The Sum of Parts

Her spirit met her body on a rooftop
in the dead of winter at 11:08 p.m.
and it sat there awestruck
as each time he kissed her mouth
it sparked it was dry but oh so not
such a desert of snow there laid
out below them - above deep wet

moon held shy between clouds
and somewhere over there
a river caught below the ice kept
flowing as she cried out and he leapt
out into her and for that moment
there was only that world held
in the quiver of what was to begin

cold wind sighed
warm
over fogged glass

Untitled Anticipation

Same damn window
Same damn view
Same cold sun
setting one minute
later than last night.

How many sleeps until Thursday?

The Beginning of

imperfect words disguised as poem
humanity bites the back of inhumanity
as poem takes off (with clear disregard
regarding edges) launches and flies
prior to de-icing fragile
wings that appear so infallible
until surrendering into great shudders
with a wobble of instruments poem begins
to tumble over itself somersault and leap
until all of the passengers dressed
as words we carry within begin to
scream panic hit the roof
as poem continues to hurtle out
of control nosedives towards hard land

now only one remains calm
reads the morning paper
in seat 13A
unbraced for impact

Charming

Happily ever
after the mockingbird sings

of evolution in the voice of a frog
(the frog does not become a prince)

(prince's kiss does not wake a princess)
no rag-tag heart seeps back to life beneath

her dress made from old bedroom curtains
magic is a kiss unscripted

bodies held together in repeated stitches
lips that strain to come together

unfurled into wet glossolalia
- learn to speak

Three Petals

He would recreate her endlessly
Once, as he spoke
he covered her naked body
with the petals of wild orchids

Petals on her eyelids
a delicate sleep

plucked from their
moonlit stems
blossoms parted
parted and closed

until there was
nothing

nothing but her scent
in a crush of wild orchids

Last Night I Dreamt

He would not speak yet wrapped me
up in the thick coats of night
kept me close to high
cliffs over which we peered
into crevices of broken ground
over which we kaleidoscoped
tumbling like coloured glass

The world became a gnarly tree
sky obscured by branches
animal shapes between thickets offered
flashing eyes that pierced or winced
signaled night’s willingness no words
just beacons throwing lines and catching
the fishermen balanced tucked between cliffs
tiny flares flickered at the ends of limber poles

A fish trembled the line bobbed
something was taking the bait
now only trails of sighing bubbles
we stayed until there was
no breath

We Have All The Time in the World

Happy Valentine's Day.

Ladybugs are Lucky

When a ladybird alights
its chosen landing pad
becomes new and improved

(fingers crossed)

Worry

In 38 hours she'll know -
another decade
slips through her fingers

Canned Gulls

I'm trapped inside, it's just a recording
- this gift from my sister last Christmas
a small white contraption plugged
into an electrical socket fills my living
room with the sudden sound of surf
breaking onto shore to a background
squawk of canned gulls.

I wonder who stalked that beach
held shell to ear for Wal-Mart.
It’s strange, all of this - snow
in heaps outside my window
grim dark below the evergreen
wood-smoke rising from brick chimneys
and still this ceaseless white noise

of wave after wave to remind me
I really don’t belong here.

Ink

the next poem I write you
scrawled across your left thigh
in the middle of the night

I Sometimes Claw

at a closed door.
It doesn't mean I am inside

wanting out

it doesn't mean I am outside
wanting in

It only means I am clawing
to be somewhere

on common ground.

Architecture of Fliration


My natural tendency
is to kiss you
and make it hurt

poison your throat with the
taste of my tongue

drown you like an olive
in a glass of gin

cross my legs endlessly
bat you with my eyelashes

weaken your architecture
shatter your windows

strip you of fear
until I crawl inside, naked

haunt you like a vacant building
shake my chains against the what is

grind candy hearts into your
thighs, a sweet tattoo

flirt endlessly with the night
furiously brand my heat into you

bleach you of everything but this:

the shape of me
forever tangled in your sheets

Done

I'm tired
and I want to
go to bed

Heart on Fire

Please help me
stop

striking matches
flicking them all over
chambers and rooms

blow

torching blood-filled
arteries pumping fake
desire in

and out

stop

please -
it's killing

Moby - Extreme Ways

Extreme ways are back again
Extreme places I didn't know
I broke everything new again
Everything that I'd owned
I threw it out the window came along
Extreme ways I know will part the colors of my sea
'Perfect color me'

Extreme ways that help me
They help me out late at night
Extreme places I had gone
That never seen any light
Dirty basements, dirty noise
Dirty places coming through
Extreme worlds alone
Did you ever like it planned?

