Monthly Archives: September 2016

life of the nosy unemployed

You know what your problem is? You think too much like a dick.
a private dick?
No – just a dick.
marlowe or spade?
You watch too much on habits and then select judgement to pounce
so i’m kinda detective sargeant then?
You’re more like a prowler – watching thru windows.
oh like dirty harry then – falling off garbage cans
Dirty Harry was a peeping tom in that instance – not doing his job.
perks of the trade
Atleast he had a trade – you’re more just a bum.
ouch. but you know marlowe worked out of pocket if he felt for the cause
No normal person under 90 even knows Marlowe or Spade!
well humphrey bogart then baby….think of me as him
Baby – you ain’t no Bogie – just ugly that’s it
well…’s lookn at…..


Blur October into November of Our December

There’s an event taking place
October of the month
-green goblins and dancing
before the November month of All Souls.
In England they celebrate Guy Fawkes
while over here we egg houses
and the church asks for us to be saints.
Let’s go instead further south
and honour the meals
walk in the streets towards our lost
love and relatives.
Better yet – let’s
go to the great patch and wait for
a pumpkin
maybe tell a story to the night of
lost corn fields and never more’s.
get out of September
plan for another December
let the malls grow from orange to green/red.
an event taking place
-ring the bells and knock all the doors
toilet paper on the count of three
full on pillow cases
tripping on
bed sheets…..

Shorty Jenkins

i dunno

get the water sprinklers going
talk to Shorty Jenkins – he’s only sleeping
and he’s my friend
even though i only met him once

he gave me a pin
and i pinned it to my chest

so let’s
i dunno…..

get his advice
borrow him from God
for just a moment

tell him that main street is closed for the wknd
and he’s got carte blanche
he’s got the opportunity
create the perfect ice surface
and from Saturday until Sunday
we’ll bring in a crowd
curl our brains out along the shores of
this tiny town

we don’t care about summer
summer doesn’t end the spending season
it doesn’t shutter up the windows
campers don’t leave
they stay

….we got Shorty

i dunno

clean up his pink hat
he’s been with the men with brooms
and he knows

and from the corners of 1st and Lexington
down the middle past the renamed grocery stores
and the parking lots for school buses
we’ll curl – curl all wknd long

Hey Shorty!
(excuse me God)

I got an idea
i’m the promotional master mind
Elvis is gone and you’re on deck
From a 20 yr memory – Mitchell has apologized 800 radio – no cracking wise
this ain’t no ghost town –
it’s safe
you can come

so lets
i dunno

Shorty knows….
he told me once

‘a hockey puck doesn’t know it’s a hockey puck
but a curling rock sure does’

and this laneway will be perfect
and the rocks will crash just south of heaven here
and the Leafs will lose on tv – because they don’t know either
but everyone will be outside
watching the curlers of tomorrow
on this perfectly paved sheet of ice

so come on Shorty

* Shorty Jenkins: was a famous Canadian ice technician in the sport of curling. He was known for his “trademark” pink cowboy hat, pink leather jacket and pink cowboy boots

* Men With Brooms: Canadian movie directed by and starring Paul Gross. Jenkins had a cameo

Martin Durkin Part of a New Anthology Release with Novalis

Martin Durkin is pleased to announce he is part of a new 2016 anthology coming out later this Fall. The book is entitled PRAYERS AND DEVOTIONS for EUCHARISTIC ADORATION.

“These beautifully written and thoughtful prayers and reflections that speak to the Canadian experience will inspire your time in prayer before the Eucharist…” Novalis Publishing.

The 80 page anthology will retail at $9.95 CND. A release date will be announced shortly…..




Thanks to Billy Piton – One of the organizers of First Tuesday Muse at The
Tweedsmuir Tavern!


My Deaf Brother

wonder about the sound of his voice
or the silence
he speaks inside
hands create pictures
outside himself,
photographic memory.
deep voice lost
fingers that open
that must speak back to him
with palm work
when lost
in his
the colours he must see
the rain opens
umbrellas rise
the sky,
his hands must paint
a portrait
behind his eyes
and in
his silent world,
must speak volumes

until i cool down, i’ll walk around the art gallery outside the public library

the angry writer
writes an angry story
angry poet,

becomes a boxer

an angry painter


you and i

us poor

we go on tripping
over our emotions
unsure of what to do

and either explode
or swallow harder

failing either way.

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