blowing kisses to your tattered soul
and hoping that you will be
o k a y

always always always
thinking about you
and nobody else

the freckles on your rosy cheeks
and the curve of your lips
and the way your eyes light up

the way you stick out your lower lip
and try so hard to hold yourself together
when you're falling apart at the seams

you will be okay one day
beautiful girl
I promise (and I don't break promises)

Gertrude, Stradbrook, River and Roslyn,
off of McMillan, my thoughts froze on Osborne
A drive through the Village on slippery streets
Bought records, drained pints
                        swallowed down summer nights
Back home in Wyoming--think I'll be fine
                         'til some night, filled to gills
                          trip through streets with a stranger
                          and sing "One Great City"
                          through swollen closed throat

And I remember...

Confusion Corner, commuting through cold streets
Watched you drive as the daylight died
I narrow my Focus,
                                     you eased into traffic
The Assiniboine ran and was watched by Riel

January.
Johnson's Terminal.
London Fogs.
Took Yellow Dogs for long walks
and Exchanged now for then. Snapped pictures, again and again.

Snow up to my hips
Spent a night at St. Boniface
We cased a cathedral, your friends seemed to like me.

Lines ran from reserves, over oceans and borders.
Your hair ran down shoulders, brown waves for a blanket.

Winterpeg, Manitscoldout
Portage & Main
Shivering, smiling
at a Tavern Uniting with friends,
'til we took the King's Head...
We took the King's Head.
Long live the king.

January.
Magic Thailand.
Curry soup, curried thoughts thawing,
melting, falling from pickled brains,
                      through lips chapping

Form a Perimeter
Frame a city
Bullseye, center, a Gold gilded Boy
he leans into sky, as they sing, as I hear.
The road North Ended--November, it was.
I think, one year prior, in Robin's Donuts
on hinges that sighed metallic,
I caught your eyes--organic, unplanned--
               through fog frosting lenses
Caught them, held on
               Held your deep brown
               In my gunmetal blue

Seasons will chase--haste to follow more seasons
White streaks to green
and the Red River runs.
When they score at the ballpark,
"Go Goldeyes!" the cheer sounds
Cheer. Cheer!
The Guess Who still suck,
but the Jets completed their round trip
"Go, Jets, go!" so the cheer goes.
"Cheers!" Cheers like bells.
             Bells
           Pealing
Peeling like your sunburnt back
            Bells
          Ringing
           Striking
Bells singing long
Bells sounding loudly from Grace Bible Church
  baptizing Baltimore as it kisses Osborne

Bells ringing. Round sounds.
Round rings for fingertips touching
Bells
Round sounds that hang on my neck
and sing me to sleep every night--
remind me how badly you wanted those bells
                I denied you.

They sing "Left and Leaving"
             and show me old scars
          they ring and peal and strike
                         and sing
                         unending.

I remember April of 2008
Dropping my toque in the mud-and-slush street
            We took Pembina Highway
              Ate Vietnamese.

I remember...

Confusion Corner,
Commuting through cold streets,
Watching you drive as the daylight died
In your blue '02 Focus
Ease us back into traffic,
The Assiniboine River.
And Louis Riel.

So tell me...

Comment-allez vous, ce soir?
Je ne suis pas comme ci, comme ça.

You taste of cigarettes,
it disgusts me to no end.
But still I come back for more.
I can’t help but crave your poison.
I’ve grown addicted
and accustomed to your influences.

Your kisses send me into frenzies.
Each time
I am filled with
self hatred,
loathing,
and pity.

I hope that one day I will be able to escape
from your constricting hold.
But for now
I will stay content,
just within the reaches of the dangers
playing around with you brings.

You were swaying like a gypsy,
lost in her own trance.
Never have I seen someone move with the beat.
How beautiful indeed!

They say that if you give it all,
You will get the lovely prize.
I showed you how much I care,
Eagerly, I opened my chest and offered my heart.

But then you said, "I'm not the star that you think,
but rather the lonely sky dreaming no more;
For love means someone falling,
and I'm afraid of heights."

How stupid I felt for holding nothing back!
Maybe it was all lies, her smiles and kisses.
She is gone, perhaps dancing with another man.
She left me dolour and hollow.