I would stand in line for this
There's always room in life for this

Oh babe, oh babe
Then it fell apart, it fell apart
Oh babe, oh babe
Then it fell apart, it fell apart

Extreme sounds that told me
They held me down every night
I didn't have much to say
I didn't give up the light
I closed my eyes and closed myself
And closed my world and never opened up to anything
That could get me at all

I had to close down everything
I had to close down my mind
Too many things caught me
Too much could make me blind
I've seen so much in so many places
So many heartaches, so many faces
So many dirty things
You couldn't even believe

I would stand in line for this
It's always good in life for this

Oh babe, oh babe
Then it fell apart, it fell apart
Oh babe, oh babe
Then it fell apart, it fell apart

Oh Babe, oh babe

Oh babe, oh babe

Then it fell apart, it fell apart Oh babe, oh babe
Then it fell apart, it fell apart Oh babe, oh babe
Then it fell apart, it fell apart
Oh babe, oh babe
Like it always does, always does

- Moby

Petros

Not rock, not steady and firm
but fractured
mossy
unclear in the morning light -

Where have you gone?
My darling Petros

I never saw you as the corner
stone. I only saw you as you were
beautiful in the dark
full of anticipation

lovely in your own skin
alive at midnight
Petros, come back -
I miss you

so

.

Anticipating Bainbridge Island

He said to her
I'm putting you on a boat

She asked him
on a boat to where?

The only thing she knew for sure was -
they were definitely going to Bainbridge

and that one day
she would write about it.

Static

The set screened "LOVE"!
suddenly nothing -
just picture and white noise

Morocco

Woman as Water

She can't fake it
those dams made of sticks
those rushing currents
those steep but crumbling
banks of shale

she slips
she slips
she slips

into tumbling rivers
and rides currents
with all risk of submersion
her mouth full of laughter
until she becomes

I Hate Winnipeg - The Weakerthans

Cats & Dogs

you know I love you -
woofed the toothy red dog to
the little orange cat

The Day Harold Lemon Became

Prose, even his own farts betrayed him
became ordinary and bland, not even much
sound really. And what fun is there without
sound? His clothes appeared to be three tints
off – no depth, too much white and his ties!
Harold had always been known for the vocabulary
of his ties – orange, yellow, indigo with ruby
stripes, dots, even cartoons and seasonal themes.
Suddenly, all brown, navy, shades of grey
not even the clarity found in black and white.
They say he sort of went crazy after that
but nobody knows for sure because he stopped –
stopped talking, working, fucking, drinking
even smoking which he used to enjoy
sucking that cigarette until the bitter end
propped up against some fashionable shop wall
in his pinstripes and button down crisp shirts
eyes darting through the crowd to find something
anything, someone interesting and as he ground
that butt intently under the heel of his polished shoe
his other foot had already left the ground, striding
towards the next unsuspecting and most
beautiful
.

Fifty

I met you just before the turn;
a 1/2 century, we flipped a coin
heads we stay, tails we go - copper
gleam off the edge of a desert sun
all questions now at rest in palms
in a city we had never been.

Somewhere, a clock chimed
midnight - fireworks
erupted from a small girls' heart.

There is a Hole in the Universe

"It is not like a hole in the wall where a mouse slips through, solid and crisp and leading from somewhere to someplace.  It is rather like a hole in the heart, an amorphous and edgless void.  It is a heartfelt absence, a blank space where something is missing, a large and oblivious blind spot in our understanding of the universe.

That missing something, strange to say, is a grasp of nothing itself.  Understanding nothing matters, because nothing is the all-important background upon which everything else happens."

