2 list, List! O ghost!







 followed quickly by the worst critics but are not all critics worst? worst stockings blue stockings 
   blue pencillers bookstore sellers pilloried printes and publishers? roaring overweigh crickets
     poucning on each term and blessing of a  poet's comma a doma of dooma? which word
           is the rite word? the wurd bird? the burde word accent on the open outside A?
         Ay? or is it Aye? hay?
            im don with your coveting coeval covering cherub Mista boombumBloomMrs Theory Madame cricket an Mista Frye
                   bye bye  bye bye bye bye bi by by goodbye goodbye






_______

a list, listing


.





 A listing of Canada's worst poets  ...


 A listing of Canada's worst poets  ...



 A listing of Canada's worst poets  ...


 A listing of Canada's worst poets  ...

      
 & most negligent  libraries 
digital dummmies n jerks 
losing sight of their priority
    confusing the shadow for the substance
___
“Without you”

Where can I be without you
The familiar bits echo phoney
Little me lost inside
Dragged along, an old shoe,
Wondering if we’ll meet again
Then I forget you’re absence
And remember your laughter
My heart floats in the sky above
I sing songs of the once upon joy
Till I’m in that timeless place
Floating up through the clouds above.
HARD TIMES

Once a flapper did a dance with the law
Had a lover in the business of booze
She dances and sings jazz bird dreams
Oh my
Smuggler's gun shots led to the hangman's noose

The hemp rope dance made her swoon to the floor
Brought him, as he saved her from anything more,
Down, as the gavel pounded the verdict, she fell
He crashed with her in shock, down pell-mell.

The dream of living where the spirit is free
He said go live it all forget about me
The trap door dropped for the desperado
Cause no mouthpiece would work for free

Poor men must from the scaffold dangle 
Guilty pockets are empty, innocently,
The man with the gavel works for a fee
For nothing but the spirit can be free.

She does the tango and the Charleston
Drinks the cure for bar room lovers
And winds up on her knees, alone
Where demon rum cures her hangovers.
Flapper Frolics

He’s my sheik,
Making off with my heart,
A rebel but for me a sheik
I mean he strolled into my shade,
At the orphanage, the bar and grill,
The hotel, my heart soothed

By the slick music he played
On the ivory keys he swung me
I mean the chandelier could
I mean could not compete
No feat as when he swung me.

Ah he’s my sheik, a rebel
Making off with my heart,
Into life and out again Oh my,
Oh my, he wooed me on ivory keys
And left me with a taste for sad songs
I drink longing to hear
Those songs of happy days.
        “Guilty”

Up against the machine with flesh and bone
Under the boot heels of time and grind,
One wrong choice and the domino effect
Once born the soul yearns as the plant grows

As the hound races after the hare
Up against the machine flesh and bone
Under the boot heels of armies,
The dominoes fall unaffected by choice,

Dice thrown in my way in your way.
Not me! Says the  tyrant or the leader
I am free to cast your liberty
Under the boot heels of time 
Oh woe betides the little child and other
Innocents, as the judge pounds his gavel
We are one with the suffering of men.
Get Outta Here

No choice but to get outta here
Sell the packard for dough to go,
Take a fast train to Chicago
Transfer trains to Kansas City

Take a fast train outta here
To sing our songs in other parts
Where cash won’t grow on trees
Sell the car so they can’t trace us

Clickety clack’s the beat
The fast train keeps
Show time in the bar car
Dinner in the saloon
Feeling safe in our berth
Clickety clack’s that beat
A train keeps on the get go.


We’ll be like any other couple
We’ll be together on the go
Backing each other against all trouble
Take a fast train, change the show.

Clickety clack’s the beat
The fast train keeps
Show time in the bar car
Dinner in the saloon
Feeling safe in our berth
Clickety clack’s that beat
A train keeps on the get go.

We’ll be like any other couple
We’ll be together on the go
Backing each other against all trouble
Take a fast train, change the show.

