songanddancegirl

will you wear the yellow star for me?

you wear the keffiyeh after all   are you just a millennial poseur

making a fashion statement  with drink in hand?   or a true

humanitarian? if yes  then donning the star  will just be another

notch in your activista belt  no?

Babi Yar ravine Kyiv Ukraine  100,000 – 150,000  shot at

close range  by Nazis  September 1941   stripped of clothing

babies tossed in the air  above ready bayonets  Jewish blood

flowing  from the rivers to the sea   33,771 Jews  in 2 days

also psychiatric patients

homosexuals

Romani

Soviet prisoners of war

+ more Jews

how about the swastika? it’s  original meaning was  good fortune

+prosperity  in Sanskrit   i’m certain you are in favour of these

sentiments  but did you know that  real  terrorists wear the hate

rag?  with names like Osama bin Laden   ditto the Hamas apes

who on October 7, 2023  killed Jewish babies in their cribs  gang

raped  grandmothers  danced on graves  in rat infested tunnels

where cannibalism + rape  thrived   +family members were made

to watch

oh  you weren’t aware!  well maybe next time you get on your high

camel  horse  you will read the fine print  listen to the chants at the

Run for Palestine  Peace Rally:  From the River To The Sea 

Globalize The Intifada!  

and why do you think they hate me/us  so much? i did not commit the

blood libel  (!)  you know the one where Jewish people kidnap+murder

Christian children  +use their blood  for religious rituals  and baking

matzah  go ahead  Google it!

i simply spent my 35 yr career  in the trenches of humanity  working in

good faith  with your/our  abandoned raped starved +abused  children

c’mon  throw me a bone  will ya?

__

..No Dogs or Jews..Gentiles Only..

(signs found at Toronto public washrooms

+ beaches..1940’s)

__

Fall 5787  ..Happy New Year..🍯🍯🎉

u gonna weep for the weepin willow?

if a Salix falls in the forest  and no one is around

does it make a sound?  high-hubris of the man-ape

mastadon of trees mangled yesterday  freak hurricane

blew thru Kansas town  carnage on city streets  some

killed by baseball sized hail  some by slow decay  Salix

by pagan-hating sky gods

NOTHING remains  of my tree  but a sawdust covered

stump  ugliness of house it sheltered  revealed for all

to see  giant Salix made us all better  now beggard  by

it’s absence

willow  one of the sacred trees of the Wiccans  today

all lurid-moist  +sepulchral scent  of fetid tree-corpse

nostrils a-twitch  it was the lagniappe of life   in my

grey city    now what?

it’s like it was never there!  blankemptynegativespace

did human-minds create eternity? or was it already

there?  (dumbkopfs)  ditto a human life  after a time

it  will  be  like  you  were  never  here    dig it?

like the faded photos of

Katie & Lazarus

like the graves

of  Sarah & Joseph

who lay

in weed strewn

decay

or do they?

__

Fall 2026    Happy 5787!

🔴 🟡 ⚫️ 🟣 🔵 🟢 🟣 🟠 🖤 ☠️

the dot artist died today  at 97  checked herself into

an asylum 40 yrs. ago   started seeing dots   at 10 🔵⚫️🔴

Yayoi turned psychosis into immersive dot rooms

with names like: Let’s Live Forever!    (no thanks Yay)

Yayoi was sent to spy on her father  who had many

comfort women  stashed in rooms around Tokoyo

this wound of betrayal  the scent of feline on his hands

her mother’s rage  Yay’s hallucinations  dots + a Marian

Glinda  holy-glitter mother  with a magic wand

(every girl needs one)

a year ago today  tiny black dots (very Kusama) exploded

out of left eye  two weeks later out of right  sadly not the

start of this poet’s career as a Pop Art Queen 👑

no bitch! this a vitreous detachment extraordinaire  lights

flashing  still do  thought my 2nd alien abduction  1st at 10 🔴 🔵⚫️

when i also learned about men  feline scented+feral   one quite

cowboy-esque  not unlike husband #3

this did not cause me  dot-psychosis  just a lifetime in the

father-complex tent  where i scratched out tortured poems

(still do)  i was finally rescued by a Tony Curtis lookalike

i had his love-child too

__

…if Frank Stanford can kiss the black neck of  Sonny Liston

this poet can have  Stoney  Tony Curtis’ love-child.. 

