Make me choke my Chesapeake Bay oysters
Down a long narrow tube called onion
On a salty slab of rust
That juts out from the corner
Of a jagged table now suffering the load
Of my humongous belly,
Sliced from gill to gill
And forgetting the kind manners one usually exhibits
While out dining with guests
In a trendy restaurant
On the East side of town.
Hold my napkin tight to my lapel,
And caress these breasts
That light the night on fire
Through a venomous spray
Of narcotics and other banned substances
Hurled deep into the bowels
Of an East Van back alley entrance,
Identified by a single spotlight
Casting lurking shadows into my side glances
And smelling of stale urine
Upon the disposal bin filled with sour milk.
Knock knock, let me in.
Month: September 2015
Stallion (day 1585)
Poised like a stallion
– Boy can you call out? –
Levels of a whisper
Took the couple by surprise.
– Have you paid off your tariff? –
And the doors swung fully open
Jammed with eager patrons
– Sing for me heady –
Galloping in bliss feeling
Take a moment, laughter
Lift a delicate feather
And if you find a guy
– a warm and ragged traveler –
Calling out your name
In gay and playful manner
– Pray, no need to shutter –
Dig in deeper spurring
Leave your stallion wilder.
Hanging Art (day 1584)
Hammer
Re-hammer
Level
Awake Art (day 1583)
This is my awake art.
This is breath and stretching loudly
While pouring everything strong
Into a collapsed set of lungs
To be prepared for an avalanche
Of oncoming strategies
And cross-hooks
Set to dazzle
Even the most magnificent of
Gentleman preachers
Standing atop
Wooden keg soapboxes.
That Fun (day 1582)
“I’m not that fun”
Said the crescent moon
That wept loudly
Amidst autumn’s leaves
Spread carelessly perfect
On an empty yard
Sitting aimlessly awkward
With such high hopes.
And then thy heart stripped.
Forsooth, a voice sounded;
To gasp, even just for a brief moment
The complexities no shadows
Could reveal.
Traces (day 1581)
Stunning,
So I didn’t walk home alone.
A long song
To which I moved along.
Movement was the story I wrote
With my fountain tipped pen
Of legs
Of limbs
Of your traces left upon my skin.
Rolling Circles (day 1580)
I am beginning to observe this once again,
One two three one two three one two three.
And your elegance makes my romance
Waltz as a leaf in autumn’s light breeze.
Let this hand be lead for thee,
One two three one two three one two three.
And my pen write again because
Circles rolling down these widening streets.
“Late,” said the bus to a leaning signpost,
One two three one two three one two three.
And if recollections could be the bumblebee
Sun would soak yellow into sands of our memory.
Blurry Pictures (day 1579)
I’m sorry
I don’t know your mystery
As my endless powers
Magnify
Little corners of
Great entrapments
That circle fearlessly
Overhead
Banging into
A plethora
Of elbow sentences
And blurry pictures
That hover there
Opened to page 43
I Hide Dearly (day 1578)
You, the laws of existence
Shatter backgrounds,
Vignette my humble starts
Like an avalanche thrilling
The supine fingers of my soul
Reaching out from my spine,
Tingling my hiccups
And opening my vent
To ignite the glowing embers
Hidden deep within
My aching muddle of bones
Criss-crossing cavernous regions
I hide dearly.
Thug Dance (day 1577)
I’m an East Van thug
I’ve got dimes for your eyes
I wrote empty lines
For shoes your size.
Beats’n’bustin
And breakin signs,
I’ve locked this hood
On playing this rhyme
Crack crack
Break a ga-lack
Break your mother fuckin’ knees
Smack; my attack
From Hasting’s to Oppenheimer
To Railtown smokin’ crack
These pimps are all small time
Knock’n at my back.
I’ve got thugs in my pocket
From Strathcona to Clark
Commercial to Main,
Remember sucker, East Van’s the land
All you rebels cryin’ loud
My shit’s locked tight
Now strap on your booties,
Baby, let’s dance!
