"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



In a curated village by a dead lake   with a curated

husband  +2 *manservants    I contemplate & ruminate


*a new alternative to the greasy gyrating strippers of bachelorette

parties according to Canada’s national newspaper   Rent through:  offering bespoke semi-nude  platonic gigolos in

collar  cuffs  +apron  from $94.50-$250/hr  Plus a premium for guys

with special talents  like singing


Ruminations lead to bespoke abyss  as heart beats 4500 x  per minute

(unless manservants gyrating nearby)   Is life not a brief vision between

2 worlds of darkness?  Nabokov wondered why we view the pre-natal abyss

with more calm than the one we are heading to   The inventor of McFate must

have known that it all boils down to consciousness


As time slowly becomes a prison  & all of the 10,000 things cannot return you

to eternity   Not even 10 manservants with topknots + a partridge in a pear tree

You are here to stay for the duration


So who are these parents   these giants you wake up to?  Many of my child clients

called adults: the giants who sex you   But that truth is for another poem   Today we

focus on the existential crisis of  awakening


Do you remember when you woke up?  Where you woke up?  The day you were lost

forever to your inner-savage?   I knew a 4 yr. old boy  who on moving day   after the

BIG TRUCK rolled away  began to shriek: Please don’t leave me with these people


A small cold guy  wanting to be in another world   The star of a car commercial   or

something  The Hunchback of Notre Dame   Anyone   While all around the sparrows

laughed  The gulls too   ha ha  another flesh-coloured prisoner!


I went to elementary school overmedicated & exhausted  plagued by anxiety

germophobia  hypochondria  fear of sleep  & a syrupy terror that lasted for days

(Lena Dunham  spokesperson for a generation)



Fall  2014



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