K.C. Cole, The Hold in the Universe:  How Scientists Peered over the Edge of Emptiness and Found Everything

http://www.amazon.com/gp/reader/015100398X/ref=sib_dp_pt#reader-link

Woman Dreams A Perfect Kiss

Into gasps gulfing

................shapes full of suck

of eager pull back

.................towards just shy

of nothing but

.................lost in parting

curl of rivers

.................runs of wet dark

maws of stars

.................fall soft into 

shapes full of suck

.................into gasps gulfing

mote

What used to be plank now nail
What used to be nail now silver

head nailed into plank
plank nailed into head

What used to be head now heart
What used to be heart now head

heart planted into head
head blooming out of heart

What used to be
Is not what is
What used to be
Is not what is

It’s more than what it used to be

be infused into want
want infused into be

bee infused into sternum
sternum infused into stem

burst

into the buzz of a summer day
day of summer stemmed into

burst

Pit Bull

I'm going to write something that bares
its teeth and growls at the cuff
something that rips and tears
until there is nothing left but bone

legs in tatters
mouths full of blood
and yet
we are grinning
wide

And when you rip off
your clothes and howl
at pure unadorned sky -

I swear, I
will.

A Garden Sings of Lost Lovers

Light leaves the caps
as it leapfrogs spray
over spray while below all
all colour speaks of murk
descends so wisely cloaked

so brief with dew
spirals a moment
attends to something crying
something that is dying
quiver quick to blemish

reveal of drop - there
balanced on the flat leaf
- in the garden ghost chairs
haunt cruel autumns
tines quick to choke

sew white -
his lilies O where?

The Cult

Happy New Year

some sparks will fire
to dance out of control -
O how that thought relieves me

Fait Accompli

Such chapters over now
How will the words define us?

White rooms stand vacant now
Sharp corners to remind us

Bruises bloom in tandem
Just below the surface

From black to royal purple -
Only dew completes the Iris.

- Debbie Calverley

Intemperate (Take Two)

Stomach knots the way he left
me still wet with a grin
slightest of wind shifts
such blue cast eyes
over polar


such rules as hands retreat
from knees such hat-trick clouds
such impermanent shapes
stiff with sand


sticks and half-names
how slow creeps resentful
tide
Oh the tide --


yawns at dawn
greedy for everything

Here's Looking at You

Intemperate

All at sea with the way he left
me still standing with a grin
slightest of wind shifts
blue his net-cast eyes
out and over different directions

such slow retreat of hands
from the roundness of knees
such hat-trick clouds
such impermeable shapes

sticks stiff with sand
unfinished half-names
scrawled into tides

Oh the tide --
yawns wide
greedy for everything.

Hard Floors Feel Soft

time to feel nothing
but this grope of whispered word --
crawl to me through dark

Daisy Haiku

today he loves her
today he loves her not
tomorrow he might

Becoming Haiku

submerged in the bath
she lifts up her arms to trees -
branches drip with rain

Sketches of a Nightjar

Souls disguised as eyes
paint flat the backs of moths

flee unencumbered
into circlular sounds of moon

from deep inside a mix of woods
across brackish perch

a whippoorwill begins to tone
of death and twilight

whir of up-catch
transport to soul departing

silkworms devour
clothes of those still living

Günter Eich Apocrypha

A pretty girl asks
for my autograph,
delighted! Except
it's her cigarette
she wants signed,

then lighted. Think about it.
I do. And am
for a moment
the happiest man
that I have ever known—

I have seen my end
and it is someone else's
body, breath
and lovely
inspiration.

FRANZ WRIGHT

Found

Beneath scraps and heaps
an old lover's shoe

Christmas Haiku

turkey took 6 hours
I wonder how young it was?
they all leave older

Surprise Haiku

unexpected treat -
suddenly you were with me
even though you weren't

The Gift

The day my mother dropped a net
of oranges on the kitchen table
and the net broke and oranges
rolled and we snatched them,
my brother and I,
peeled back the skin and bit deep
to make the juice explode with our laughter,
and my father spun one orange in his palm
and said quietly, "This was Christmas, 1938,"
said it without bitterness or anger,
just observing his life
from far away, this tiny world
cupped in one palm,
I learned I had no way
to comprehend an orange.