__

..i wasn’t going to tell no one.. i kissed Sonny Liston

on his black neck.. (Battlefield Where The Moon Says

I Love You  Frank Stanford  1977)

Fall 2026 ..a put up yer dukes kinda summer..

i can get behind anything

59 the last time  69 this time

The Tragically Hip

Good-Bye Tour

rolled through town

woe this dark decade

of

dismemberment

vivisection

cull

+ novel viruses

constellations dimming

one star at a time

Gord singing

his brains out

gio-blastoff

+pink chemo-glitter

it is difficult

to explain

what these years are

(fleeting) supplicate crevasse 

and what they are not

(pretty) gentle into the night

but don’t get me

wrong

i will take them

now

maudlin

supplicant

on this

the last road

yer foothold tenuous

face it tho

you no longer know

which way

is up 

directions are highly

overrated

+you speak a kind of

mindswamp-gibber

when you are not

taking

a flying fuck

at a rolling

snake

eating its own tail

Welcome to Eternity

__

Late Summer 2026  ..forge alliances..you’re gonna need em..

deadflowerpower

2 white flowers  now adorn their graves

they’ve fallen in love all over again  they

put down their mallets blades crusades   +punishments

the white flowers  anima candida  suckled

my fingertips  as i touched them  now for

a little  resurrection magic!  extraction of

life essence  from their deadbodies  soul-food

for the death-wedding feast  (replacing brisket+flunken)

a table is set for 3  with 3 remaining down here

we eat highly processed foods +pretend we don’t

death by Oreo  soon  so how are we doing?

better than most   he used to say

pushing his long hair away   i’ll piss on his grave

he used to say  handsome charlieface  breaking

into evil grin

now his grave has no marker  dogs racoons +rich boys

visit often  pine-cone phalluses stand at attention  like

Hade’s hard-ons  +narcissus blow in the breeze

__

Summer 2026  ..it took 37 years to grow 2 white flowers..resurrection..it don’t come easy..

Happy 70th Anniversary!!  Frances+Lee ☠️🖤☠️

where now sinister kid? (not a short poem)

(the fershtinkin boy)

my entire life flashed in an instant  unrecognizable

+doppelgänger   spat out at 70  where is the little  (fershtinkin)

house with yellow walls  +a turqoise bedroom?  where

my thirty something husband?  BIG MAN  BIG DREAMS

GIANT GLUTES   hockey lifer

that’s my fave muscle  don’t fuck with it!   

i told his surgeon 40 yrs later

(now an 8″ scar)

spinal-fluid redux

where the children  who visited weekly?  the (fershtinkin) boy

running ahead of his parents  wobbly   still wobbly  a filmie

now in his 30’s  my age when i met him

WHERE DID EVERYONE GO? 

reminiscent of old mother  who said over+over again  Ape where is everyone?

she the last woman standing  ancient crone  it goes fast  something akin to

shock awe+bewilderment  on her face  the Reap hunched+singing to her nightly

O the memory-haze  the daze of being young+vibrant  lean beauty queen

bewitching father all the way to an early grave  we eventually had to place

security cameras outside her door  the Reap’s incessant ringing of her bell

fodder for psychiatric mind-fuck   oh it’s just tinnitus+death anxiety (!)

said Dr. Von Leiff   (the old bitch)  mother dead  within 6 months of these

nocturnal visits

for whom does the bell toll?  shotgun to head for Ernest  to the heart for

Frank Stanford  Anna K by train  Virginia W by river  Sylvia Plath by oven

ok i’ll stop  strange creatures unto death  while in the bloom of life   the

forever putrifacto   (..beings unto death.. Marty Heidegger 1927)

i sort of remember the details  but all of a sudden  that life  those former worlds

selves  others  all less here  less contiguous  less real  more phantasm vision myth

did it all even happen??  probably not  mum put salt in her shoes so the Reap

wouldn’t scoop her  ditto the blood on doors of Jews  Exodus:12  so the Angel of

Death  would pass on by   +he did

he stopped ringing mum’s doorbell too

she is on a beach in Aruba now

she never writes  she never calls

laissez les bon temps rouler

all of this

is magic against death

all of this ends

with  to be continued

(Frank Stanford  1974)

__

Summer 2026  ..RIP Daddybird.. May 21,1921 – August 16,1989)

a short poem about a certain kind of goat

so did your tribe members rape+pillage?

probably not   i was shocked+devastatio

to learn that some of mine kept slaves  owned

plantations  after fleeing pogroms in Europe   (go know)

but your name remains unscathed  +un-repentant

u pure laine

we dirty

escape-goats

(..an ancient ritual..the placing of sins onto

a live escape-goat who carries the tribe’s guilt

into the desert..) 

built any rez schools lately?

atomic bombs?

crematoria?

crusades anyone?

stonings?

face it

this manimal species

is bloodthirsty

+beastie

__

Summer 2026    O, wee, cowering, bloodthirsty beastie..

