I.

Sunday mornings in Vancouver
even pigeons sleep in till 10 A.M.
Undaunted, I walk down Granville shortly before 8
seeking lox bagels with capers, red onions and cream cheese,
two breve lattes, and a newspaper. In truth,
panhandlers on the corner of Robson
have far greater chance of scoring.
An unexpectedly sunny February morn
suffices to spur me on. I am attuned to all vibration.
Breath of the awakening city
exhales manna upon the shop awnings.
Bagels rendered superfluous,
I scarf images instead ---
trolley buses, an umbrella shop, falafel stands ---
delicious Canadian visual cuisine.

                                 II.

Vancouver is a nymph. Of that I'm sure.
I hear flirtatious giggles trill
from darkened alleys between hotels.
Spotted her once across the street on Dunsmuir,
seated on a walk bench reading a Margaret Atwood novel.
Bus passed between us and she vanished.
Caught a later glimpse through the window
of a walk-up dim sum restaurant in Chinatown.
Flew the stairs, only to find an empty table and
discarded napkin smudged with candy pink lipstick.
She watches me.

                                                III.

Turns out there are no Sunday morning papers in Vancouver,
but I locate the bagels and espresso backtracking on Helmcken.
The barista smiles as I approach, sets down her Atwood novel.
I leave a Toonie in gratuity.
B.C. wind pushes ******* my turned back,
as I rush our breakfast back to the Executive.
A nymph goes roller-blading by toward False Creek.
The Gastown Steam Clock whistles that it's 10 A.M.
A flock of pigeons lifts in flight.

Flirting with my dreams, making them more real than they seem. One line at a time, take that how you like - I'm roller blading on the ceiling, while riding a six wheel bike. Biking down third avenue until I get to the store, open the second door to find a large dinosaur. His name was Tom, we had a good laugh. It came to an end when he ate Joe, the pale giraffe. With one eye open, reality just a wink away. Living in two worlds, both of which I want to stay. My dreams are coming a reality, or so it may seem. But I gotta go, Tom's chasing me.

Something of youthful cut grass
blading itself through a crisp March
as to guide crickets into breaking their backs
so that eyelids may kiss pillows in matrimony
so that the smell of the approaching summer
in its fleeting Shelby Cobra
driving so smoothly when running away
but leaking a trailed gallon of purposeful gasoline
when trying to get to the other side of culpability.

I dissipate fragment by fragment
into the dark
equating to pollen that has had its day
as satin-skinned camellias
in a swift breeze.

A tongue swollen with nectar sweat
the wind strokes its fingers through my solstice hair
drunk with humidity
enticing sleek branches
to swoon with the cadence
of sweltering heat.

Fall scents, squirrels dash,
children chatter & laugh let out from school,
wind rushing fast, cement path
rattles, speeding by...

happy memory, moments shared
a continent apart

different paths, different parks, different worlds
Merge
in those brief sections of time
two minds, two hearts
share eternal moments
through this shared experience


Remember that time
Blading in the park?

As  the  ground  beneath  your  nostrils  circles  in  escape.
Your  raging  heart  thunders  with  not  joy  but  dismay.  
Flock  of  birds  fly  the  empty  skies  with  wonder,
'Wonder  about  the  place,  wonder  of  the  place.  
Your  tired  feet  aches  and  so  you  lay.  
Your  shirt  is  stained,  
Stained  by  the  recent  darkened  day.  
Woof  woof,  they  start  to  chant.
The  saddened  rose  has  fallen  flat.
Your  troubled  shaking  hand.  
Shaken  faith  shook  to  deepest  lengths.  
'Would  rather  stop  but  fear  won't  let  you  dare.  

The  windmill  spins  with  forceful  winds,  
Drifting  monsoons  shifting  speed  and  blading  skin.  
Flashing  light  and  painful  knees,  
Horizon's  downfall  is  what  it  seems.
Darkness  clouds  your  empty  head,  
Sudden  voice  comes  to  speak.  
"Mrs  Helmer's  death  came  at  your  sleep,  
But  what  we  see  is  what  we  need"
Stab  me  in  the  eyes,  let  me  not  see  your  filthy  crimes.

We’re all born in the same place
Ourselves
And we all run the same race
To hell

Born into a world already turning
My feet start urgently burning
Before my brain begins churning
I ignore what I’m learning
For my movement yearning

Now that I’m of a reactionary fashion
It’s time for social interaction
I’m told to pick a faction
That’ll be my infallible bastion
I’ll defend with blind passion

My need to know more
Brought the conquistador
Who had the keys to my door
With no reason implored
He beat me to the floor

He comes from society
To check my propriety
Conquering through anxiety
Or straight up fighting me
Until the pain starts piling
From his constant defiling

I’ve made a million mistakes
So I don’t deserve any breaks
But all he does is take
Everything at stake
My life he shakes
To make me fake

Through the storm
He screams conform
Until my soul is torn
After I adorn
His demon horns

I adopted his impersonal sensation
So to avoid my temptations
I commit self immolation
For the hellish integration
Of society’s placation

But he keeps demanding more
He keeps demanding war
And me to be ******
Until I’m not sure
If I can be cured
Or even endure
When they obscure
The path of the pure
With their malice lure

The safety of sedating
Keeps me from hating
So life becomes waiting
Avoiding their blading
And incision trading
Which is why I’m delaying
And the conquistador is staying

I can’t wake up
After I ate up
The tryptophan
Cryptogram
Sold to man
Turning ******
On the lamb
From the sham
Of Uncle Sam

This is how it zigzags
a thousand bolts of you
rippling night glass
speaking razor blades
through humbling lips.

