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You beckon me with an aperitif.
The Kir Royal tingles, its bubbles tickling my nose.
Its subtle black courant pulls me into your smile.
I drink from your lips the champagne-tingle of your kiss.
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Her cash. It smelled like seven-dollar-a-quart gardenia perfume and cave aged cheese—like hope overgrown with mildew.
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Christmas night was closing in at the Cantrips alehouse in Aberdeen, a firm favourite for riggers and other men and women who lived life close to the horizon. Sometimes, on a Saturday night, things might get a bit rowdy but Mother O'Grady would stand firm and bring out…
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The window washer started saving pigeons whose feet were wrapped in fine black thread, the result, he informed me, of picking through trash bins. They are very intelligent, he went on to explain. (Right, trash bins, I thought to myself.) People tend to av
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I made her a mix tape. It was revolutionary. Twenty-two songs she had to hear at least once in her life. I even drew some trippy drug-like designs on the label of the CD to make it seem more real. It was the ocean and the sun and every body of land balled up…
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"I found a grey pubic hair the other day."
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“It felt like the space under my skin had been filled with desert sand. I did not open my eyes for my body was covered with the dust. A camel could have walked over me and not noticed. I needed to wipe my eyes before I could open them and my body was froz
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“I was just dreaming about you,” he said, sleepy-voiced. “What's for breakfast?”
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My mind raced at the endless possibilities one could die while driving to get a pizza.
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We discussed the epic poems/
and agreed to write a new one.
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They could cram Rob inside the trunk and then drop him somewhere in the dingles.
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Dear Conrad,
If you cannot control your dog’s barking I’ll rig up a loud speaker facing the general direction of your house, and every time your mutt starts howling at the moon, I’ll start playing “It’s a Small World (After All)” at top volume on the p
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It's all over now, Baby Blue...
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They frequent the open oceanbut not on this daythis day is dark and dank after aheavy rainstormI wait for them to come back tothe waterthey don't comeI wonder where they hide duringthe stormthe gulls don't fit in tree holesso where, where are they?
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Today’s new YouTube kitten;
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No king of Ithaca, but of each/
whining, banging, dust–clouded island/
of focused, physical work
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What was so bad about other religions that their followers were automatically condemned to eternal damnation? The priests were so convincing when they claimed Christ was the only true way.
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I paid the doctor / You paid the doctor
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Her shoes, left uninhibited below, seem sad but understanding, and she is so in love with something, which makes me so in love with the idea of her.
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The Snowman grinned malevolently as the Sugar Plum fairies shook in their tiny powdered boots."Santa has one more hour and then you're all marshmallow toasts!" the Snowman said. He laughed and he laughed. His evil plan? He wanted the key to time delivered to him personally…
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Route 346 is the way Pop drove to Troy long after everybody else took Route 2. Today Charlie and I drive in the opposite direction. Back then, Pop drove us to Troy on Route 346 on Sunday afternoons with the car windows…
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in their hunt for desires not felt on either side of the crescent /
called Gowanus
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For a few/
vivid weeks, deciduous shrubs and trees/
will seem to glow like flames and embers
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I looked away. Why embarrass the Ottawa woman? Why make her uncomfortable? The polite thing is to move on, forget about it. Stare at the sidewalk not yet wet but becoming wet. Be Canadian.
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When Frank entered Michiko’s apartment, Michiko was not there.
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A man comes out of the waves
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The church building was a rustic structure made of rough-cut lumber that over-lapped in the clap-board fashion. The building itself was unpainted, but the boards were a weathered gray that only came from years of exposure to weather. The steeple towered o
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I wrote this piece after I told the originator of the youtube video "Mieders Alpine Coaster" by David Jellis how I felt watching it.
I admitted I was a voyeur not a participant, but that his video fascinated me to the point that I needed to write ab
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Today clouds were dancing on the moon
Moon had a fit but drew in a breath
And let out a sigh
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It hangs unspoken in the sadness he pushes through his harmonica, while his hands work the old, beat-up guitar that tries to be a Gibson for his fingertips.
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