songanddancegirl

BY THIS POEM I SAT DOWN

BY THIS POEM    I  SAT  DOWN  AND  WEPT

If I didn’t write a poem today I’d

have thrown myself   under a  train?

Sitting here in a draughty    hallway

the light fading fast   buildings turning

to Aztec totem poles  dinosaurs creeping

along in the grey     Black puddle  gleaming

in empty urban pond    I am transported to

snow covered suburban driveway   glistening

in blue moonlight   at 10    Dreaming about a

different life    here  downtown    44 yrs. later

on the day I was saved    from the underbelly      of a train

__

Winter 2012

YOU ARE A LIGHTWEIGHT

YOU  ARE  A  LIGHTWEIGHT    IN  A  HEAVYHITTER’S  WORLD

The magazine I bought today  calls to me

from the back seat of my car   Kate Moss

adorns the cover   This summer she will

marry Jamie Hince  my favourite rock star

While  I sit here in  draughty hallways at my

alma mater   writing luminous poems on mud

grey  early Spring  days   Jamie is in The Kills

and has an  Oliver Twist face

Allison  his riot girrrl bandmate said: He will make  the sweetest of husbands

I know all of this because I spend more time

reading glossy mags than  chasing after that

oh so illusive Can Lit gravy train   Truth is  at

this stage of the game I’d rather be a rock star

than a 2 bit  Can Lit poseur     for sure –

__

Spring 2012

WIND UP JANE

WIND  UP  JANE                    *(overheard in member’s lounge A.G.O.)

She couldn’t refrain from

giving a tour

Even if nobody

wanted

one

She was energetic

and could

do it

in Mandarin

too

She remembered

my name

because it was

the same

(said the other Jane)

But now I look in vain

for  Wind Up Jane

who was

finally given the  boot

Might I ask the remaining

Jane

to use her

Indoor Voice

Please

Especially when skewering fellow guides

Too late –

She’s just dashed off

to the

St. Lawrence Market

Barking:

We are a Team

That’s what makes it

so special!

__

Spring 2011

WHO BY HIGH ORDEAL

WHO  BY  HIGH      ORDEAL

I read today that the

Dalai Lama spends

5 hrs each day

meditating on     impermanence

I guess that I do

the same

Most days riddled

with anxiety:

Will a car take that corner too fast?

Can all of this possibly last?

Or must I lose

every single

Goddamned

one of you?

Being in the moment

is not always

what it’s

cracked up   to be

Mr. Lama

__

Fall 2010

IF THE BUBBA

IF  THE  BUBBA  HAD  BALLS   SHE’D  BE  THE  ZAIDA

I don’t want to be stung  by Fall’s   last wasp

I don’t want to be lashed by  the critic’s tongue

I have finally gone public  with my poems   and

yesterday the muse shrieked:

“You fucking famewhore.  I’m outta here.”

So I wrote a middling poem about Spring 2013

When it will be  green   Oh so  green

—

Fall 2012

*for Charles Bukowski  &  Illinois Atkins

WALK LIKE AN EGYPTIAN

WALK  LIKE  AN      EGYPTIAN

At 4 am    as I swim back up up   up

to consciousness    I must confess:

I have a thought  so horrible  my brain

shouts  DON’T GO THERE 

But too late  I see myself in the fetal position  

in a  rectangular box     in the ground

DO  NOT  GO  THERE    WE  REPEAT    DO  NOT  GO  THERE

A box  that fits my body   perfectly

No room  to spare   No worldly goods

No Nefertiti   me    Just my pink tee &

work out capris    Silent and calm    and dead

But not   in a bad way     All curled up and ready         for the long sleep

__

Winter 2012

THE WOMB IS

THE  WOMB  IS  A  PERMEABLE         MEMBRANE

She has rough red patches on her face

and her teeth   are brown & misshapen

She is skinny as a rake

“My mother and father take drugs she

squeaked”    “I don’t think my mother

will get better      But my father might”

—

Spring 2012 

WATCHING YOU

WATCHING  YOU  WATCHING  ME

My little niece Rachel

used to watch us

so carefully

Silently

Like a small girl

detective

or

anthropologist

She sat like a Sphinx

with nary

a blink

And in her un-wavering

stare

I could see

our souls laid bare

Once Rachel said:

I think dead people are

all around us!

But it’s a good thing

they’re invisible

or we’d never stop

bothering them –

She then looked long & hard at the sky

For a minute I expected

her to fly   up to meet them

And then drive them to distraction with her stare

—

Spring 2008

SHE HAS A SISTER

SHE  HAS  A  SISTER  NAMED            ANGEL

Olivia    Crop circles burned into her back

Memento of   father’s madness     Now the

cupboards she was locked inside  are locked

inside  of her      On Tuesdays at 10:15    She

leaned on me   like I was a tree     and stared off            into   the distance

—

Spring 2009

DAY OF THE GIRL

SAVE  GIRL  CHILD  NOW

The beauty

of a periwinkle

sky                                         blue pink  bruise pink  blue

Was I a twinkle

in my

father’s

eye?

That she had

to say good-bye

to mother

& father

At 7 –

Cannot be

true                                                            bruised  red   bruised  purple

But it is truer

than true

And bluer than

the periwinkle

bruises

beneath her

eyes

She doesn’t get

much sleep

anymore

Waiting for police

to waltz

through the door

Everyone was a liar

She’ll never

return to you

If I remember them

does that mean

they remember me?

Or have I lost

my identity?

Purple bruises blue bruises   under her fluttery eyelashes     Always on call for a fire

__

Summer 2010