my E l e c t r o n i c
pen
j a
n u a r y 2018
I often want to write about why I never have the time to
write
to scoop up all of the procrastination and having no time
in my arms like a bouquet
of a rich multicoloured internal life
waiting to be spoken
as I run around watering everthing
so once in a super blood moon,
it became a Wednesday still rife with concussion
where there was no school and there was no class
where I got to sit with my pile of Kleenexes
and write about 2011.
2011 will soon be 2021
We will have to make some friends or join a club
I lost my second menthol swatch watch not far from where Leonard
Cohen is buried
I often picture it, laying on the grass, it’s silvery-turquoise links folded over one another,
I never have wondered if it rusted or was found, or was
destroyed under a cemetery lawn mower
In my mind’s eye, it still sits under that large cold
cement bench, on the fresh june
grass,
waiting to be picked up after we finished kissing.
… and we have not finished
kissing.
and I still feel the rush and the extra fullness in my heart as
it redistributes my blood
when I think about that day and
It’s a bit crazy that I still carry this with me:
and that so many parts of this city I had known for so long
before that day trigger it
but then again
why wouldn’t they.
It was the hope for a beautiful tomorrow:
the promise of freedom to be truly me
and the salvation from expectations
from myself.
"I
found that things became a lot easier when I no longer expected to win.
You
abandon your masterpiece and sink into the real masterpiece"
if I sit here
without you
water trickles above me
I’m forced
To stop
And listen
footsteps come towards me; a woman with a book is engrossed in
chapter 21
if I sit here
without you
I heave a huge sigh of exhaled air
As the beat begins;
And it brackets the transitions
From electronic transfer of money
A trickling plumbing system
More footsteps
And me
just keep going
I did not write this on January 16
As I was forced to focus on every bone;
Every clenched jaw
Every naked project manager
With an entire body of clenched nerves
Trying to corrall people who
won’t be corralled
Jesus
Let it all go
Just let it all go
Just listen to the trickling water
Windex and Judgement
over the interwebs we live
us netarrati, us interwebians;
building stories and relations
out of blocks of text and paragraphs
I will tell you where desire moves
If you watch closely enough
It begins in the heart as a small flame
and transforms itself into pubescent confusion
about control and more confusion
then it lands squarely in the loins
where it makes its home until you fall in love
where it dances to different music
depending on your convictions
and how much alcohol is consumed
and for a time, it thinks it understands
itself
and it’s particular gravitations
but
but if ever you decide that it is not required;
you think you can ignore it
that it is not related anymore to you
that you do not own it anymore
you will find it will transform itself
into very stranger things
like matching appliances
marathons
and total control over your children
and when this happens
if you are lucky
you will find yourself gravely mistaken
jan 12
mementos
mementos
in the bleak midwinter it’s midwinter
and more birthdays with large round numbers are forgotten
than remembered –
heaters hum while a human awakes
and many hours later still stares at the bubblegum box.
the world is more beautiful when you dream
whether dreams of gold or silver
the young beautiful ones don’t want anyone marring their
ideals
with their pointy toes pointing in one direction
click clack
and then they poop just like me and you.