How Serious should be for this Wonder at
The very some Point locked kisses to the Wall
Whilst these Incarnations modelled Months that
Must never Surprise your Mum's Eye to befall
Why bother? If with Pheromones invite
White Hags and Chicken-Hawks apart from Dames
Should you most Expect to be Drawn in-spite
Your Needed Economy must Split these Pains
Fair you'll accept then our own Business be
Then Hammer these Virtues misinterpret
To Orgasms bleed as Dodgy Stones flee
Even by Distance un-mind to beget.
Just my Point. To which all such Points deranged
Your Judgment approved; And Verdicts arraigned.

Perhaps to Study those Articles then
Were Fruitful Reports supporting Caution
Of how Desperate were those Young Stars when
Obliged to offer their Lambs by Option
Of course, prefer they be Denied the Wave
Where Promises would make them Lords fulfilled
Hearts and Kisses do Stud; Yet none to Save
Their Most Precious Cloth for True Love's Distilled
These same Reports, if Advertised in Wear
Wonders how the more your Un-Wrapped Skin draft
Like Home-Grown Meat; Thrown for Rabid Dogs tear
And Profits these D---N Moguls live by Fact.
That your Sacrifice - Smiled - for Warm Heart's Win
Opened your Gates for Gold; But Stained in Sin.

Tourist, who gave her eyes
to the fishes and the sharks.
Ingenue queen of the lingering darkness.
Tourista, chain smoking in the rain.
Perfumed winds blow from her mouth
dizzying the Phoenician sailors with longing for her shores.
And the moths circle,
searching for her cable knit heart.
And I will go back to my darling,
my darling tourista,
when you my darling are gone.
Us being strangers of the night
and enemies in hollow places.
Tourista prays to ooze juicily
at last round the bearded lips of God.
Tourista swallows sleep
and swallows deep.
Tourista lost in translation
between valley girl slang and punk rock idols.
Pushing pushing pushing, push em.
Tourista of the long white neck, neglected.
Free of love nibbles and nicotine kisses.
Though she longs for their ghosts
and strokes the scars of their cousins.
Her screaming, rolling head full of tinder and ready to ignite.
Like the loveliest of hand grenades.
Tourista who's heart swells and empties with the tides,
all Jackson Pollucked up inside.
The punch line of every joke. The object of every desire.
And tourista rattles with wheezing.
Tourista vacant. Accepting reservations.
Calling dimply she prays to the highway dogs
and hound dogs and squealing pups.
Tourista of the pure soul, sprinkling virgin lamplight
like vestal seeds.
Though she implores every living thing to dampen the flame.
Hold tight, says tourista, happiness is surely near.
But she hides it away in her bedside table and hopes she will forget.

He wields his hammer
   without mercy
bring
the
metal
d
o
w
n
time and space
    e  x  p  a  n  d  i  n  g
crushing metal to earth
         to vibration to sound

my head snaps to the left
         vibration through earth
                through atom through drum
a fire ignites...a fire BURNS...a fire smolders
nostrils flare
  apertures contract straining to focus
      heart valves pump unnaturally
         oxygen is scarce
knees weaken
and i  s
             i
               n
                  k
arms of steel
     guide my hips...
(keep breathing)
strands of gold
     brush my neck
(open your eyes)
kisses so light
  turn to a force of nature
(by the forgotten gods,
              you are beautiful)
teeth playfully snap
    eyes shine
(breathe, woman, breathe)

our neurons are mirrored
   our pheromones agree
now comply...surrender...submit

your cape is irrelevant
  the crimson does not impress me
you do not need it to take flight

your armor is useless
  i can pierce it simply
with a look from my blue eyes

what of your hammer, Thor?
it is all of what you are;
heavy with burden
  spinning and light with hope
crushing the earth with music
raised high to lead
          with a steady hand
hailing a booming storm
    light electrifying

be assured - your hammer is your own
i do not desire to take what is yours
    to smother your light
         to limit your branches

i only wish to see you grow in strength
  in beauty
       in music
            in light

and so i will wait...
for the thunder of the hammer
   crushing the ground
calling me home.