Layers on Layers

The river was filthy, but not to look at.
The folks from the Avenues repose.
I recall a ime when a large outdoor stadium stood
beside the hockey rink. I remain enthrawled.

It was my stride that came to the door.
There had been many steps, many mis-steps
taken on this path towards edification.
I need not dwell on the facts,
that would be too retain some stasis.
I rejoice at the recall of some phantom.

We traveled the Avenues to play sports with the locals.
There was life in the Wellington street hoards ,
everything comes from metres away.
There was less room to ruminate on one's
particular sense of life's futiliites.

So there I was with Dr O'Dadaio.
He walked with me through the mists of the river.
I was happy to walk and listen
for another flow of words.

Tintinnitis Seminar

fusillade of complicated peeves
so weary, Sator rotas in the sky

blink away cobwebs; my pen explodes
bobble, talk, walk, or light up

the fear of God · manumits
fuidhir · take back the ecliptic

granite verdict · drastic fulfillment


The next morning
Nearly six into another day
Slips through the veil
Another sun blisters
The unspoken curtains
Of stormy colored sky.


microwave nightfall · lobworm dangled
haplodiplomat · hulb
ongoing disgruntlement
pumps quarry · tawny wind
across factor slurry
in the wake of the rubble
to grapple · stodgy climb

blunt lanai · hurricane lees
and these contested leets

where storm and whirling harm
least hary


One fine Day
Everything looks and feels the same
As anything else
And I lose myself
In the sameness
Of this vaccum
Called Now.

foot to the floor

A livable death at last
james dickey

like the sub-sahara ma soif as rimbe had said
was intense

at night was shaking & sweats as if a temblor
developing in

the center of the brainpan & the blood became
a tsunami

of dried electricity irradiated the salts into
snakeskins of nerves

i don't believe the news feeds

imagine if an alien solar system
trained their

own SETI & got us on the bitch
& moan

about who where & what

that salts dried in my body where i could taste
the electrical storm

of my flattened nerves
i had

this memory of me driving thru the sub-sahara
like speed racer

my foot was on the floor

driving no i was along for the ride
but it was

just me in the thing
moving fast

no terror no wreck no cry
my woman

watching on tv like i was
racing indeed

& my foot on the floor
ma soif

increases each night like it was asking for a coin
for the ferryman

charon laughing loud as i took not his boat
but his car

salts burned my eyes & i could hear
the crack of charon's

oar like in that novel by celine
as he watched

our news feeds on tv during my

'at all

huge dingy basement
line not moving at all
black, brown, redneck, hippie
recipients of the petty
attentions of les flics

good stream of revenue though
and i can't see the streets getting much
probably there's a new stadium
needs to blossom soon
with plush stadium boxes

for those
who never cringe at lights flashing


Milk Thistle

a child digs for memories
beneath the gorse black earth

under a foal of bone
a skull appears

cauled in sweetbriar
and milk thistle

the child digs deeper
below the shovel line

his granddad’s voice
summoning him home

The Lovers

your hands dip low and steady
the sun washes the walls a warm red
my lips part and the breath that is released,
merely a soft whisper on your neck.
we expand and contract,
moving recklessly,
but with cause
your spine winks at me through your flesh
the very flesh I pierce with dull nails--
rake over shoulder blades,
hip bones,
down your shins.
air sucked through clenched teeth
"Love" you whisper huskily
and I answer, "is at it's end."

brim 4