              Curly Jones 

Curly wore a smock behind the fence wire grill
The bottles of half full bottles of beer
Crash on the grill and she smell like suds
After a shift at the bar and grill
False teeth or the real things float
In the bucket of blood, gold fillings
After a fall or a fight sink to the bottom,
There’s  drunk and there’s drunker
The fights are maudlin, the bouncer
Separates the wheat from the chaff
Curly wore wooden shoes on the night
When a bear bottle crashed on the grill
Snuffed out her half smoked dincher
She threw them at two likely fourflushers
And scampered back behind the bar
Lo and behold they boomeranged back
Passing  her mug on a pond of beer suds,
Floating with lit candles inside
A smile and compliment to her candor.
             JAZZ BIRD

Oh the tree tops nearly touch
The westward scudding clouds
Flocking birds shelter and sing
Sharing in sweet song,
Thoughts of the day

Joyfully ‘neath the moon
Oh the button bright moon
On the blue black sky
Just an electron racing round
Our Positive, negative and neutrally charged
Protonic world, just like the atom
Swirlin to form the galaxy flower

Oh woe is me how to be free
Like my fine feathered friends
To dance happily in the breeze
Singing jazz bird melodies
Underneath the cloud drawn sky.

            The Decoy

A shell game begs the switch
A distracting slight of hand
The con man’s game of sham
“Why you dancing” says the copper
Hah, ‘cause you want us, man
Want us all to have cold feet
But I dance for fun to switch
Shoot the line, when I must
It’s part of the game of trust
The smuggling dollar’s the topper
You need to know when to run
When to play and when to
Distract.  The game’s a foot,

 “You can’t win less you bet”
That’s the pitch, oh bother
Some buy, they can’t resist
Mostly, it’s their meaning in life
Some don’t buy the con,
Even that is their meaning, oh bother
Cause you can’t quit the game
They say it’s fixed
You draw them in,
Blow them off
Along with the others
Then it’s the waiting game
When I dance
Even though
My feet are not cold
Dancing between certainty
And chance
Waiting for the fish
Pitching, looting
Mostly the dance
It’s where we live
Between eternities
"On election day flappers came round
Victorian ladies threw in the towel
And together we made men stand down,
Look out for the new gal in town?
She's a woman with spunk in her fizz
Watch her sashay, the hard boil banter
Champagne glass in hand, eye flirting,
Rubbing shoulders with our betters
They don't marry so don't come round
Unless you're up for fun and sound
Of kick heel dancing, oh jazz bird heart
We're equal now and dress the part,
Our pleasure is deciding how to be
You see it's not floozy to be free
Taking the arm of whomever we please
So hike your skirts, roll the hosiery down
We create style, dance bare knees
Bob our hair and loosen our gowns,
Burn corsets, wear our crowns
Strut and swing hips, come down
And dance to the count of one two three
Come on, do the panty kick with me."
( This poem was recited like a rap at the outset of the play "On The Line"

Epic drama of weather





Sunsets like this one turn into imaginary landscapes that inspire hopes and aspirations, says author Christopher Dewdney. (Joonas Lyytinen Creative Commons Attribution 2.0)



If you shrunk the Earth to the size of a basketball, then our atmosphere would be equivalent to two layers of food wrap on the outside. 
With that in mind, it is very common to hear those fortunate few who have had the opportunity to look back on our planet from space, comment on both the beauty and the fragility of Earth. The beauty comes from seeing oceans and continents in their entirety; the fragility comes from seeing just how narrow that blue ring of atmosphere around the planet really is.
Yet within this thin band is where it all happens. It's where much of our planet's life exists, but it's also the most dynamic part of our planet, thanks to the weather.


