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

Archive for the month “May, 2016”



One chunky black sandal askew in mud beside

elementary school   5 inch block heel all the rage

Visions of urban Cinderella with grimy foot  Or

carried off by 32 men  favela basement  Rio   Foot

pristine  Her teenaged dream to raise son 3  (had him

at 13)   as shattered as her pelvic bone



It’s not my uterus that hurts.  It’s my soul.

16 yr. old gang rape victim


*Now under police protection due to threats on her life

May be moved to another city  Head investigator let go

thought she was asking for it  Olympics begin August 5th

If the rape culture doesn’t get you  the Zika ridden mosquitos

surely will


**The victim is from a low-income area west of Rio and at 16

is the mother of a 3 yr. old – according to her lawyer, evidence 

that she was already a rape victim.  (Globe & Mail)





#niunamenos  June 3rd 2016 march for victims of

gender violence Buenos Aires   300 femicides in

Argentina in 2015



Spring  2016



1876  Orillia   A gentle group of survivors work

through their pain  on a TO stage   There are tears

+humour too   They conduct themselves with dignity

In a world where a man with orangutan-orange skin

his finger now inches from the trigger  believes that

the giant silver back gorilla  Harambe  was rightfully

shot   After a 4 yr. old visited his reeking cell


While his own 3 yr. old son watched   the 400 lb. gorilla

straightened the human boy’s pants  +proceeded to fling

him against a wall +drag him through a moat  +take him to

a corner   As women shrieked   +Mommy called: I love you!


In another incident in the USA yesterday  parents punished a

6 yr.old boy by leaving him at the roadside  in bear country  He

has not been seen since


Of course orange donald was correct in the matter of the gorilla

In a world where we have captured+corralled developmentally

disabled children  +magnificent creatures from every corner of

land+sea   The .2% difference in DNA between modern man  +

giant apes gave us power   +orange donald


Harambe ape



Spring 2016



2 men list by  brothers for certain  perhaps even twins

their gait speaks of alcohol  so too red faces  gazes semi

blank   though clothes expensive  we are after all habitués

of the Art & Design District


leather jackets  white piping  designer jeans   despair in faces

could be artists who’ve made it?   now can’t remember hunger

drove one to paint jesus as a jesus freak on a corner in Galilee

the other to dredge words up out of a dank soul   words like:


you minions of the un-alive   you who are so moored in your own

bullshit  you find it hard to roll clear   un-do    un-see    un-learn





Spring 2016     for Gord Downie





Justin revealed his inner thug yesterday  when

in a mad rage he stridently strode across the aisle

+elbowed a member in her breast  (not a euphemism

for chest)  So does he need anger management  or



How would Canada remove our boy Prime Minister

whose posse surrounded him with delusions of grandeur?

It made all of the deep gazing  +tears at the swearing-in

akin  to a Bloods+Crips  initiation   One tall blonde with

vacant eyes  +slash of mouth  looked as though she’d break

some bones


Who are these people in tight fitting Hugo Boss  +sleaziness

about their pouts?   These people are not your friends   +they

clearly care less about Canadian built tanks crushing resistance

in Riyadh



*mass psychogenic illness is a curious phenomenon whereby

multiple individuals react aggressively to stressors such as

fear.  One such manifestation is KORO, where men perceive

their penises shrinking or being stolen. It is always preceded

by storming into crowds +wild elbowing. Women may be afflicted

as well.





Spring 2016   Tanks in Riyadh

riyadh tanks










frizbee wizes by  grazes my liquid fire hair

hipster doesn’t care  he is too beautiful for

civility  he laughs exposing perfect teeth that

gnash on vegan delicacies


it must be generational   i prefer a grubbier

woodstock mud on soles of feet kind of man

this well groomed boy toy wouldn’t put a Nike-d

foot on Yasgur’s heap   the smell of pig  only in

restaurants that do a mean charcuterie





Spring  2016



Immortality is BIG right now! declares our

culture vulture Russell Smith in the Globe & Mail

Does he jest?  Or is this a re-invention of death with

arty arrogance?  Russell goes on to wax poetic about:

the value of death itself     I read recently too  that

Catherine Deneuve has paid seven figures to replicate

the scent of her 25 yr. old sister  killed in a crash  in ’67


The value of death is its power  if i may be so bold  its

magic   Our troubadour of boxes  urns  +cremains   What

scent would you pay a King’s ransom to replicate?  Your

dog’s breath?  Your husband’s inner thigh?  A baby’s head?

Brisket in the oven? (a fatty shetl staple)  


Scent of fear as you watch urn with sister-in-law’s cremains

placed in a cubby-hole with dandelions by a wailing 6 yr. old boy

who knows his days are now numbered   The wailing went on+on

Scent of boys tears mixed with decomposing clouds of glory  wafting

It is a fact that humans are immortal until the age of 6


The value of death is the curious feeling that everything is beautiful

You know   the one that you have at funerals  + the next day you resume

dreams of becoming   a drunk   a beggar     a holy-fool



born like this

into this

as chalk faces smile

as Mrs. Death laughs

we are born like this

into this

into these carefully mad wars

(Dinosauria, we   Charles Bukowski  1920 – 1994)



Spring 2016




My body chemistry has alchemically morphed

Destroyer of silver jewellery  +a whole lot more

Brain cells by the score  memory a dot on the

horizon   But I am not flaky   I am not like Grace+

Frankie   a cringe worthy Jane Fonda + Lilly T.


Do I protest too much?  Maybe   But mark me   I

remember every stone  +blade of grass in ravine

of childhood Arcadia   and lately  I have experimented

with walking on water





Spring 2016




Magnolia brides on their way to de-flowering

pondering cruel Spring  +promises of sex+candy

Scented gardens in a state of flox   fermenting

Autumn winds   Cherubic-tiny blonde boy  plays

under Cry Wolf sign on Ossington St.    Looks 3


Now you look closely   See  the collector  taking his

measurements    From this vantage point poised for

the denouement  promise fulfilled or not   bad case

of home stretch blues    Friends developing spinning

diseases  right+left   May need a little brain-salad surgery


Sex+candy  carrot before the donkey  who is smarter than

you+me   Pretends that carrot ( ! ) is the Great Motivator

when really he just figured out that: walking slowly in circles is

much easier than working for a living








The fountain is empty of water  but full of dense debris

Yellow dandelions dot the lawn  Even the reflecting pond

is muddied   My face distorted +flotsam    2 Canada geese

shriek like Joplin as they land in jetsam  inches deep


I have knelt here on+off for 8 years   Never geese  never garden

debauchery   Today I came to contemplate  never   actually

As she  lays dying in a western city  it occurs to me  that though

you may think the 1st cut is the deepest   It is not


1st death a shock  yes    But in ensuing years the real meaning of

never  sinks in  until you are quite certain that:  forever  +never

have the same root meaning  +it is:  gaping hole    So that the next

time around you will feel instantly the chill of hell freezing  over

trapping forever  romantic notions of pearly gates  and an after-party



The reason you will not say it, is, when you say it, even to yourself,

 you will know it is true  


How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof  thinking of home


(William Faulkner  As I Lay Dying)



Spring 2016

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