Thursday, March 29, 2018

After a Morning of Freedom


.
.
The dream is the real thing,
waking a compromise.
Oh  dream
I've been with you
since I bore you,
discovered you
clinging to the walls
of the tank that holds me,
or you discovered me.

Tuesday, March 27, 2018

The Organicity of the Sneeze

The Organicity of the Sneeze
.
.
My body is
a sack of the Earth.
I know how the
wind blows and blows
until something crashes
and the birds rise
until the sky bursts
open to blue.
Its a bag with hundreds of
distended membranes,
air pumping through them
and pulsing bubbles.
It prepares for explosions,
awaits them, longs for them,.
brings them about
like music.

Monday, March 26, 2018

Friday Night Music


.
.
I'm one of those
born across the world
from a home that didn't
exist until after. I float
.
over skeleton homes
with shadow reminders
of where my somewhere
music comes from.
.
The lyrics comfort me
but I don't believe them
when they describe belonging,
the lyrics only enlist.

Friday, March 23, 2018

The Late Sleeper



Death is
inside. Life is
out. Silence
contains the
.
the tools of death.
And when it
happens every day,
you practice with them.
.
You may develop
a compentency in
death by finding
the levers of light.
.
that bind you
to silence,
that close
the doors.

Tuesday, March 20, 2018

The Belly Student


.
.
I start to like my dreams.
They get bigger and solidify
in paint and visions,
stretch around things not as
boring and regular as flesh.
.
I spent the day looking at bodies,
flesh stretched over bone and muscle,
hands grasping things and moving
far from imagination.
.
I couldn't believe my eyes.
I forgot everything outside what
I imagined.  I looked in awe and horror
at how they willed and how they laughed.

Monday, March 19, 2018

Winnipeg from the North End: My New Life--a photo show

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NFxPlmphGeI
.

Friday, March 16, 2018

Nine AM


.
The big male dog
who shares the house
along with two female graduate students,
a female professorial city planner and me,
is an energetic person. He licks his
plastic bone, decides he likes it, snuffles his wet tongue,
spreads himself on the carpet,
ignores the four
male cats who glide around him.
Then he rises lumpily and
gladly, cloppers to his
dish of meat kibbles.
I can hear his tongue
and the crunch of his large teeth.

Friday, March 09, 2018

Remembering


.
It was dark
and the time was all
weird.
.
I am
tied together
with strings of time.
And one of them
broke
with an audible
ping.