songanddancegirl

god

god is a concept by which we measure our pain  yeah

i used to read tarot  but lately too close for comfort   how many

times can one pull the TOWER   you know  the card where everything

is falling   and i mean EVERYTHING  furniture  fruit  planets    a brother

animals  cars    e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g    the sky too   a humptydumptyworld

and no  he cannot be put back together again  sillysister   so how do we

march into another year without him?

we don’t

we bring him

__

(i have promised you poems of daffodils+sunshine come Spring –

a time when all the kings horses and all the kings men will put him

back together again.. just you wait..

but in the meantime back away

from the grieving sister)

Winter   2018  ..go away

2018

2018 can kiss my skinny white  ankles

daddy died in ’89  so did secretariat  his favourite

horse  and it was reported in the newspaper: the great 

horseman lee atkins died this year  so too the horse with

three white socks   this christmastime we mourn his son

he built toronto  said a dental surgeon’s daughter playing

jewish geography   for all we know he  is still in mexico?

looking out his window  at  dirt roads  a donkey  and 1 drug

lord   the one left after 13 butchered in town square    i’m

never going there  where the doctors don’t know their asses

from cancer   but lunch is 4 bucks   and that’s 2 for 1

__

christmas 2018  ..come home already..

forever

forever football

football is ballet  violent +bloody  some of the players

have raped   i see men paid millions  many looking really

out of shape!  gorefest for giants  questing for  what?  brain

disease in their 40’s  bodies that hurt for eternity  noble old

men with broken knees  hearts too   most only play 4 yrs

and in their senile dreams  they run  past the reaper  left in

golddust   run from the big C   not so much   but valiant they

go down   gladiators of hospice hell   back away from the men

men in the arena   they die beautiful  he’s so handsome  said the

hospice nurse  as george with equally meaty fingers  and brain

cancer  sat with his qb friend  chewed the fat about girls  and push

ups between chemo chairs   both florida tanned   george still kicking

__

Winter 2018 .. “the only way out  is through”.. Marty Atkins RIP..

platitudes

bring me your huddled platitudes

seeing is believing   but what we saw   what transpired

expired   unhookthefuckingwires   life support deathdeniers

pacifiers   don’t get me started   too late

deathbed experiences are always intense   surreal events  not

for sissies   i have midwived a few  and my studies have found

birth  in reverse   the quiet  +peace  after the thrashing  and blood

it is us  left gnashing +gutted  who must be stitched back together

without anesthesia  unless you count don julio +kush   pull yourself

up by the bootstraps  i actually barked this at my old mother  the other

day  and i’m not even sure she remembers he’s gone  but then neither

do i   now splayed for all to see  the love and rage  that used to be between

me  and my god

__

Winter  2018  ..sostickyourplatitudeswherethesundon’tshine..

head

off with her head

my hands don’t look like my hands anymore

they are wrinkled  +carbuncle   but not much

of me really does  face mild resemblance  skin

none  canada is cold   barren as  an old aunt

skin sprackled  +crepey   i look to the horizon

in search   of more   sailors

__

Winter Solstice  ..light shmight..

carry on

got to carry on without me

fanmass of blue from the sky   3 hrs. plus of football  + i

cannot help but wonder why these hulking manboys earn

umpteen millions   carolina on my mind   they lost to the

saints last night  in a mediocre game  qb cam  a giant

babyman  chews blue gum  +sulks  but i wanna share his

clothes   flamboyant +jagger  he struts  in pink fur  for which

i am a sucker  that +filthy lucre   especially where a 250 lb.

burnished heisman is concerned   he is my trophy boyfriend

and in the same dream i circle the new pink planet   farout

(like naming the black dog blackie  dad!)   and there i find my

deadfootballbrother  in the bullrushes

__

Winter  2018

fecund

where life pulsed obscenely fecund

a picture window in the room  sunblare  fountain cool

florida heat outside the room  2 little visitor girls approach

the bed  and winged shapes flutter overhead   he being

called back to the ancestors  pallor of foetal pig  in biology

lab at 17   i am not cutting into that thing!  so dropped sciences

+became a fisherking   grail of wounded children taught me

not to gasp at suffering   a supervisor said:  you are the mary

poppins of family therapy  you must take off those white gloves

and touch their pain   except i touched it too much  lost a ventricle

and in the bowels of this hospice-from-hell  lost what was left of my

sanity too   but as the little girls in summer dresses sparkle with life   i

wipe the dust off  and fly home   now winter  and dead beetles caught

in the screens  unholy foolsister  seeking spring  when the melt will raise

her up again  emptier  less aprill

__

Winter 2018  for fisher kings  wounded healers +feelers  of too much..

restless

in restless walks he’ll prowl the night

waiting for my dead brother’s phone to ring me

+waiting for Spring   when 2nd chances will be

handed out quite liberally

__

Winter 2018  ..light returns in 7 days..

SON

here comes the son

watching football with the boyz  a silly girl

banished from the inner sanctum  grab my

barbie case  beautiful +round with barbie’s

pic and lipsticks on cover  i own 263 shades

as of today  a lifetime of silly girl attracting the

big boys  ran away many a sunday  from house

on ravine where father +boys screamed for their

team  a man in a fedora and trenchcoat who looked

an awful lot like daddy  the coach  tom landry   how

do i even know this name  5 decades later and i would

vote for him  for prez   the boys of purdon in my blood

like holy wine  thankfully joni and leonard (allavashulim)

were there to wrest me from those wolves  and return me

to the land of girlcool  in my room  disco-set blaring to drown

out their malebonding  but i’d still rather be one of em  +though

my girlsoul flies with the departed ones on cold canadian nights

the boys remain skeptical + testosterone

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Winter  2018  ..for the boys+men of purdon.. RIP  lee  marty   leonard

moan

ain’t gonna moan no mo

isn’t it time to be happy?  but how happy can i be

when a huge piano labelled  DEATH  is eventually

going to fall   not only on me   but on you too  wonders

george saunders   whose lincoln in the bardo gives you

the inside scoop  as nothing else in the canon can  read

it  if you dare  for there you will find a chronicle of human

sensation  a sensual dismemberment  of what it is to be alive

and dead   is it the hoarfrost on december windows?  etchings

on glass  see through to melting tributaries come april   +may

when birthdays of departed will bite you   and in the shade  toads

+lily of the valley wait to enchant  and bewart you  should you be

fortunate enough to move out of the hurtling piano’s way for another  day

and do try not to be bitter while you wait  especially about the shrinking

of tumours in people other than your brother’s livers

__

Winter 2018  ..come spring  poems galore about sunshine +daffodils.. i will melt you with maudlin joys..