Monthly Archives: September 2014

the title and the book have nothing to do with her….



you crazy bitch.
you’ve stolen the word ‘dick’


how’s a guy to make an honest wage?
when ppl think you’re involved

oh evelyn

i don’t want to write about you.
but you’ve forced my hand


it’s been more than 60 years-
why can’t you just stay






reverse winds

in age i suppose
we will fall from the stem
and split open to scatter ourselves
to the wind and ground

a summer milkweed turning to meet autumn

to me
your beauty will remain
as the casing splits open and spills parachutes
reminding me of you
swimming in waters up to your knees

you are a young woman still taunting me an old man

so it is not we
who will fall
but i
hoping to cascade across your body
hoping you will keep me until next year

and i will grow again

next year i hope we choose dandelions or sunflowers
the anticipated waiting of wonder

will it be seeds you pluck from me
or a simple wish
blowing white helicopters across the wind

frost is coming once more
indian summer has lost the native battle
this native son is searching out
his native bride


let me sing for you

then in the next moment
close your eyes
part your lips
and let your breath push me out
across the open air of this years back yard

the madness behind and the consequence of

the unnecessary madness
created by the weakness of saying
yes to no.
isolating the route
and cornering the blue light of a screen
sleeping after midnight in a chair
while the chess pieces tell you
you have one

underwear stained
wife beater – wife abandons
and the excusable thoughts are the truths
which take accountability

back to the keyboard

back to the beer can

back to the ‘i tried it once and said no after’
‘ i tried this once and enjoy more often in truth’

o sweet liberty
that is not me on the sidewalk
that is not me waiting for the doors to open at the kitchen
it is only 2014 and predictions such as these
have at least another 15 years until fruition.

fingers which wiggle into sound
moving cars with just a thought outside
of thought…

open house coat lost

heavy sleeping bag wrapped

open air –

poverty care givers handing out
heavier blankets while i watch the traffic without a window

and i reach out


love note left by husband on eve of hunting season…..

present yourself to me
in such a verse
makes me realize
i didn’t know
hunting season had arrived

November has come early?

let me put on my orange vest and my orange hat
scare all the small creatures out from under the hunters cabin

the devils paintbrush has arrived
because i check the calendar
and see
it is still only September
-only in October
can one call it God’s paintbrush on the

But there you go again

and the hunter in me smells the fall air
and the 5 am coffee makes up for the 5pm rum until midnight

let’s not put off the inevitable
find yourself purchase on the frost floor
i will give you a head start
by noon it will be warm
by noon you will hear me coming
and tonight’s feast…..

you present yourself to me in such a verse

and the grounds north of hwy 7 are where i’ll find you
and the grounds north of concession 7 are where i’ll find you

there you go again.

It’s a living


WRITE – say the editors

-say the publishers
-say the online newspapers


get that copy over to us ASAP

it’s not news
it’s paid advertising
it’s front page coverage without the bombs

-it leads with out the bleeding

but i am bleeding
from the ears trying to compose this stuff



WRITE – says you

-says my loving wife

it’s a pay check and we need the pay.

ALL RIGHT dear –

make me some coffee
fry me some eggs slightly runny
bring me a comb for my hair
i will




Write – say i
this job from home to keep us from
will write and wonder back to
the days of pick and the shovel
will write and stare at the page
picking and shovelling the
words into these
paid editorials

forever grateful
-dear Abbey

forever grateful
-dear sir

forever grateful
-dear sanity


in the darkness there is light

we’ve been there,
in bed with the tiny particle stars
all around us
the stream coming under the window


the middle of the day
the hydro out
the weather ugly
and yet –
thin streams past the shadows
which find the
window into the room
making us fear the oncoming
night a little less.

which we prepare on the old
kitchen table
matches dug out of the cupboard

the old kitchen table
was your mothers,
the old lantern
was your grandfathers,
was built by you-
surrounding outer walls of a house
for a family
which grew into adulthood
and wonder why you talk about
home as if it were in
the past.


a phone call
or a
text msg
email or a
boxed letter –

child asking,
‘are you alright in this weather?’
and in the moment you understand
are calling as though they were 10
years old again
knocking on your bedroom door
afraid of the darkness
and needing just that fine particle
of light
which only you can provide.

they call too
now as
adult(s), making sure-
watching the rain,
that you are not in need of anything.
offering or returning
those layers of light kept in the
vault from years ago
when, outside the bedroom
something tapped in the darkness
and woke them from the security
of a bunk-bed womb.

in the exchange
weather moves along
night breaks back into day
the afternoon
remembers the morning
and the kitchen table stands on
four legs, the
way it always does.

life is simple outside of our own minds
and one day rolls into the next

but the light

the thin stream of particle stars,
take us beyond what secures us,
reminds us of what we
can’t take with us-
and ground
two generations
both wanting
which can only come




Saturday September 27 2014 – Martin Durkin will be Reading from his latest novel “SteelTown for Mary – Memoirs From a Dick” at The Hamilton Store on James Street as part of Culture Days | Fête de la culture. The event will take place starting at 2pm.

“I wrote SteelTown for Mary as an homage to a city I have come to love and call a second home. To be able to debut this book at The Hamilton Store via Culture Days…. it’s a great honour and I am forever thankful to Donna Reid owner of The Hamilton Store for allowing me to do so.”

In an afterword for the book – Graham Crawford original Owner of Hamilton HIStory + HERitage (Now the Hamilton Store) had these kind words to say….
“SteelTown for Mary…An unusual and remarkably rich and evocative narrative told so adeptly by an author who knows how to use in almost impossibly few words to engage the reader. Durkin brings Hamilton and its characters to life, stanza by stanza.”

For More information Regarding the event feel free to Contact Martin Durkin via Facebook or visit the EVENT PAGE:


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