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the switchman

28 May

i sit in the bathtub,
not too often,
but the next time i do,
i will watch the water slither towards the drain and
remember that
water wears down everything and
it will do me too.
then after that,
i’ll exit the tub,
dry off,
and cut some vegetables in the nude.

painting by colorsetbrushes


if i were a cloud…

21 Sep

i’d be one of those giant cauliflower cumalumbalus clouds on a hot humid day when the future is always steamy and up ahead and advancing quickly is another giant cauliflower cumalumbalus cloud and we merge into one.

as is the old port

20 Sep

a church organ’s massive pipes give way to horse feet clapping cobblestone fade away to the strum of Spanish guitar replaced by the hoooooo and sssssss of wind through leaves in soft percussion that was always there.


8 Sep

the wind speaks.
i thought it said, “any desire will do”
so i said “make the world a strange place!”
within minutes,
spruce tree branches started to wave.


The Dracula Times

3 Sep

*the opinions of this newspaper do not necessarily reflect its namesake Dracula or any of its succubus subsidiaries.

A boy awakes at 2:17 AM from a wonderful dream
-Dreamspace Earth, Moon rise spotting section 3.a9

He dreamed of a dog with four black paws running free and easy across a green field. He dreamed he was hugging Madonna. They were rocking to and fro, hands on each other’s shoulders. They were seated in the Lotus position, face to face, slowly leaning into each other, closer and closer, uncoiling from their stiff electric legs. The risk of flipping over and being swallowed by the space between them was very high. She dared him and dared him some more and then he did it. He flipped them over and they were swallowed,


they flew and flew and it was hard to tell if they were going up or down, but they landed on an old rooftop with a dilapidated ceiling. They were still very high above sea level and he knew he couldn’t endure any more ambivalence of whether to soar or not so he greeted the edge with open wings and soared some more, this time, on his own. He was scared, but pleasantly surprised by the landing… on soft patch green earth.

He felt that he could survive anything after such a great soar. He was at the airport, rejoicing over what he had accomplished. He sat down between two different sets of people. They were sort of speaking French. He was still feeling invincible when one of the groups asked him for directions in a language not at all French. He couldn’t answer but he knew if he could speak to them what he would say. He would tell them to take the bus 747 to Lionel Groulx subway station and take an orange line to where bus 129 began. Then take bus 129 to Cote St. Catherine and walk.

He awoke remembering this dream. It unraveled like an intestinal track. He didn’t understand it, but be believed again in the fliers and coupons that appear in his mail slot once a week. There are good deals on Pizza and temporary garages called TEMPOS for people who drive, park and skid their cars all winter long. He prefers to fly, but didn’t want to go back to sleep so he reached for a beer instead. He worried about the next day, but relished that moment and the rush for rapture. It was 3:05 AM.

even if we swear to tell the truth…

29 Aug

there will most likely be dozens of versions of what just happened on the corner of Birch and Benglehoff and so a wind sock could be…..
wild and wacky,
flexible and content
doing some sort of wababatooba dance
very cool
very hot if ignited and would probably melt
an ancient manifestation
a crack head at a party
something to aspire to be
and so on……

in the marshland…

28 Aug

the grasses are tall.
they bend and bow like windsocks at used car lots.
bending and bowing,
in praise of life,
in praise of anyone who walks by.
i feel better already and bow back,
in praise of grass,
in praise of life.

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