Monthly Archives: June 2014

when morning seems impossible

you climb up into the outside stillness
a rocking chair at
midnight – placed out draped
window, which is
above or below,
at mid level with the
stars

from

the rocking chair
is a ladder
and the night-time
has a story
and
the night-time has
a
storyteller

-do your job well
morning sometimes,
is so
far
away


the vicious circle of edgar+allan+poe

there is danger for the unknown
celebrity
writer.
danger of mental break down
of going hungry
or worse,
being just enough to earn a few dollars
through bursaries
and thinkn
yer a rock star.
coming in
late to the stage
or not at all,
coming with demands
with false promises
or coming just in time
leaving just
in time and,
never hearing the others
who are
still bobbing from
surface to bottom
and back
– in search of food and oxygen
in search of the dangerous hand that
pushes you down to the next
show,
like a rock star going
from bar to bar
never really seeing the
stage.


3 ” in Trenton

I’m watering under the overhang of the house
neighbours
thinkn after 3 days and 3″
i must be a wanker of
some sort
-amazing though, where the rain
don’t hit – doesn’t hit – won’t hit
will hit
and did

writing assignments into T-Dot
hashtag 30 or end it before
the inches of
column space

you

you sit 14 hours
elections Ontario polling,
scratching out names

both of us

making what we’ll likely see
for the remainder month
+
and or,
plus

including

the 3″
inches weather
related

and……

-30-

SteelTown For Mary…….
http://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/steeltown-for-mary
http://www.amazon.ca/dp/B00JUC87TK
http://store.blurb.ca/ebooks/470133-steeltown-for-mary


the clowns hold balloons

no,
i am not dead
it’s the living who are not alive
the living –
who fear the nothingness of
whatever ‘of‘ is

i have sat in the empty saloon
counted the flies
and i have read poems to
the world inside my
mind

danced……….and saw myself
in a living world, alone
with nothing but
my own amusement

‘amuse me dear’
you say,
and i say –

‘amuse me dear’

live for the sake of living
where you learn to feel good about yourself
and forget about the chance
of changing those who
do not want to know

the park is always open my love

the ticket is free

so let’s amuse each other
before we discover
the sadness of regret……..

i am not
dead,
i am alive amongst the living
who have not learned
what
living – is.


i forgot to mention a cigarette in this……..(one less cliché)

lets write some
jazz-wine-poems

P
O
M
E
S

poesy’s-posies-poesys

there’s no rhythm in that

M
O
R
E

wine then

more record scratching

soft needle point and thread
low-light
midnight
single

L
I
G
H
T

rooming house
bachelor apartment
flickering neon out
back window
fire escape
rain
red cliché flashing on
pave top

ruffled sheets
unmade bed
lost lover

B
R
O
K
E
N

bottle against the wall
bleeding
red wine
spirit lost to the sound

let’s not write
jazz-wine-poems

electric sounds
faucet dripping
summer heat wave

N
e
w

Y
o
r
k

California

or Canadian Calgary
Vancouver

T
– Dot

switch the red for the white
then
go back to red again

we’ll make Canadian jazz this way
and play to the
empty chairs, to modern poets
fighting for themselves
until the dishevel clothing tells them
the language is no longer
unique

it’s self-pubbed
and

getting

O
L
D

no,

let’s stay away from the jazz
red-wine-poems

at least for

T
O
N
I
G
H
T


striking attempts at failure

spreading trimmings over
a dead spot in middle of
lawn
is the same as a comb over
on a flannel suit in
hot summer before the air
conditioning
but after heat of a summer
wedding

it’s the same as spreading
dried tulips or roses
over the garden which has
yet to sprout

or a koi pond on the balcony
beside the 403 hwy
along the oavkille strip
and above her mall with
nothing stores

don’t be surprise though

it’s all been done in the past
and if you
stop by here – though a
visit
seldom happens,
you may find same attempt
trying to occur here

before the air conditioning
but after
the summer heat of
mid day lawn
care


Arlington

In the middle
of the nowhere trees
past Bancroft

Downtown Maynooth

-the historic loneliness of a hotel
a saloon, with no maid
refrigerating,
my favourite wheat and
barley on draft,
Church Key cream surrounded
by
empty, clean glasses
haunting the
shadowed
bar top, lights out
to a sense of
empty libation in
my heart

but

the show goes on or forward
as Saturday flowers blow
forget-me-not’s
asking
empty table patrons
from the Voss’s
for their love
regardless

a patron

says

after my performance on the tap dance floor
of steel, grit and jazz – boot shuffled

‘don’t quit the trumpet’

leaving me to wonder around the grouping
of table and chairs,
if she meant
trumpet poems or
the highway itself,
the free-way bending around the
airport of false notes
and exiting out
the golden bell

the trumpet poems keep coming
but
the silver jet of wave length,
has been silent since
teen years – past
acne or acme
playing
Lennon’s IMAGINE for
piano,
re-transcribed
by the magic work
of 3 keys and 12 numbers
using #2 pencil

afterwards

Arlington goes back to sleep in
the
commune of passing travelers
and escapees from
T-Dot.
Maynooth travels on her own
and converses with St.Peter

I
and 62, head homewards
back through
Bancroft
past Madoc or Marmora
or whatever stopping ground
along the 7 shield,
yields to the criss cross
of advancing signs-
directing myself and wife
back to Stirling
with a pit stop,
last second- before the
hauling halts in
oil stained driveway

and ask myself

‘i have been to church lately?

no

and
yes

Church Key brewery is open

cream is
on tap
is
on draft
and the present barmaid
smiles,
taking away all sense
of time
or loneliness
brought
home from Arlington
in
Maynooth.


%d bloggers like this: