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#montreal
From Biloxi white shirt Mississippi cigar Smoke had led to West Coast To Pacific Coast Mountains They had tracked me as prey As the northern cougars Ain’t vampire, thank God Neither light in the fountains That was time I, in deed Meditated between Between living in need And minimal luxury‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ After island, Vancouver I moved north to Vermont Talked with posters and walls Living on nineteenth floor Then I glanced outside – Letter S, not for snake Even though, serpent’s bitten I just knew it was name Great red letter as sign So, I took as mine ‘Cause from day to a day I had prayed for the guide Thus, from window I saw – Letter S – Solomon Then the past I recalled And the streets I came from And the view… It was just Holosijiv Yes, for window I saw – Letter S – Solomon Then the past I recalled And I put my heart home I just need myself clean Before go back to Kyiv From that window I saw – Letter S – Solomon Give me answers, my soul Do I need Royal Mont? I need all of them clear Heart, mind, soul – all sincere
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Nov 7, 2025
Nov 7, 2025 at 5:00 PM UTC
Letter S
I was on the plateau when it happen. I always hated going under it in the middle of the day. It felt like a mirror; a reflected isomer — too still and too sad to be near. Shadows give that same feeling, but with blurred corners feeling slightly farther away. I prefer going under the bridge at night. Cooler, like sunglasses that you don’t have to put on. The night as a way of saying, “It’s not up to you what you get to see now. I decide what’s important for you. Which is absolutely nothing”.
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May 6, 2019
May 6, 2019 at 1:35 PM UTC
The Night & The Bridge
I miss you. Here at the foot of Mount Royal (really only a hill), which I climbed this morning, I miss you. I ask what's real. In this clamour of work, of French and English ... It's your touch that's real, your eyes looking-at-me-with-love, your lips. Here in Montreal, at the foot of Mount Royal, I miss you.
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Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 8:58 PM UTC
I Miss You
the sun sets to the west over Mont Royal like the sun sets to the west over the Hudson Bay and you run to catch it as if it were the last one and you think time passes while you're away but everything is on standby even the rotation of the earth waiting for you
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Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 11:27 AM UTC
the sun still sets while you’re away
C old & cool A iry & abuzz N atural & noble A ppetizing & appealing D angerous & dandy A muck & AWESOME
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Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 7:46 AM UTC
Canada
when she fell, not moon, nor wind responded 'an abysmal fall, indeed, ' was the carnal cry in the woods 'he who shelters such a wand will surely be understood' and the words fell like lightning, one sunless morning of half-regret— which quickly turned into a noon of wonder ~ ..circa 2003..©2003/2017 Spiros Zafiris ..channeled; spirit Ram ~
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Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 9:01 PM UTC
The Moments
This cruel winter wind Is like a thousand daggers Piercing through my skin
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Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 10:19 AM UTC
Winter In Montreal
blur of rock, snow, trees I drift in and out of reality dream of swimming alone at night, the sweet danger your hand on my leg this highway becomes endless motion reach into the grey night beg a cigarette off the gypsy woman desperate addictions will destroy me one day, nothing left to do but wait for the next stop watch your breath form halos of precious air on the window misty and cool                 hey, beautiful stranger could I rescue you from sleep, your hand on my leg feels like nothing else but it won't last the driver speaks to me of wandering souls in a few hours he promises we'll be somewhere
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Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
On The Bus To Montreal