Engines are roaring on the freeways and streets,
while dawn’s haze makes halos around street lights.
That time, when bad dreams from late-night pizzas
swarm from the bellies of sleeping teenagers.
Red LEDs from their chargers and iPhones,
stare like small bleary eyes into the gloom;
the spirit flickers in weak imitation.
The morning air is thick with dissipation,
And some weary of acting, and others of whoring. Read more →
she was born with a dorsal malformation
worse than spina bifida
it’s all the fault of Ingres
who painted her with three extra vertebrae
the risk of falling is constant
she gets around with a cane
the fucking unthinkable pain
Dilaudid three times a day and Beefeater Gin
like a redneck from Asbestos Read more →
I hope to be absolved.
I’m making a place for myself in the gutter.
All images exist.
I shed sizes and formats.
I cry over empty holes.
I’m ashamed from above.
My body quivers.
I’ve envied death.
There are colours for the months.
The yellow ones worry me.
At night, I embrace my knot. Read more →
Then came the time for essential questions. Children are always the ones who ask them. The ones adults leave unanswered, claiming there is no answer. Except sometimes philosophers, scientists, poets. Who are bereft like the very littlest. Who reach about the same conclusions—the same lack of conclusion—as they do. Read more →
Freighter blue on Adriatic! Hi!
Blue cranes on the edge blue tongues of girls
behind the glass, tongue out, ick! whatever
girl swimmers laugh, flexible as
In swimming flexibility is key
swim = slip, glide, fly, embrace on
the run, go off, grow up
“You’re late,” Madame McKinnon said for the third time, tugging on the left sleeve of her dress.
She appeared quite content to stay in her armchair. In fact, it appeared to be her favourite pastime – pulling her sleeves and telling people they were late.
“You’re awfully late,” she repeated.
“Yes, Madame, I do apologize, it’s because of the bus, as I said…”
I want to be somewhere else, Marie Bilodeau thought feverishly. Read more →
Stingy north suns have dried their skin to paper.
Do not make them get up. Here movement spells loss.
Their trouserbacks spinnaker toward noplace.
I look at myself in the mirror. My hairdresser is struggling without success; it just isn’t working. I am not terribly concerned, I’m not really paying much attention, I’ve been [More…]
impossible de faire un tour en ville Read more →
ya can’t even go into town
without gettin’ splattered by pranks Read more →