ECW Press, Toronto, Canada
In his new book 18 Miles - The Epic Drama of Our Atmosphere and Its Weather, poet, author and teacher Christopher Dewdney takes us on a journey - often personal - from the unlikely birth of our atmosphere to the impact we have on it today - and all the wind and rain and storms in between.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
Bob McDonald: Everyone talks about the weather, nobody does anything about it, but very few people write books about it. Why did you do it?
Christopher Dewdney: Well there's two reasons. First of all I've always been fascinated by weather. Ever since I was a kid in fact.  I detail in the book my first weather station and putting an anemometer and wind vane on top of my parents house; and getting my first instruments when I was 11 and trying to duplicate or at least second guess the forecasters of that evening. I was also totally fascinated as young boys often are by storms and tornadoes and those those kinds of things, violent weather. As I grew older and became a writer I realized there weren't any books, it seemed, about whether. There's lots of books about climate and lots of books that specialize in certain aspects of the atmosphere but no sort of general book about weather so I thought I'd address that with this book.
Bob McDonald: Well why do you feel that our atmosphere and its weather is an 'epic drama'.
Christopher Dewdney: My own experience with it. In Hurricane Katrina, I was inside the storm actually twice. Once in the Bahamas and then in Toronto when it has just had decelerated to a tropical low. I mean weather is something that's terrifying and capricious and sometimes very unexpected no matter what we forecast. And so it is very dramatic. It's a theatre really, I sort of look at the atmosphere as a theater in which these amazing dramas unfold.
Bob McDonald: Now just to clarify the title of your book '18 Miles' what are you referring to there?
Christopher Dewdney: Well basically ninety nine percent of the atmosphere lies within 18 miles of the surface. So it's not an arbitrary limit really. Primarily that's most of the atmosphere. So it gives it a very defined value, but also 18 miles, I find, is  surprisingly close to the surface.
Bob McDonald: We often think of weather events historically as bad events terrible things happen in wars or whatever. But you talk about a relatively good event that happened in 1967 the Summer of Love.
Christopher Dewdney: That's right. Well that was an interesting summer because a series of high pressure areas parked themselves during the summer over California in the early part of that summer, in May and June. They had unusually warm weather which is the very time the first love-ins and the Monterey Pop Festival was held,  which changed really the history of pop culture at that time. And then that 'summer of love' there was just an amazing temperature in which the outdoors kind of became a living room for the hippies that were hitchhiking all across North America and through Europe and England at the time. England had a very unusually warm August. So the weather had an incredibly supportive effect on a revolution I guess, a cultural revolution that might not have had such gravity or such size, so many people taking part in it, if it hadn't been so supportive.
Bob McDonald: You said at the beginning you were terrifically interested in weather. Does it still capture your imagination?
Christopher Dewdney: Chimpanzees apparently will gather in an evening to look at sunsets, and this has been seen by primatologists. It is something that all creatures share I think, well at least primates and we certainly do. And sunsets I think have extraordinary vistas and they turn into these imaginary landscapes. I think that a lot of our imaginings, a lot of our aspirations and a lot of our hopes are projected onto cloud landscapes and horizons and sunsets and the colours and the fantastic landscapes we see there.

as If,


As if

_______


   As if my poems were in your mouth
            like a sandwich we made
       

                   if the water wine
                            and your hips were songs

                                                    
                      How could I forget the love we made   
                                  asking how you could forget 


____________


  Short poems and Chapped Lips


(in the night a refrain for a song: 'in the night/ the night
                                                        your hips were   songs )




_______

it all happens to make your head happy

(Lights frame my head.)
You could look down, you could see it, but only from high up: it looked like
God was angry at something.
What moves us forward, what moves.
You say, “We use telescopes for prophecy. People are scared of how things’ll
turn out.” So they don’t want to look, you tell me.
Now what can I do.
They sit around and don’t talk, just throw curses down the lightshaft to Hell.
I’m so glad I found you.
Is there somewhere we can talk? My feet are tired. Someone’s been following
me all day.
I’m so glad I found you.
They were fixing to strike him dead, so he waited around all afternoon. But
still had his own head. Later, when he got into the Masonic Lodge, he said, “This is
a good thing.”
“Your body knows what it needs,” said the doctor. “Little failures.” He shows
me out, sends me down the hall to Accounts Payable.
You come to a team like this where every day, we’re going out to win.
Engendered endangered, outmanned manifold, bearded.
“You only eat thoughts in the house.”
My distribution system’s tongue is frozen to a metal pole.
Now what can I do to get? Nothing like styles.
“I wrote it in my mind” and the ink froze on paper.
I don’t have no control the red banded snake held in my palms, clapping its
jaws together, buds snapped pollen falls out to the wood floor I don’t have no
control.
I’m not looking for the joke I’m looking for the sequence.
I stack the spice boxes deliberately in patterns that’ll indicate their
importance to my family’s local cuisine, truly their own.
He Laughs at Ancient Comedy My Greek teacher in California used to say
that anyone who laughs at a piece of ancient comedy must be nuts— there’s nothing
funny in it.
“Satisfy my wishbone.” He prophesies.
“Give me something to eat.” Prophecy is a full head.
Prophecy is a noisy stomach.
Prophecy prophecy.
“it all happens for a reason” I don’t believe that, I truly don’t think it all
happens for a reason.
but it does, there’s still some chain of rational progression tied to my ankle
under the pants leg, when I walk down the street by the elm stump, the tree that
used to rise up in front of our house; when I drive to impossible work each
morning—it all happens for a reason.
but no one ever knows what or how they can profit by it.

