my    E l e c t r o n i c     pen                                         d |e |c |e |m |b |e r   †††††† 2 017                                 i






January 2018



December 27


we live in a world where no one likes to talk about ideas

they are avoided like a winter plague

from the depths of your mind, you avoid them

they make you suffer; and your avoiding them

makes me suffer, too.

















December 23


Itís festivus on this wintry day

The trickle of the fish filter, the hum of the space heater, and the CBC 9 oclock news compete for my eardrums

In my mind everything happens at once; the future battles to pay less money; the eating of the fruit; and the dining of the party

While I modulate her fears, her frustrations, and mine, all wrapped into a bundle

And protecting him at the same time



I would have liked to have heard the news

I would have bought headphones

I cannot believe the limit of money

It reminds me of death


While this song plays in the back of my mind














December 20


arrived in time for chaos

even after the shiny warm wind whipped my cheeks
and if people donít do what they care about

†††††††††††††† what is it, that they do?



















December 18


time has returned to Christmas for me

a tree stands on its own

and it cost twenty dollars


time has returned to morning

I am here

arenít i


time has returned my singing



time and the perception of time

are always strange no matter the time




December 15


The internet has claimed my brain




I tried to stay in a world of logic

Then I fell out



Do democrats really need a new roadmap?

Since when does one need a roadmap towards reason?

When did the need to justify brains rise to power?


Directors sit in meetings and instead of returning with information

They return with Ďextreme concernsí Ė emotional responses to a bits and bytes situation

And they are paid handsomely, until emotions are no longer the lifebloodÖ




December 14


Thank you, universe, for that dream about daphne trasler

Thank you, for the reflection of myself in the bus window where I looked like a cool lesbian

Thank you for the small, yellow, stained, cloth purse that she was zipping open and closed

Thank you for the cherry chocolates Rose







Let it be known that


On December 13th 2017 at 6:45 pm
†††††††††††††† she said that she does not understand people with perfect lives and who are happy that way

That it would be so boring.




And that her father

Looked at me and said

ďmore stressful than money?!Ē ďhumphĒ!

As though there is no possibility in this wide, wide, universe

That anything, could possibly be more stressful

Than a parking ticket.






d e c e m b e r†† 12

in double-digits December presses on

I run fingers through unwashed hair;

to the rhythm of flashing electronics

the gurgling of fishwater

and a beeping, dying battery\


this morningís bitter coffee brought me back to a short moment in Hungary

in 2001. A woman from Albuquerque, whom Iíve spoken about before,

rented a very minute flat surrounded by pigeons and their dirt.

She owned one fork, one spoon, and one book, whose name escapes me now

About a British woman who once lived in a similar flat just after the communist regime


I own over a hundred forks

But I still think of her


of the forced simplicity

of the simpler struggles

of the physical labour

of the time spent

and of the the things I donít want to think about


because one fork is enough for one


Is it not


















†††††††††††††† d e c e m b e r†† 11

she rushes out the door

itís not yet 8

a sleeping man snores

I take care of them

Though we are all separate

How did I get here

As a caregiver with no life without them















††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† d e c e m b e r†† 8

early lights.jpg

she didnít like the broom holding her sofa together

but really nothing was holding her life together

and she never noticed

do I belong in this place

with sweeping floors

and a missing oven door

but itís where I am

so where else could I be

itís a job I hate

tied to a salary I hate to love

and a broken oven door

I mostly chose it all

I mostly chose

I chose love

Over a broken oven door

6:46 am

























d e c e m b e r†† 7


























ever wakeup and realize you drank your lie away

d e c e m b e r†† 3

the most important thing is to be objective

that is, to stand back and view the wholeness

there is a wholeness, to the life, when we see it or not

even as we watch Okeanos diving to the bottom of the floor

and as you move in your innocent world where nothing else matters

once in a while anyways

this small room feels smaller

as I sweep through the past the present and the future

with my intuitive minds eye

d e c e m b e r†† 2

as part of my new life
we sit across a small wooden table

purchased at IKEA in Dersden Germany

on early dark evenings

and exchange music from another time

over Swiss wine

and short phrases

and once in a while

an entire life escapes

from a beautiful, tired, and scared

Swiss manís eyes

These moments are few;

they are far between;

in fact,

they are almost never

But when they are,

They are life



Saturday December 2, 2017-12-02


d e c e m b e r†† 1

the darker months have come

and they go faster than ever before

itís almost like theyíre over before they begin

so who has time for fear

this one seems different;

more blocks are in place

i feel like Iím steering again

at least some of the time