it took weeks to get used to birdsong
dawnchirpings screech howls bit of baying
hounds the new de riguer dog of creeping hipsters
of which my hood is full too
now the fucked cacophony melds with that of life
a cacoph so base it inspires little but as the sailors
like to say: the darkest hour’s just before dawn eh
__
Summer 2022 ..don’t touch deadbirds..or shamey..
a giant hawk cruised me at the cemetery as i
visited my father Lee i left him a snake + a few
pigs griefstrick + holeyhearted
his bone-mulch rests in holy-ground
my BIG BRO was shovelled under a tree he wasn’t
fond of consecrated land ie., sold many a swamp in
Florida + worried about being urinated on
hawks are death-harbingers
for whom does the bell toll? my 98 yr. old mother?
so ready to travel or me? i who am moving toward
this concept
this death-thing
clinging to pleasure cool mornings +kishka la toni
(from my favourite deli) woe is me this as my mother’s
new caregiver pines for her former patient
so recently deceased
when mother goes missing Mercy’s voice pitiful +
gutwrench shouts Norman Norman Norman! to
which my mother rarely answers
__
Summer 2022 ..el covid pasa..🦇
losing a sibling an amputation
losing a parent a natural disaster
losing yourself a slow trickle then tidal
at 45 a man gave me a gun
shoot yourself
or i shoot u
no way out work mortgage the odd opera
treadmill vaginawasteland +phoenixenvy
at 65 a tent proffered by lone lumberjack
ie., grizzlypegger husband # 3 teaching me
survival skills which i sorely need
these days of scorched covid earth +mother’s
death watch but is she really dying or just
living the dream? row row fucking row
__
Summer of …inferno…putrifactio…+ascension?
we looked at each other mother+daughter
in a wtf kind of way ie., wtf are we doing here?
HERE in a refurbished retirement home up
bathurst street’s ass
to be frank
we 2 former beauty queens now silverhaired
mystic +desiccate 98+65 all dappled skin
appaloosa +superpositive!
__
Summer of Coming To Grips ..soon stardust..💥💥
his mother died in a river his father in a
burning bed he was Cree 8 yrs old and
my client
as we discussed Kurt Cobain’s suicide head
blown off at 27 he said: therapist we can’t
know that
at some point i stopped trying to convince him
+let the wisdom of his words land this as the
wonderwoman doll he played with EXPLODED!
legs fell off arms went flying play therapy
bomb-revelation a life without revelation is
a life not worth living
his we can’t know this revelation was perfect +gnome
as my mentor Sharansky said: most suicides are
in reality attempts gone wrong
take Anna Karenina’s death the train she lays
in wait for is upon her as she tries to stand up
but it’s too late the train has it’s way with her
the bullet with Kurt Cobain we can never know
who will rise up in those long last moments my
suicide-rescue seemed to
though did she really? or is this woman a ghostly
doppelganger masquerading as the one who
desperate +bug-eyed swallowed +swallowed
+swallowed
__
…at the same moment she was horrified at what she was doing..
what am i doing? why? ..she wanted to rise.. but something huge
and implacable pushed at her head and dragged over her…forgive
me for everything! (Anna Karenina Leo Tolstoy 1878)
Summer of BA.5
the distillery district in TO now a subkitch hell
where i went with the scott for an idyll after
being caught on a snaking urbanparkway all
inching turbines +near head-on
i realized life is not a beach it’s a bitch a wildbitch
medusadream 10 headed longing many dogs a
few horses 1 rabbit with a bruised head
hare of the dogs
but seriously daydreams about beach towns are
hazardous to health ditto traversing said towns in
search of something lost paradise found
NOT
lost city mariner walks in cropcircles around prettylittle
heritage by the sea OK! enough with popeyesailor dreams
mother dementing on top floor of rez where workers think
dancing with depressed denizens heals all
heel dementing dogs! heel!
i lay here like a dog she says +says a new take on Faulkner’s
As I Lay Dying but let us cut the crap there is still ample time
to walk into a happy ending
all fresh zen hopestruck
+ terribly constipated
__
I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire. . . . I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won. (William Faulkner The Sound+The Fury 1929)
Dog Days of Summer 2022
songanddancegirl... at 4
songanddancegirl 