Saturday, November 04, 2006


my favourite publication that I've appeared in is broke. a nice looking mag. here's 5 poems they took for the Winter 2000 edition. Volume 2, Issue 1.


where else have you lived? she asked
a bar conversation struck by him an
attempt to woo but now he wished he
hadn't the air betweem them might as
well have been a wall.
what? he said.
where else have you lived besides here?
well. just here. how about you?
she was waiting for this
you could tell this was her ace
her question to him was like a feed from
Gretzky because she puffed big and started to list.
here and here and here and for a while here and
Paris isn't all it's cracked up to be and
her geography was tapemeasure endless but he
nodded just the same and to pass the time he
imagined her
spread like a map.

what it takes

it wasn't much but it
was to him, what he had, he collected
tins and turned them in for the deposit and
no one knew where he lived but one night one
of us was in a bar and at closing saw the
bartender let the tin man into
the storeroom and closed up and
whenever we asked him how he was
doing he always said My part of

the sky

is blue.


I didn't eat all
day on purpose and 2 drinks and
I'm feeling ok. now's a good
time. pick up the phone and pause and it
isn't enough. one more drink. not yet. another and
then the phone. no. no. wait. no need to rush. the
clock says it's early yet. she's probably not
even home. she's probably out somewhere
2 quick drinks on that.
still out I bet. still. time for another. hold the
phone in my lap. see what I can say. need some fuel
to think. and then the phone's on the floor
and another
and now the cord out
of the wall because it's too late
to call and I can't possibly talk now my
tongue has become something else and a few more and
who needs her? and it's time to sleep because it
worked for
another night.

if lemmings were drunks

the mistake of this evening
not one particular moment but
them all strung together as
a whole left open for us to
fall into with nothing new
at the bottom of this one either.

2 weeks notice

one day I'll be able
to call work: I quit
I quit I quit I quit I quit
I quit I quit I quit
eye cue you eye tea.
and well
I don't care what
you think it
sure looks
like poetry to

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