songanddancegirl

WHAN THAT APRILL

WHAN  THAT  APRILL  WITH HER      SHOURES  SOOTHE

The droghte of March hath perced to the roote

That’s as far as I went   with Geoffrey  Chaucer

who made me run   screaming from English Lit

Singlehandedly      Then diving into Sociology

where inequality seemed to run rampant    It was

there that I encountered the course in Statistics      that left me panting  on the floor

I have nothing more   to prove    and have   since then

become an epicurean   specializing in  fragile cheese  &   fleshy men

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Hengwrt Manuscript   Canterbury Tales   Chaucer   1343-1400

Winter  2012

BACK AWAY

BACK AWAY FROM THE PRICKLY POET

I had the room to myself   mere seconds ago –

But now that    I    am here    people scurry  in

to figure out    why       I think it worthy

I did   before they arrived    But now I must

survive   their trying not to  stumble into me           

Like at the beach   when they close in on   you

All white skinned with red speckles creeping into cracks    and the scratching begins

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Winter  2012

TEA & ORANGES

TEA & ORANGES THAT COME ALL THE WAY FROM    CHINA

My childhood bedroom turned   mauve    when Leonard

began serenading Suzanne  obsessively   into the wee hours

The room where my black standard poodle  chewed a hole in

my bed     Where I hid my stash   and purple prose   as Leonard

morphed into   Joni    who wafted out the window when the air       was thick

And fathers returned to   suburbia at night    only to watch their

arteries harden  and  their dreams evaporate   on the sizzling screens of    new tv’s

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Winter  2012

FOXY LADY

FOXY  LADY

A grown woman just asked if she might

touch   the faux fox stole   eyes and all

around my neck     She begins by petting

it’s nose   then her hand wanders to my

cheek    which she strokes  as though she

cannot tell the difference   between fox        and me

I wonder if she is lonely   or just looking

for a redheaded Poet     to keep her warm     at night

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Fall  2012

YOU’RE SO FINE

YOU’RE SO FINE  YOU BLOW MY MIND    HEY RICKY

There’s an odd  young man  wandering the

Gallery today    Long yellow hair    a too dark

tan    A flash of my grade school   boyfriend

who appeared in a dream   last night    A boy

Elvis     Quite mad by high school      He had

a  band   in Grade 5     A bouffant by  grade 10

And a bruise under his eye    far too often

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Fall  2012

THE SKY IS FALLING

THE  SKY  IS  FALLING        THE  SKY  IS  FALLING

Looking at    the gap   that used to be  twin towers

Now a dour   black skyscrape  &  beside it a hole filled

with   air        Visions of    3000+   dying inside    fill up

the space around me    as   I ride     the    Liberty Ferry

on a grey     NYC     spring day

When darkness comes  And pain is all around   Like a bridge

over troubled water      I will lay me down

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NYC   Spring   2012    Ode to    The   Twinless Tower      

Songanddancegirl     Simon & Garfunkel

FINAL SALE

FINAL SALE

I want to write a poem with edges

A cutting edge    poem    I want to

sign you up    I want your pledge:

You will walk the line   into this

poem    and not be distracted for

the 1:32 seconds it takes  to decide 

if I have made    a solid case

Ranted

Enchanted

Provoked

Evoked          your curiosity

Enough to have you fork over

$32.95 for 3,276 words  I have

purged   from  Middlearth   where

I have now spent more than 1/2

of my life         in your service

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Fall  2012

O CANADA

O  CANADA

If you look at the G.G. winners  of any

given year  you will generally find:

the quotidian

meercats 

muskox

a moose  &  the sea

a pretty girl by a fence on a hill in Nova Scotia

And a safe place to spend the rest of your life*

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*With the exception of   David Donnell   Settlements  1983

…Her hand moves like a dove with strawberries in its bill…

what will he hold in his hands above her head except roses,

and the invisible antlers of a stag?…

Fall  2012

AND I DON’T MIND

AND  I  DON’T  MIND  THE  MISSIONARY  POSITION                      MUCH

This poncy woman poet said:

I  never  sit down

to write      a poem

It’s about projects       *also noting her fondness for archives

Her latest book is about:

A manuscript found

in a garbage bin

It is thin & spare but published by a very hip house

I think about this each time

I do sit down

to write    a poem

Now feeling like a

literary leper –

Because I pick up a pen           put it to a blank page

and wait

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Spring  2010

ROSES ARE

ROSES                  ARE

Today was a day  when RED   meant

nothing    Especially when  it was

supposed to   mean     something

Escaped intersections within inches

of my life:  Why are they all  stopping?

It was the day I was going to use my new

index cards to  write like Blake    Instead

I’m faking it   on piss yellow post it paper

Thankful I did not    meet my maker

When everything was supposed to be   different      except it wasn’t

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Fall   2012