually no, it’s avoiding the task at hand
Doing everything possible in its power to eradicate any impulse
to begin doing homework
it won’t even let me type the word tre…trea…treatmmmm
TREATMENT.
oh no what shall we do?
write please,
now please,
if you please, please
no please,
not now please,
i’ll have my people call you
if you please, please
just once, please
not twice please,
don’t do it again, please,
don’t …please
block it out please
send me a love letter please
tell me you love me please
if you will, please
The word please
looks weird “Please”
like a cross-tease
of “ply” and “ease”
enough of that try again
force reluctant fingers to sing
bring again the ring
of loud music to my buzzing ear
this is stupid. i can’t do this here.
cough cough
spin spin
my mind is spinning again.
salsa is fun, i can’t wait to learn more.
I can’t wait to go to game 1 of the memorial cup tomorrow;
i’ve never been to a real live hockey game where players get paid to play;
I can’t believe i won those really good tix.
i need to find somebody to go to some of these games with me.
i wonder if the guys at dance class take salsa or swing because they’re trying to meet girls.
i wonder if the girls at salsa or swing go to meet guys.
maybe that’s why one of the guys asked about my engagement ring.
i’m glad i have an engagement ring.
more than that i’m glad to be getting married to someone i love dearly.
i wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.
i can’t decide what to do with my tomorrow.
i can’t stop thinking about these really weird fake teeth that one of the guys at salsa had.
poor guy.
he looked like austin powers.
i hope that guy doesn’t find me on facebook.
why won’t the cat stop meowing?
I think it’s in heat again.
I’m afraid it’ll jump out of my 3rd storey window just to go get preggers.
i had a migraine yesterday.
i was all weirded out and hallucinating today.
why was it so difficult to look people in the eye today?
i think their light was too bright for my migraine.
migraines have lives of their own.
i want this cough to go away.
why do some people not look me in the eye when dancing with me?
It’s really weird when that happens.
It’s like they want to learn to dance but they leave the room when they’re dancing.
do i scare them with too much eye contact?
no, it can’t be, because it feels perfectly normal with other people who do look me in the eye.
i wonder how many dust particles there are in this room right now.
I wonder what particles could be called dust.
I wonder why they bleach tampons.
I wonder why unbleached tampons are still white.
i liked sitting in the garden today.
i liked eating a chinese lunch while sitting in a chinese garden, today.
i liked being with a friend eating lunch in a garden, today.
my elbow hurts.
my fiance has a fractured wrist from hockey.
i wish i could kiss it better.
i wish i could kiss my elbow.
i left an uneaten lunch in my locker today.
i wonder if i can still eat it tomorrow.
it’s 1205.
in the quiet of the night, i can hear somebody in an apartment across the street having an orgasm.
i dislike loud machinery.
loud machinery like loud cars.
they wake me up with their loudness and i think we’re being bombed.
i like matching shoes.
i like matching socks.
i wonder where socks go to die.
why don’t socks ever die in pairs?
when a sock goes missing you always hope it comes back but it rarely ever does.
if it does you celebrate.
i need to sneeze.
i like sneezing.
i laugh when nurses take blood from me.
it tickles.
i laugh when i fall down the stairs.
it’s funny.
i wonder how i’ll die.
maybe i’ll die laughing.
that would be good.
The Kingsmen and Humpty got into this really heated discussion
over artistic license in song and rhyme
when all of a sudden they heard a bugle in the distance
and one of the KM’s excused himself by saying, “me gotta go”.
Well that really put Humpty over the edge -
He raised a stubby arm in protest
Declaring war on all of popular culture
Standing up on that wall to take his stand,
When the bugle sounded loud and clear behind him
announcing the arrival of one of the Kingsmen’s motorized carriages
(this was the 60’s already)
Startling Humpty
Who fell backwards onto the roof of that darned car,
and cracked his entire body open on the roof of said darned car.
The Kingsmen claimed they couldn’t put him back together again,
The car claimed no responsibility in the accident,
So they decided to make the best of the situation
making an omelette, large enough to feed four.
Episode 002 comes to you courtesy of last night’s late night journey through the foggy muck (moggy f*ck?) of brain confetti…you know, that stuff that happens generally as you try to fall asleep. So I decided to write it all down.
Episode 002 – The Revenge of the Nursery Rhyme
There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.
She had SO many children, she REALLY didn’t know what to do.
So she took them to the barber,
down at the harbour,
and commanded him to dye their hair blue.
Hickory, Slickery Hock,
That pig ran up her frock.
The dame yelled “WUN!”
The pig squealed “TUN!?”
Hickory Slickery Hock!
Hippity hippity hop,
the bunny hopped to the top.
The top fell down
bunny broke his crown…
Hip *ouch*…Hip *ouch* …Pity…
For the vertically challenged sports enthusiast:
“Hickory dickory dock!”
The ‘mouse’…ran up the clock.
The coach was mad
The crowd was sad
Bickering flickering jocks
We sang “Peas porridge hot” in Alison’s warmup yesterday morning…got it stuck in my head, in various unorthodox configurations…
Seize courage not
Please forage gold
Squeeze orange by the blot
Fine glazed mold.
Freeze! Courage caught!
Seize! Storage’d gold,
Ease orange over naught
I’ve played, rolled.
Me’s the boorish fought!
He’s the foolish bold,
Tease the poor-ish into pot
Blind, payrolled.
It’s great to be here guys, it’s really great to be here.
everything all means shit when you can’t share the best memories of your day with the person you love most.
Ode to tonight
oh the schismic-chasmic divide between his acting life and acting my life
separated by two to four inches from the desired floor by an overcrowded elevator
the cables broken.
[the h word]
a small glassy-gummy pill juicy keeping pleasures unknown
not dividing the senses not allocating them to their rightful sunswept corners weaving instead
the strands clinking.
[the h word]
object to communication, the key! land ho!
sideswiped by the lotos-eaters we ride crashing through our eh’s, be’s and see? d’ya see?
anymore no. i don’t
[the h word]
I wonder sometimes …
when you dream a dream that involves somebody else in a very specific way, do they dream the same dream you dream? Like,
If someone’s in your dream at night
and you dream that you kiss them
you dream that you fall in love
are they dreaming the same dream too?
Do you meet in the mud of the night
in the cellars of your collective minds
both thinking that if you think hard enough
“a dream that you wish, will come true”
If someone’s in your dream at night
and you dream that they kill you
you dream that you really die
are they dreaming the same dream too?
Do you meet in the mud of the night
in the cellars of your collective minds
both thinking that if you think hard enough
“that thought that you feared, will come true”
If someone’s in your dream at night
and you dream you fly with them
both seeing the world with bird view eyes
are they dreaming the same dream too?
Do you meet in the mud of the night
in the cellars of your collective minds
both thinking hard to find out if
the other’s dreaming the same dream too?
That’s one of the many things i wonder,
because dreams often feel too real
to be just another fleeting figment of imagination -
because i’ve too often had them come true.