Victoria,


________

    Dear Victoria, my sweet old end of the continent city visiting with you and Patrick(the crazy author) ,  Glenn and Veronica. and that's the lake where I lost my glasses,

             & found them after diving in the lake to get them found them,



     why this side of  it, makes me think of East Broadway and the sloop down there in Vancouver,

        not far from Commerical Drive,


                                     where i lived for 10 yrs  wondering what happened to the future

                                           it was there with the crazy we that we got rid of the commas the periods

                                                   the breaths




                      

         

new product for this season

Zombie vomit – have you heard of this thing, zombie vomit? – you’re really missing out, it’s great – you can put it between your toes and it makes this gooey, icky, squishy sound. Or run it into your hair – the color won’t wash out, you have to -cut- it out. Really good for changing your look, showing up at a party or club where you want to be -noticed-. 

blog as'

_________________________



      blog as live studio performance '

      it's how you started after years'
     
          of live performance the raw'
           material of smelly stages '
              & gew gawed gapes'


     and now we're still working'
        out this live studio
           performance thing'

            it's fun and we got a lot '
               more work done or  a
                 let's say a different kinda '
                     work than wouldve been
                wrought the other way '



____________________

each fOem is a gif __________________________ gif gif,

__________________








 each ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif each ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif each ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a   each ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  


 each ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif each ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif each ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a   each ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif


 each h ppppaaappeeppoeeema gif ppppaaappeeppoe ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif h ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif h ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif ppppaaappeeppoe
Ya gif ppppaaappeeppoe ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif h ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif h ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif ppppaaappeeppoe
each fooem is a gfi offour afmour afoure
is  a gif ppppaaappeeppoe is  a  each ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif
h ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif ppppaaappeeppoe ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif h ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif h ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif ppppaaappeeppoe
h ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif ppppaaappeeppoe
h ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif ppppaaappeeppoe








a gif ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif  each h ppppaaappeeppoeeem h ppppaaappeeppoeeem is a gif ppppaaappeeppoe is  a gif ppppaaappeeppoe is  a  each ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif h ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif ppppaaappeeppoe ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif h ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif h ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif ppppaaappeeppoe h ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif ppppaaappeeppoe h ppppaaappeeppoeeem is  a gif ppppaaappeeppoe _





____

Had someone ..

_________________________________________________________



Someone had ..







 Someone had a 'dream' calling 'other, in
the words of the song, 

lovers kissing the wild night

struggling 


with love bodies mating and mending its hungry body,





___________________________________________________

your lifetime customer value



the grit and pause 
over and it crescents
the thunderbelly 

peel off at a sting
the rant of call me 
FOMO looking thru

others’ eyes and that
drug is what sells
your identifying data

what I name

that's what i name

 ________


 thats what I call smudged text! '      (not serious!!)
  thats what I call smudged text! '      (not serious!!)
 thats what I call smudged text! '      (not serious!!)
 thats what I call smudged text! '      (not serious!!)


 thats what I call smudged text! '      (not serious!!)
  thats what I call smudged text! '      (not serious!!)
 thats what I call smudged text! '      (not serious!!)
 thats what I call smudged text! '      (not serious!!)




 thats what I call smudged text! '      (not serious!!)
  thats what I call smudged text! '      (not serious!!)
 thats what I call smudged text! '      (not serious!!)
 thats what I call smudged text! '      (not serious!!)

Baptism

Baptism

acrylic/canvas

road metaphor blues


My left brain’s turning over
Right brain out of gear
Run out of all my give-a-cares

Baby

And I’m forgettin’ how to steer

for there is, (untitled)

or and of there and now and

________________________






standing between the virtual/the printed/the written and spoken/that's the life of a poet these day/s





between the virtual/;the printed/the written and spoken/that's the life of a aristoet these day/standing standing 



between the virtual/the printed/the written and spoken/that's the life of a aristoet these day/standing 
standing between the virtual/the printed/the written and these day/s


_________standing between the virtual/the printed/the of a persoet these day/s
standing


between the virtual/the day/s




standing betn the virtual/trinted/titten and sn/that's the life of a poet these day/s

between the virtual/the aristoet these day/standing standing  written and spoken/that's the life of a hese day/s

sanding

 printeaken/that's the life of a aristoet these spoken/that's the life of a poet these s





between the between the virtual/the printed/the written and spoken/that's the life virtual/;the printed/the written and spoken/that's the life of a printed/the written and spoken/that's the life of a aristoet these virtual/the printed/the written and spoken/that's the life of a poet day/standing stand________________________



nding between the standing between the virtual/the printed/the written and spoken/that's the life of a poet these day/s

_________standing between the virtual/the printed/the written and spoken/that's the life of a poet these day/s
standing

 between the virtual/the printed/the written and spoken/that's the life of a persoet these day/s
standing


between the virtual/the printed/the written and spoken/that's the life of a aristoet these day/s




standing between the virtual/the printed/the written and spoken/that's the life of a poet these day/s





between the virtual/;the printed/the written and spoken/that's the life of a aristoet these day/standing standing 





me, I enjamb all the time


Something takes its toll
And some have no ear at all . . .

