more than just a new year.
my E l e c t r o n i
c pen
March
27
circling; squirreling; singing and
thinking.
from firewalls to gare centrale; from closing companies,
beyond the sea, beyond belief, because of you.
how much of someone can you take with you
how much of the high; how much of the low;
connections causing connectivity
whirling and swirling; downwards and then up again
life taking me in it's stride;
March
25
8:24am
it is dreaming week - running through
airports on moving conveyor belts; waking up exhausted,
pushing this little body past limits big and small
poots is treading water today; trembling hands, she knew
it would.
and what is a normal life
definitions become ... elusive...
and glen campbell sings my life ...
need a hot bath... will deal with life later.
March 24
a symphony in my head
and then a standing ovation
7:24am
i dreamt a musical opera
last night, my sleeping brain invented it, lyrics and all!
and a huge standing ovation.
it was even funny.
March
21
spring has sprung
6:45am
let's write while the striking is hot;
silhouettes of coolbrook
shape the easterly morning sky, the dog people are awake
before me.
the world, overnight, moved
from a shocked state of grey, to a distinct shade of moss
green;
as heat swaths our city like it's never done before.
and rarely, gifting itself to
me,
the smells of an earliest spring thaw bring me back to places
forgotten.
March 20
spring has sprung
5:35 AM
March
17
How long can i remain
free
As I drag those around
me through my freedom; piercing their realities with a
stick; balloons pop around me, one by one
Am I allowed to burst
out so?
Is it possible to go
from parc avenue to parc avenue and then back again?
Racking up people
points like
March 15
early morn.
March
14
swirling
twirling
march 14th
morning mood of coffee and sisters
March
09
sleeping in my coat was a first
naming fish;
passports;
\warm fuzzies/
March
07
rental property takes on another meaning when one is
the renter
large cheques disappear from the mail slot, like food for
the prisoner, or a prospect to the whore: (Salier)
or, like cilantro for the rats
alcohol and deep sleep don't mesh in poots world; or body;
waking up with primordial thoughts, and when morning has
broken again, all is well.
speaking of morning being broken;
if i take in all around me, encompass it and try to re play
it, i get a narrative almost too simple to comprehend,
primordial and daunting, rare, not like steak, but like
myrrh.
how many simple pleasures make up a life?
hang on poots, hang on for your life.
March
06
the sky's not high enough; the
well not deep enough;
a thing so vast; yet precise, shared, but solitary, confined,
and expansive at once.
it's behind me, and in front of
me, it pulls me up, and downward. it defines me, it traps me.
calling me, as i've never been called before.
touching me, as though i've never been touched.
February
29
8:*5 am
when i woke up this morning;
a dream was on my mind
a lofty dream of blue skies
and a piece of mind
it's an extra day, poots,
an extra smile
it's an email you didn't get yesterday
it's a memo about your life
make sure you read it this time.
February 2
7:16 am
sq45nty eyes
2eyb6ard 5ss4es
let's wait til Christmas