Saturday, December 3, 2011

Gone in the Wind

This evening, a friend stood up in front of two hundred people and erased me.  It wasn't a malicious act.  It was probably forgetfulness.  But my contribution completely vanished from history.  Something I did and was very proud of.  Poof.  I apparently did not do it.  But that is not how I remember it.

I'm suffering.  This hurts.

How do I deal with this?  How do I quit hurting?  We are going to be working more in the future.  I've given my word.  So I am afraid of and expecting this to happen again.  But I cannot gracefully back out without completely destroying previous work done.  So I have to suck this up.  I have to let this go.

I have to throw up my hands and say 'armour myself against what I am taught will happen again' and carry on.

To maintain my own integrity I have to let this go.  I just don't know how quite yet.

Friday, May 13, 2011

My Response to the May 21st Prediction

Don’t accidentally leave your pet trapped in the house!
Matthew 24:29-31, 1 Thessalonians 4:15-17, 2 Thessalonians 2:1-3, Revelation 1:7
ARP Insurance promises, that in the event of the Rapture, described in the Christian Bible, the company will ensure that the beloved pets of the insured will be rescued and given safe haven and a good home until such time that the Kingdom of Heaven is established and the owners can be re-united with their non-human companions. Let Fluffy and Boots be saved, just as you are!
For this service, the company will charge $100 to cover the initial named pet for a indemnity period of ten years after signing. The client may insure further animals in the household for a further $20 dollars per animal.

OUR COMPANY: We are caring and compassionate individuals who are not Christian, the Virtuous Pagans and will therefore not be subject to the aforementioned Rapture and the clients will be able, in peace and good conscience leave the care of their pets to our people without fear that we will be caught up as well. We currently, in good conscience, may offer our services in Southern Ontario, New York and Philadelphia.
Initial Insured Pet Name: Any additional Pets:

Ages, health and life requirements of aforementioned pets:

Total Payment:

I, ________________________ do give ARP Insurance agents permission to enter my home if, and only if, the Christian Rapture occurs, and then only for the rescue of the named, stranded pets.
ARP limits itself to the above action only in the pursuit of contract fulfillment and only in the occurrence of said Rapture.
Signature: __________________ Date:_________________
Witness:_____________________ Date:__________________

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

These Rooms

These rooms
are all like broken teeth
in a face I once knew.

June '89


Some people:
the answering machine of flesh and bone
flesh, blood and feelings
payed to use a voice
and hands
but nothing else;
repeating words meaningful
as a parrot's chatter


Saturday, March 19, 2011

A few new poems

The bulk of human existance...
is moving dirt
and rocks.

Moving furniture?
A form of earth transformed
and thus

Anything metal? Smelted.
and thus

Water? full of mineral salts

Human existance - moving dirt
and rocks.


The art of reading grocery labels

Does this actually contain food?
edible food
product? what?

xantham gum, phenol poly propel malto
dextrin, calcium hydroxide,

what the hell?

this cannot be safely edible.
Excuse me
while I go to the veggie aisle...

for 'swollen iris'
another word for
not fun

Flirting... happens

Flirting happens when
everyone is secure
and safe
in their skins

It's not flirting
if people scream
or blame
or run shrieking
howling into the night

For heaven's sake, people
Take a breath
Instead of taking it serious!



Village. Place where
the new dam went
and flooded Lake of Bays deeper

Where the dance hall was
and the church groups argue
and lie buried
cheek by jowl
in adjoining graveyards.

Way-stop, dinner stop
when loggers drew
by horse
to Dwight.


All written, March 17, 2011

Monday, March 7, 2011

Scratch Crater

I imagine that every grown woman, who regularly wears a bra, has an itchy spot, right in the middle of her back. Or a scar. Or both. Maybe not. But lots.

I have never seen the scar on my own back but right under the bra closures I have grown a pimple more than once and, unseeing, scratched it open because it was bugging me.

A western woman's repeated scarification. The mark of the Brassiere. A mark she cannot see, only feel. Her lovers can see it. Her lovers can help her scratch it.

But we are a visual species and unless we go to considerable trouble to see a reversed image of this tiny scar on our backs, it is as unreal to us as the back of the moon.

Imagine. Our own personal scratch crater.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011


I'm currently sitting up... feeding the fire.

The temperature outside is plummetting, and my insulation is shot [damned mice].

So I sit and feed more wood into the flames.

My nose gets cold.

I will crawl into bed under mounds of feathers and STILL the house will get cold.

I am living a medieval existance. Feed the fire.

Or die.

The same way the boys at Ypres and Passchendale. Do the work.

Or die.

Bloody colonials.


Doing Coolie work.

Work. Or the winter will kill you. No bargaining. No dealing. Dead.

It does not care who your father is.

It does not care who your family is.

It hammers the cold down on top of your house and if you don't feed the fire...

You die.


End of Sentence.

Gates shut.

All go home.

You cannot argue with cold. it does not care.

My nose is cold.

I need to crawl under feathers.

and dream of spring.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Food is Love?

At a so called restaurant
The other day
I watched a Pride of Lions feeding
Fat male stealing
From the cubs
Female swatting cubs apart
A lot of roaring and growling
Snarling and fighting
Savannah, sitting on plastic
Under fluorescent lights
To musak