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



Trying to open the vanillaalmond biscotti  have to

resort to my poison pen   I finally tear a hole through

voluminous cellophane with a bit too much force   Hit

my Venti de-caf   it hurtles hot-hipster-drink  all over

Pulitzer winner John Berryman  drips too onto   Christian Bök

The bastard used every vowel one at a time  in every word

in every poem +won $65,000 to boot    A blind man walks by

his white probe on a single wheel   He knows nothing of me

+my 3rd degree burns


Yesterday they charged Jian Gomeshi with crimes so heinous

he could spend generations in The Big House   You’d think he

would have sprung for Eddie G   though doubt Connie Black

would agree   Xmas carols waft from the speaker above me

Rufus Wainright winges about a hot bath on a frosty night    Poet

tries with all her might  to disappear into a wormhole +write poems

using only consonants: why fly by my shy pygmy nymph?


But I fight to stay awake  I fight not to fight  I fight the losing battle to write


People on the other side of the street can feel the red-hot sparks of

mounting anger   They stop +stare   If one more morose mo-fo gives me

the Toronto glare  I swear that I will propel myself through the window

+declare: I write to stimulate the old dead beast  So buggeroff  mes cheries



rilke      rilke 3quote* 




Winter 2014

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