Wednesday, December 31, 2003

Sketch of Streetcar Platform

_____waiting for the train
I pace forth
_____then back
__________a rumble from the tracks
A train thunders by
Wrong direction
_____The thwip tthhwhip of electricity
Blue arc of energy


I look down to find
_____two white flowers
__________lying frozen side by side

[Go back to doctor up the metre. Revise]

Monday, December 29, 2003


Too introspective so early in the morning-
Careful! You're going to hurt yourself...


I feel like I'm living in this amazing time, in this amazing place, where anything can happen - and anything does happen - every day.

My father lived to see the rise of America, and I will live to see it fall. Just as my grandfather did. Cyclical. Perfection.

To much time wasted, sipping coffee in the park
I bury my chin in my scarf
_____writing words on this page

Stand, stretch, before wandering
Rat Guy beckons

Sunday, December 28, 2003

Centre Stage

And who d'ya think I am?
The old drunk shouted through the dark
C'mon o'er here!
All this to a stranger on the street

A car passes on the rain-soaked pavement
And the driver wonders
What if this is the greatest story ever told?

Saturday, December 27, 2003

Ezra Pound vs. Jim Beam

I'm lying in bed in an airy Puerto Rican motel room - the same one I spent so much time in last year - and I'm looking out at the brilliant blue sea rolling outside my open window. The light cheesecloth curtains are carried inside on the breeze. I've got no blankets on, as the air already feels so hot and dry, but I am wearing some of those one-piece pajamas with the bum-flap.

I'm fully awake, but too lazy to get out of bed. I have to pee, but I'm too lazy to get out of bed. There's a knock at the door, but I'm too lazy to get out of bed. Instead, I call out: "who's there?"

"Housekeeping!" is the reply I hear through the flimsy wooden door.

I yell for her to come in.

When the maid sticks her head into the room, I explain that it's okay, that I'm awake but am going to stay in bed all day, and that she can go about her regular business. Making her way inside, she notices a book lying open, but face down, on my bed - ABC reading, by Ezra Pound. We then proceed to argue about Pound for awhile, and I'm increasingly impressed with the maids knowledge of contemporary American writing.

All of a sudden my attention is drawn to a half-empty bottle of Jim Beam sitting on the antique highboy across the room, and I lose my train of thought.

I'm still too lazy to get out of bed.


I grow a beard to hide my sneaking madness
A beard implies maturity - demands respect
I enunciate to mask insanity
Only madmen mumble, and madmen don't regret I pretend to

Wednesday, December 24, 2003

Three Colourful Fish

I was fishing with Jesus on the sandy bank of a river - it's waters smooth, and the sky above a surreal off-blue hue. His rod was a lot better than mine, and when I remarked on this Jesus offered to trade. I accepted the offer, thinking I might catch more fish.


I'm underwater watching three colourful fish swimming by - one swims faster than the rest, almost showing off, it's colours flash in the glimmering sunlight. I watch it disappear, quick, around a rocky ledge.


The bank of the river again with Jesus. I turn to him and ask: "Jesus, how is it that one fish can swim faster than another? Aren't they all equipped the same?" And Jesus smiled sagely replying, "Yes, but God loves some creatures more than others." Shortly thereafter I felt a tug my line. Upon reeling up my catch, I was surprised to find that I had caught the fast-swimming fish. I turned to Jesus. He just shrugged.

End dream.

Tuesday, December 23, 2003

Mid Aft.

I'm lounging on the couch, sipping some Macallen, neat, and jamming on a Dm/Bm vamp when my phone rings. It's Dee R, an author friend from downtown, and she asks if I'd like to go catch a few pints at Jester's. I say I'll go her one better, and invite her back to my place - tell her I'll whip up a batch of margaritas to sweeten the deal. She accepts the invitation, and says she'll bring her new story by for my perusal. Hanging up the phone, I make a mental note that telephones seem to play a fairly major role in my dreams despite the fact (or perhaps because) I hate them.

This fragment ends here.

I have on shiny purple toenail polish which is chipped on the toes of my left foot. I'm wearing some sort of light loose-fitting clothing and hiding out in a grungy maze-like basement with a trio of unfamiliar girls. We're playing some sort of hide-and-seek game with a few unfamiliar objects. Getting bored of this, (the game is incredibly easy), I say I have a better idea. I then attempt a few knife tricks until I realize that I'm a little to drunk.

I wake up to Sydney kneading my chest.

Saturday, December 6, 2003

Haiku for today.

A watered down beer
Making circles on the bar
Rests in front of me

Tuesday, December 2, 2003

Haiku for today.

Large flakes flutter down
To stitch a quilt on the ground
In the moonlit night