SEAN LAUSE

Warmth

He needs to be happy -

as I wind stockings 'round
his craggy skull
he says:

That's all I ever wanted.

Outside the Window

Inside, we see her clutch at a blue towel
or it might be a small blanket. His hand
moves up towards her bent head, a lock
of hair is pushed aside. Her brow is furrowed
cheeks flushed, body tense and nervous.
He tilts her chin we see him mouthe words
either tender or vicious, we cannot tell.

It’s the way her eyes flash in the candlelight -
that line between hate and passion that we cannot
draw. She clutches his left hand, briefly as if
she may topple, for a split of a hair we think she
will crumple like a blue blanket into the wrinkled
circle of his arms. But then he pushes and she
staggers backwards, smacks her leg into the small
wooden table, The blanket falls to the ground.

All of the photographs
in their little silver frames shake
-as if he had fallen to his knees.

Letting Go Of

violet spills
lip to tongue
crystalline fires
fever pitch throws
gigantic mad shadows
candles on the pine
walls licked by magic
separate beds
dust collectors
everything nothing
chance not taken
-- not forgotten

Perched on Pisa

The Moon Observes a Snow Angel

She lay star-shaped
black coat
open
naked against
snow
melted on hot skin
softness fell
into her hair
white water stars
froze on her lashes
cradled
her mouth moved
against black skyscape
flakes teased her tongue
exposed hungry
to taste the night
lips charged wet
arms, legs
whirled into shapes

come closer

his face over hers
watched luminous
like a moon

He licked at her lips
and watched her
transform

Untitled

branches dry and brittle
her season turns cold
frost forms on windowpanes

Satellite of Love

Race to Dakar

She sits in front of the glow screen
watches the men race to Dakar
through dustbowls of death they race
wheels wobble engines groan eyes
circulate and re-circulate fear
desire and pure exhaustion and she
wonders if the race is like explosive
orgasm as his bike crashes as he pants
wheezes breathes swears shakes
ignores her text message to

play it safe

into the pure splash of knowing
that he could have just died

but goddamnit
not by her hand.

Dislocation

Such sudden change of season here
a thick blue spruce the only relief
from this snow blind world
of white everything.

My mind spirals back to a stone
path in Spain flanked with colours
awash with length of heat, a taste
of hollowed out melon filled with port.

At sunset, a rush of tide and we ran
to the balcony thrilled at the sight
noise and force, push and pull
musical suck of water into sand.

Sound of a shovel hitting ice
wakes me and I know -
I will always be turning corners
to never find you.

Sometimes

I will give you a slippery slope
a gravel road that takes you
down into ditches
if you drive too fast and don't
concentrate - please don't

stop

it will just ruin
everything.

Lost Haiku

It was there at 6 am
clear as a spring lake -
now lost in morning mist

The Beach

starfish on the beach at dawn
the tide rolls out --
such tiny breaking hearts

Quiet

She loves him quietly -
while all the world
screams at her to stop

Shy

when her night comes again
through thin shy curtains--
he will no longer be dead

Tide

Fuck ebb and flow
It's all about the wave ~~
Catch it.

Hab

If I don't get one soon
I'll surely die
from lack of heat

At Oscar Wilde's Tomb - Paris 2005

Untitled

At 3:00 in the morning
the phone rings --
her night explodes into voice

Snow

Sky has strewn diamonds
across the yards
such tiny unseen hands

Liqueur

drinking amaretto on Sunday
I really don't care
if he finds me too sweet

the Killers reply

But heaven ain't close in a place like this
Anything goes but don't blink you might miss
Cause heaven ain't close in a place like this

Slap

should only be heard
when a fish jumps -
in pure joy of a leap

How Do You Know He's Real?

He asked me
pointing to his chest he said -

I'm real.
I know you're real
I can see you.

How do you know he was real?

I could only close my eyes
and try to believe.

Frozen Gin

Now I keep my gin in the freezer
next to a book of poetry
that still holds all the heat of Greece

Watersheds

That afternoon I smuggled lavender
behind his ear the weather was full
of bad intentions, although the sun
appeared to crack a smile.

As clouds began to scud and form
poems we were decoding became nothing
but kaleidoscopes of light and shadow.