(Robert Burns 1785 + AAC 2026) 

__

..he who is without sin

let him cast the first stone..

John 8:7

i just wanna write a simple poem without all the hoopla 2.0

Blood Brothers Brewery Blues

we sat ate laughed drank talked talked

ate sat drank laughed sat+drank did we       (repetition hoopla tiresome  yes?)

there is a mashup similarity to our faces

hers his his hers his hers hers other people’s

too  ur ancestors who may have feared death

+life+being forgotten

or

remembered

as a

horse-thief

lothario

madame

or eunuch

__

..you can now and then whittle the little poem..either way

the short poem is the hardest of all forms, past or present..

(Frank Stanford  1974 ..as he completed his 15,000 word poem)

__

Summer 2026  ..go try writing a short poem..i dare you..😱😱

i just wanna write a simple poem without all the hoopla

people think i have a real love-on  for Death

this is not quite true  what i do have  is an equal

love-on  for Life  even in these Y2K post-apocalyptic

times (think  911  Covid  AI  +orange summer skies)

this section of Summer is hard  it’s the position of

the stars  identical constellations  of her preparatio

circa 2022  but mostly it is Venus  winking+calling

my name  ape-eeeeal ape-eeeeal  her nickname for me at 3

i was her witness  every morn for 29 days  as old mother

lay dying  i woke at 5:30 am +raced to the reservoir of aged

involuntaries   where they shoved a lonnng Q-tip up my  snout

nurses quipped  oh the model   yes! the fucking model

now hurry up!  you’re wasting some of my final minutes

with her  the hawks  the other inmates  clutching my arms

in the shabbas elevator  which stops at  EVERY  fucking floor

Ape  where is everyone?  her dead ancestors hid when i

arrived  (lest i ask what the fuck they did to her way back when)

so why do i have a love-on for Life: (in spite of it all)

brilliant suicided poets (hbd 🎉 Frankie Stanford 1948-1978)

Pink Floyd

chickenballs+pineapple sauce

(post-pescatarian hell..i miss those balls more than life itself)

giant poodles

horses

oreos

my body  so far un-slaughtered

my freedom (only just another word..to the free)

Nina

the Fridas

the Chucks

and a cafe named Envie  down in New Orleans  where the spirit

of Frank Stanford  Delta Poet Extraordinaire  mingled so deeply

with my juices  a returning brother  gone to buy music at LMF(AO)

did not realize i was now  +would forever be  Apenfrank  

my voice deepens  ditto my southern twang  a nubbin grows  i am

the sister with hair of a cajun whore  now i glide down the Mississippi

in  The Great Preparatio  for over yonder

__

Summer 2026  ..l’chaim

RIP Frank Stanford  Subiaco Cemetery

August 1/1948- June 3/1978

To The Manor Born 👑👑

i am a beauty-junkie who grew up in an ugly

subpar-suburb  where the only beauty for miles

was to be found:

in the ravine  verdigris + crevace

at Bonnie Freedman’s house

oh   +in my mother’s face

yet despite the Jag XK-E   +263 dolls from her parent’s

world travels  there was always sadness about Bonnie’s face

a Peanut’s slash  for a mouth  later thru a windshield  still a

fine-boned beauty  slash that much deeper

i proudly wore her go go boots  on a family pilgrimage  to

father’s office  at Woodbine Racetrack  this nouveaux riche

burb  a place of  social climbers  +backstabbers  of ungainly

women  in mou-mous +kitten heels

sending their daughters out into the world  catty+petty

bourgeoisie  while i toiled 5yrs in the library  U of T

ditto Bonnie  Sorbonne  (17th century furniture)

these days  Jewish geography is played by 70 yr olds

recounting my mis-deeds +high school haughty  while

i remember a few names  + rare acts of valour:

father’s jump

out of a moving car

to walk a blind man

across the street

this amidst the onslaught-er  of envy  that special sauce  of

ungainly daughters everywhere  especially the local b.j. queen

now a commercial lawyer married to an ex  who must still have

the shriven penis of the syphlitic damned

hey sister

antibiotics

are your friend!

Summer 2026  ..catty shmatty..the pen is more powerful than the sword..