Following the flash

one spark

is all it takes
to make the forest
write fire.

Crackling mean,
tornadoes of flame
orange red green

caught up
in a blaze
from inside eyes

praying for pools
delivering amens
sharp sun
razor blading library lawns,

prophetic writing
trapped on a bathroom stall
craving blood from understanding eyes,

jaws opening in the ocean of her heart made swimmers fear her depths.

Truth is a ruthless wanderer
  a scar littered bolt of invincible storm living inside rooms of skin.

Watch out
when it speaks.

Razor blades swimming
through water
will cut you open
and force the bottom
to shed its colorful secrets.

You are a cool breeze in August twilight pushing off from green misted river,
that flows through all my dreams,

saving me from disconnected illusions.

Would you tell me what you've done
when I was mad at you, blinded by the fault
feeling betrayed, untrusted,
scared to die and unable
to live up my love to you?
Heart of your clockwork, but shaped like some box or a *****?

Would you tell me the truth of where you went
if I can't but to embrace you with my empty-feeling rage
imagining you leaving
whichever other betrayals you dared and so weak for a smile
you last meal I'm given at this end of my green mile?

Where are you?
What do you need?
What do you want?
Who are you?
When was the last time you weren't gone
from my life, you took my hand when I took a knife
and was missing your kiss
put into a white coat
and shackled for life
next morning you were out of sight
thanks for another eternity of spite
baby.

Left alone,you're a *******
born by a monster with a warm cove
of course I'll also **** the sole dove
you are still avoiding my words
and you're trembling
smashing yourself with pipes and bottles
planning six-hundred battles against your brain-dead cattle
and can't ask your wife for five dozen and six extra lives?

I'm dead, I'm a void,
you pray the name of Chaos
Greek word for emptiness
destroyed trust, you don't understand the pain you inflict onto me
you build your own prison but you want to be free?
Don't make me laugh 'bout your misery!
You play the fool, dream of the Empress,
but should be your own card
called Hopeless Distress
Mistress of hurt by painlessness
do you ever try to imagine what, how, why I feel?

Useless? Meaningless? You guess those issues are the source of your and my stress?
Who taught you to babble such nonsense?
What else don't we know 'bout your brain its impulses?
What my love hasn't brought?
Мy efforts for order, all you sense is what you're calling a bloated, incomprehensible mess
"Darling, wanna play a game and I grant you three attempts to guess?"
"Babe, excuse my digress, this is a hard digest."
You rob me my words in the warmest ways
hold my hand through the bullets which are targeting gays
is this real? You're scared, my mind is tricking me
Am I ugly? Needy? Emotionally bleedy?
Your pupils, terrific and massive, the only hint your soul spills
'bout the moments you want what your fate wills
Rome is surrounded by seven hills
you are surrounded by three grams of Ritalin pills
what do you think I am seeing?
You blinded me on first sight
conjured this moonless night
and hurt me.

Finally, shut up and die!
We're both waiting.
You have the choice and end up blading you arms
what a symbole of wicked pharms and self-harm
you're crying alone
and I'm crying alone
crying my love with my phone by my mouth and ear
and you don't feel at home?
Then tell me whereever it is you wanna go
please let your heart speak
no shame show, no crave blow
your love, not sour but sweet, not like some kind of cheese.

Tell me
why do I love you?
Who is this ill fate I'm falling through?

cleverly unsure, slowly through it
giving me a few low-ish tones
if not too much thinking how to to do it
I find myself floating through those moans

provide more of those little gems
stopping the thinking and starting the deed
if you don’t know it, there’s a chance
that in-toning is an optional need

hum and breathe
with the shy sound of strings
groan and sheath
the strong blading of the wind
loving it all
makes you big in that small

The lipped and smeared glass beckoned
brazenly
sauces fingered over red
what do they say
flavors blending conspicuously
rich

i say
rich
and I sip away at this submarine
blue and cool coral in the distance
under sun light blading-in warmth
like carved happiness suddenly
uncovered will you look
at that

i drain it down
hold while i open another thanks
and i recognize the homage
in reluctance recalcitrance even
words of ground glass
grin out

on this plain
these steppes swept
out
lightly switched off life
drifts on here