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

Archive for the month “April, 2019”

feral dogs frommexico


we talked for 2 hrs 56 minutes  his earnestness boring

another hole in my chest  revelation at its best  catapulted

back to a time   but i have  squandered mine   on husbands

mortgages  +costumejewels  withfools+fuckery too


and with fireflying out of eyes i cautioned him about over

thinking  +flogging deadhorses   only flog what is living

sonnyboy  kill your own darlings  before the night weasels do


weasels of doubt

the anti-everything people

crotchety oldmen +their shriven wives


run for the hills with yer feral dog from mexico  who will no doubt

come back to bite old auntiepoet  for suggesting that:











Spring 2019



does that make me crazy?

he’s prettycute  a little gingerish  takes

care of an oldold man  at the starbucks

on the corner  man parked in a cart  doesn’t

talk    doesn’t know


it’s spring in toronto  gnarlys out+about  one

almost bit my cankle when i said  NO  don’t u

dare snap my photo   and as every primitive

knows  one’s soul will be trapped forever


my own stolen at 3  by peter the busdriver  had to

have a pic of me  on his knee  (don’t worry)  my mum

hit him with a broom  but i still have a thing for stocky

guys named pete


go weak at knees

thickdark fingers







Spring 2019

pete ..



gr. 5 teacher

had me on

his knee  +invited


to be santa


my father lee

+brother marty

would have acquainted

him with their fists  if

they had known


maybe he preyed upon

me  because i had dark

circles  or just because he



burning the midnight oil again

atkins?  *booming voice from top

of stairs  which all the kids could



but here i am  missing marty+lee

mr. spence dead too   and on the

other side of 62   comtemplating

the final third


where i will be holed up  facing the

sunrise  perpetuating certain myths

about remission


i can’t get u the sunset for under 2 mill

ape!     *booming voice of brother #3


so i will take the sunrise


and run with it





Spring 2019’s to your remission..lasted 2 yrs. and several seconds..


* if u get to be 70 according to

Rabbi Monson  each year thereafter

is a blessing    (lee 68  marty 72)


this train don’t take no pussies

i know a girl who jumped a train  from a

bridge!  like woodie guthrie   that girl was

not me  i am too much of a pussy   though

the tribulations i have faced  i stared down

with aplomb






the light at the end of my tunnel has always been

a train   train of love   train of jews   train of new

territories  a girl huck finn  on the river of her parent’s



today notre dame is burning  with parts of my 27 yr old

self trapped in the belltower  where i gasped at the sight

of paris in april  spreading   my train takes whores+gamblers

+foundling children with crackhouse mothers


ratty brothers

a few husbands


maybe my pussification was a myth!


i’m waiting on the bridge

with my football brother

and we’re gonna jump  together





Spring 2019   ..holy week..holy holy batman..time for a resurrection..

don’t let me die in florida


they don’t know their asses

from a hospice   which i found

not to be a hospice at all  but a

tired building where ghoulish docs

lie to families


oh we’re just going to send him there

to get stronger


though he could no longer walk from

the cancer in his bones


and is it not important too to die in one’s

home?  i should have sprung him






just a lowly sister


hey mister  +crusty nurses   take your hands

off of my brother  or i will pull a julian assange

redheaded whistleblower  blow your cover  this

place is the black hole of calcutta


blow it to smithereens


and blow me  dr.abe schwarzberg






Spring 2019  …don’t worry dear readers..i still promise sunshine+daffs..soonish..

weather vain jesus

do u ever feel as if u are positioned at the portal?

where on limpid nights u can peer into god’s black

heart   look what he did to poor Job after all   CG Jung

spent 40 yrs. studying the book of Job   and i have spent

30 yrs. studying carl gustav  so i picked up Job one sticky

august night


and i still shout near obscenities at a diety who plays russian

roulette with measly humanlife  we who watch tv shows like:

dr. pimple popper  +the apprentice  in a world where orange don

is prez  +people are beginning to rattle their cages   the deplorables

not so much    ditto don’s his inner circle


their cages involve lockdowns +common showers  where god massages

kinks in necks   but back to old job   i rail at a god who treats my life as

if it is his   it isn’t   yet though the cage door remains open   i haven’t

noticed for at least 61 yrs.     i am nobody’s puppet god!


except my mum’s  whose anxiety  commensurate with her beauty  causes

twitching  + wet-ish dreams of freedom   job survived your treachery  now

get ur paws off me  a workingclass girl with 32 pairs of shoes   26 are pink

and no one is interested in something i didn’t do





Spring 2019

..spidey sense is tingling..

and i may even notice the open door

this spring..

old ape


new-ish ape

come and keep your comrade warm

i had it bad for leon trotsky   at 18   fancied myself

a revolutionary  first year russian studies  u of t

too young to understand my fascination with all

things russia   yet i am as russian as a jew can be


today my favourite roofer returned  and talked to me

about cancer  +dowsing for holywater   tears of the

vengeful skygod  whose son died for your sins  now

flooding in


my roofer is a dead ringer for leon trotsky  man of my

dreams  with a touch of jesus thrown in for good measure

today he shared stories of his parent’s deaths   one in

august  the other in december  it’s been a hard winter for

so many of us  corey stressed


yes   i agreed whole heartedly   well   with the remnants of

my heart   i pointed to the photo of my football bro  who died

5 months ago  then i was blithering  he played for the argos

he moved to mexico  he   …


corey’s hair had turned white by the time we arrived   up 5

flights   no burning bush  no fireandbrimstone   just a tale of

his wife’s terminal cancer  they can’t give her anymore chemo

or she can start to burn from the inside   the witch trials of salem

came to mind


these burnings at the stake by the cancergods   who are wily +

depraved   this i did not say   cancer camaraderie can be draining

i just watched corey go   and tonight if i am really lucky  i will return

to the arms of leon trotsky




Spring 2019

“if you cannot convince a fascist..

acquaint his head with the pavement”

(leon trotsky..assassinated in mexico..)


(my bro martine ..assassinated in Jupiter FLA..  )

and i’ll see you all in hell

i can’t go blind!  i interjected   as my eye doc

tried to hide behind platitudinous optical phrases

the mean age for glaucomaedwomen  is 53    a

mean age indeed  as i chronicled various tissue



but the main issue i take with this diagnosis is

that women with glaucoma are 67.5% more likely

to be crushed by a falling star   i can only speak for

myself   but after much tortured ruminate   i’d much

prefer this to the vagaries


or to those bitches with pitchforks

now gathering behind me



The Fates can fuck with you in ways you can’t even imagine..
(Larissa Ione, Pleasure Unbound)






Spring 2019 ..happy april  fools..

It was in april

that the titanic

went down

into the deep

to lie like a slasher’s victim..


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