Stoned Aurelian
            At the wall
Looking after
            All the hidden
Associations,
            Abreast of the last
Declaration
            . . . .

It’s not what you say, it’s the way that you say it.

Spreading your wings
From the lightposts
Of Excelsior
            To the hidden paths
            Of Oom

(“Don’t tell me this is the shortcut!”)


All these paths are barren
Except one.
And I alone can tell you
Which shall bring forth life . . .

Tattoos until you make no sense.

time to re-OpEn this mAchine ________||||||||||||||||||||||||||________ Open that thing

________________

 ______________________


___________________
________________
________________

 ______________________

___________________ ______________________
________________
 ______________________

______________________________________ ______________________

________________
 ______________________

___________________ ______________________

________________
 ______________________
________________
 ______________________

______________________________________

switched at birth

fields of reincarnation
chaotic attractors
created
this
predestined random
switch at birth


switched at birth

I'd Rather Sink Than Swim

_________



She laid silently under the dark purple sky. The grass beneath her whispered secrets as the wind swept by, begging her to stay just a while longer. She breathed shallow as the world wept, caressing her face, gently flowing through the strands of her hair. Her teeth chattered lightly as her warm tears mixed with the cool rain. The beauty that poured from above left her in awe; kissing each droplet that hit her lips. She looked around observing the stone graves, each so strong, holding ghosts that made goose bumps run along her skin. The trees groaned as the wind turned to evil shadows striking everything it crossed. It blew her hair furiously in all directions. The sky light to a sparkling blue, shocking the whole world with a fluorescent white, almost blinding. As the glow washed over the trees and the graves, it made eerie black flames dance in the grass. Soon this storm would pass and all the beauty would slowly die. Until then she would wallow in it, breathing in the life bursting through the night sky, crying her pain, sharing the sadness with the benevolent beauty that lay above her.


_______
Print Another Madness

My muse returned just in time as my bile rose again. It came back with a vengeance. I could hardly hold my tongue.

In the land of a thousand rivers a man was gunned down between rocks and greed.

Then they slew him again on vapid front pages of necrotic newspapers.

whatnots

____



so easy
to
lose myself
and
find myself
through
stubborn patterns.




___

Writing meeting



Rack and rose. Space-time esophagus. Break the answers. Span the discomfort.

Make my French toast crazy. Spread the nonsense. An empire of writers. “I wasn’t interested.”

Clay bursts, Broca’s television channel. Power shunts, what shunt does all the time.

“Oh, no! Not yes!” The tragedy of owning Thursday nights. Dirty rose secret.

The Journey to Yes. Be great at what you don’t do. Spike that cliché at the end goal.

Outrovert. “Where do you play?” Safety in bludgeoning. A day late to my obituary.

there's a pantomime


flip the await the
able break coral
schiene chiome
gride it anonymously
dure dure voglio
machined violins

archaism आश्रम
Polish brother hobbit
creased matzoh in
house to house
killing there’s the
past coming back to

sacrifice the gat
specious c’è un guitto
(so I can remember.
how to spell it.)
you have bridges,
you have organs—

coherence makes you
listen in the night.
passing out at tea
time you got apnea,
kid. the mild and the
moderate, mold takes

her consciousness
in the dark and brings
her to the moon.
socks around the neck,
you heard me. and you
might get a glass

out of it when you land

(Passover 2018)

The Sound and the Fury



The Sound and the Fury
digital photo

I said to Flarius

_________________

 

 


I  said to Flarius the poet that life is short
        Possibly shorter than a  boat  
__
   But what obstinate jewels kept the Empire in 
_____
  Frogged by your eyes  I am dog to the night
Mona's sheet has many bottoms
 but mostly her round as a moon
    one's the one you rue  
_____
------------


I once played Trumpet wth Flavius while he accompanied me on radio


    we were doing a recording   (cassette recorder or reel to reel )


Of
Femmes   a Barbe.... 




Forthrop my good frienwsas runnign wheels in  the back... trum and rum an humm! hummm!




___________



Forthrop was loose with Dististopher ? was that his name the man with the Jeanne Mance apartment in his house, a broken record instead,  a dope riddle brain not working much anymore these days nor those before.
but white hair flowing and a  cane one saw the once brilliant intellect sliding down his profile




__________
_____________

ANyhow ,NnONOoeticradition. more lik I see myself as part of a culturalENSEmBles esemb

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