Tag Archives: poetry

BOTCHED MISSION; Some spectacles seduce. If you can’t beat ’em…

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BOTCHED MISSION

Or, booty call gone bad.
It’s not funny. Nor murky.

Icy thorns of fury
Recede slower than scars.

The sustenance of pain wore off.
Frayed, aching, sopping

With venom, rage engorged,
Vein of mayhem opened.

Angel dust of adrenalin
Winging dainty arms,

Amplifying might. Charm
Offensive, to be admired only at night

Beloved as a mule,
His shame her cargo.

Serial monogamy, serial frustration.
No getting off this ride.

Flexing reserves of righteous
Muscle, she kicked ass and dragged.

Damn him, fuck spadework,
Shanghai the shower as tomb,

Victuals, body rotting,
Speculation rising

Till they found the red stench,
Cordial, self-winding businessman

In fetal position, lenses
In the washer, voyeuristic goo.

Water did not silence the apparatus
Nor launder its images

Truth as obscured
As that Judgement Day in June,

God in the guise of ex-girlfriend,
Jesus lost in five years of lynch mob.

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NATIONAL POETRY MONTH in Vancouver keeps us on our toes!

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Photo: Tabitha Montgomery

Whew! Recovering from an action packed weekend; two launches for two anthologies. My poem Appelton was featured in Alive at the Center along with other Cascadian poets from Portland, Seattle and Vancouver. It’s a farcical poem, people laughed and we all revelled in the convivial atmosphere at the Rhizome Cafe. Saturday, I read Three Blocks West of Wonderland at the launch for FORCE Field: 77 Women Poets of British Columbia at the Vancouver Public Library, followed by a party at the Railway Club, which turned out to be a fantastic gathering of the tribe.

Well, it is National Poetry Month. I will be doing another reading for FORCE Field on the 26th at the Shadbolt Centre for the Arts in Burnaby. Couch surfing is a little rough but it does provide a wonderful opportunity to visit, something I rarely have time to do when I cross the moat (Howe Sound) and go into Vancouver with a long list of errands, meetings, appointments.

TERMINAL LABOUR . . . a dirty job but somebody’s got to do it.

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TERMINAL LABOUR

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Murderous pipe

Snaking though mountains

Rips the century in two.

Calamity stitches, salt

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Rituals, mollifying dances

Distract hippie protesters.

Ransack a few days off.

Sour fists, sweet mouths,

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Boner in the rain.

He recalls her glass tears,

Tongue of flint

Silent in the station

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Shrewd in the bar.

Dunce fat depleted,

Husk nearly ready

For the casket,

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He works with her

To remove obstructions,

Excavate a trench,

Contour the land.

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WET RECOVERY…despite everything

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WET RECOVERY

Mangled post tequila,

Estrangement narcotic,

Longing, withdrawal.

Up from the basement

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Pretty feet restored

I propel myself

With nothing

But will, grateful for the veil

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Of mist, piano notes

Icy raindrops pelting

What’s left

Post hacking

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Into,

Hacking away.

Hmph.

He’s not the only martyr

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Dragging me down,

Blowing me up.

I will sleep with the river,

Esoteric toads,

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A harridan

Sharper than thistle,

Embraced.

Sheltered. Cleansed.

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FATAL INTERRUPTION-the work of forgetting

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FATAL INTERRUPTION

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Pond forsook, shed tippled,

I dodge gusto, the jolly,

Adroitly avoiding east, his

Brilliant mean declarations,

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Confabulations,

Sorry offensives,

Our fractured liaison.

The work of forgetting

Stresses, ER expedition

Lacerating Saturday night.

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Belligerent patients triaged;

Cosmo shill car crash,

Severed digit,

Cocaine addled troll.

My heart is quitting!

Erection won’t.

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Happy to see me.

Stiff you.

X rays, blood work

Revealing nothing

But our deficits.

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“SINGLE-HANDED” and other passages

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SINGLE-HANDED

Strays.

Yard rats we

Shared a railroad,

A yearning for

Burning corn,

A penchant for

Leaving one another

The dead

Of night. Tied

To the tracks.

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Creosote smeared legs

Stand in a deep cove

Now, manning my boat.

Trip charted,

Lovers never quit

Beckoning, inserting

Keys, truncating

My swagger,

Saving me

From this lonely perch,

This vast wave.

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“HOOD POINT”-and Happy New Year!

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HOOD POINT

Dec. 31, 2012

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Lost in stars

Brave as ash

Wrestling shadows,

Giddy with night,

I lure water taxis

To shore.

Light the oven,

Salt the path

So I may reach you

Cliffside,

Burnish your gleam.

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Eagle’s nest hums,

Voices fuse.

Nearly content,

Neural bridges manifest.

Last night, last supper.

Blue heron spotting,

Tossing binoculars,

Whooping,

Over.

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Lashings, lamb bones,

Bent finger

Pointing,

Steam building, hot

Boxing, fur ball

Hangovers, bellicose

Stroking, novel

Teasing, done.

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News wrapped as fish,

Jesus hair obscures horns,

Sunny fog-ferries, flight

From one another

Post twelve days

Balancing hurt percentages.

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Out with old, year

Of dreary brinkmanship, no end

To the apocalypse jokes,

Lucky 13 new affirmation.

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FLESH POT

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“O, That this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew.”-Hamlet, Shakespeare

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FLESH POT

Born muscle bound

Backboned, map, matrix-

Mother intact,

Into private security firms-

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Families, in slums, manors,

Stables, institutions,

To pirates or the pious,

We flourish. Raw teeth, germs,

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Clubfeet do not impede us,

Rank and garbled speech fleeting

As tin jeeps, Barbie Doll drama.

Our struggle is tidy, tumult banal,

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Pain prosaic, strife fueling ripeness,

Gauntlets passed through swiftly

Until the day we drop. Nominated,

Cornered, required to wither

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Under the gun,

Succumb, for we remain

That tender, precious human

Flesh terminators must aim for.

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ABBREVIATED GUTS-new poem

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ABBREVIATED GUTS

Sun dogs melt,

Tuna tins expire,

Honey bees purge,

Headless sea lions wash up,

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Bloat. Drowning hydrangea.

Retreating squirrels.

Vacant towering fir

Hush the songbirds

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With gusts. Ravens squawk.

Telecom tricksters call

And call. And call.

Carbon copied dread

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Routed to the periphery,

Mt Galiano a distant lump,

Inviolate taint in the mainstream.

Traveling vast distances

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My blood will recede.

Limbs tread water,

Garnering muscle,

Mustering will.

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Cranking tunes, I summon

reason, a dollop of pomp,

A glut of valor.

Geronimo!

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