My eyes swept up to read his face
- but it had already changed to something
unreadable and I wondered if the story
that was my face was dividing too.

I knew there were no more words
only other sounds he will not utter -
spilling into different oceans.

Still

In the back of a cab
back of her neck responds--
his words glow so softly

Idle

empty car pulled to the side
door thrown open --
he walks the road alone

Buy Me Socks

Buy me socks, don't make me need you
I prefer to walk alone, woolen and warm
one foot on the ground, softly.

Don't look at me that way -
you're only blocking my view.
I might miss something, just there
behind your right ear, a frog prince leapt.

Stop talking so I might hear him
as he slaps his rubbery spread toes
splashing onto thick flat pads of purple lilies.

Please don't love me. It will just
turn into garbage day, mounds of old
musty newspapers full of such useless
recyclable drivel. Breakfast in bed

should not have much to do with food.
So go ahead, feel free
to devour.

the Killers

And the days are not full enough

And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass

Ezra Pound

Poem as Physical

No longer are these words confined
to page, no longer flesh pinned to bone
no eyes boxed in blinders, all the world
has opened into delight of sudden horizon
once cloistered ships spun inside bottles
now smashed they gleam like parchment -

a fountain pen poised, tattoos tender skin
as gently, wind lifts tattered sails.

and now I want you --

Cult - Edie

John Donne, The Good Morrow

And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For love all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone;
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown,
Let us possess one world; each hath one, and is one.
- John Donne, The Good Morrow

The Farmer

Tonight the moon waxes yellow -
Over bent barbs of wheat shafts
Fields appear a little softer
As the last cricket fades by the creek.

The lone farmer in silhouette
Walks towards the familiar barn
It’s eaves and vanes casting unfamiliar
Shadows of slanted fences.

His thick boots crunch
The dying leaves along the path.
From deep within the horse begins to
Stamp and blow its nostrils flaring

Steam rises in clouds. Yellow moon
Obscured in haze, waxes home
A little softer even though the last light
Has long gone out. Oh, to hear her laugh;

The way she used to.

New

Sometimes
worlds grow out of nowhere
in sprouts and sprigs, in gentle nudges
nose rubs, spiral kisses that turn to sucking
until suddenly you're up against a wall
his tongue in your throat
your legs around his waist
desire pink as blush dawn
sun now coming
through thin shy curtains
and you wonder
what it was ever like
to feel dead.

Toe Cramps and other things of Nuisance

The sign read NO SWIMMING TODAY
The waves crashed as high as Trump Tower
The one in Chicago
The lifeguard was OFF DUTY
The clouds were low ferocious
The lightning struck just as I stroked
The waves frothed and came into me
The water took me furious and grey
The gull reeled encased in glass
The moon shook
The stars broke as my hand reached surface
The end is never predictable my friend -
The toe cramped
There was nothing I could do.

25,400 days, he said

if we're lucky
so we had another mimosa
cool in the sun

Float

He didn't leave he floated
away as if he'd just done
a line of cocaine

(not that she would know
what a line does to gravity)

No sound of footsteps
only

there she was
left floating too

(in Marilyn's favorite pool)

white fingers
stars pressed to a desert ceiling

How A Heart Feels On A Sleeve

A little vulnerable
A little brave
Quick-beats of not knowing
Red rag muscle gasps
Out there
Nude
Beautiful
Ugly
As if to say

Look here
I don’t belong
Bleeding lace onto cuffs

Exposed
Unprotected
Such undetected murmurs
Fear of sudden flat-line
Irregular pulse
Skips a beat to the last

thin voice singing

November 1, 2008

Contemplate distance
how near -
in patterns of rhythmic verse
span of breath, ardor of kiss
attrition of a marble staircase
treads bent to tales of journey.

How many travelers have felt
roughness of an artisan’s hand
as he placed each step with tenderness?
Who has let their thoughts linger
caressed iron rails or slipped against
each groove and notch of stone
leaned into cold walls alive with history
until they penetrate the corporeal?

If your life should mean a thing
- if my life should mean a thing
Dear Heart - let it be this.
Diminish distance even as it sinks
into twilight’s vapid mouth.

Midnight to midnight
it will always only be
-- you.