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

Archive for the month “July, 2022”

birdwoman of west queen west

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..

i’d rather be a hammer than norman

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..🦇



don’t know what u got til it’s gone

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..💥💥

the rising

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




…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

distilled hell


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




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

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