Poetry Archives Bio
August 22, 2017
2:09 AM
meticulous and necessarily comprehensive
Inspired by Rod Moody-Corbett

the past is alive
and I need to piss

rednecks at an airshow
stalker at the orpheum

adiabatic obduction
bluegreen or winedark

kingston or kensington
¿can I get a receipt

twenty thousand snips
(bit on the nose

I've had six gee and tees
and I'm still not there

but my head might just
head might adjust

is my symmetry any good
(it never ends

he shits  he scars

the morality of
consuming thought

overheard  (while I
cringe and look off

i want to pulp his face
into punch

these eight clear ones go
really well with the pain

a shock of hair
(as if hair could cause shock

the fall and rise of
mackenzie king in the window

we got along well
safe as houses on fire

she wanted the sky to mirror
my fear of the sea

she went somewhere
you can call someone over


every word  a little between
a caress and a growl

meanwhile here  fools gaze
shoebox apocalypse

i keep hoping their eyes
melt out their heads

but it passes  and
in skunked night air

i forgive them
and order another

August 8, 2017
11:48 PM
Cappelbaum Gets a Divorce

"can I have your name
for the cup?
asks the perky barista

"shylock  mouths Cappelbaum
"never mind the bollocks
as he sips his

                caramel macchiato

Cappelbaum wanders (wonders
at the optimistic brutalism
that surrounds him

two girls gallop past
at breakneck speed  they shout

hardly are those words out
that bill nye steps out of the shadows
all spinning electrons and hasheesh

then  thinks Cappelbaum
must the Jew be 

the foregoing reminds him of
a pedant (pendant in the shape of
a chevron

a nail  rusted white
or the long slender leg
of a shroom

Cappelbaum's wife affirms
in her sleep  "uh huh
and then turns around

   there was once a girl  jenny port'ead
   who wouldn't sign lines that were dotted

   who are you talking to?

at least I didn't fall
from the sixteenth floor
chasing a ball  thinks Cappelbaum

as he's overtaken
by a severe regiment
of the royal canadian mounted whatever

the sergeant major
leads the procession
his face bebarnacl'd

he reminds Cappelbaum of
the white trash who present each other
smirnoff ice on a bended knee

who wax their womb brooms
and can't wait for patch 2.0
to come out for their tweeds

who pray in private life
(just as long as there's vin
to go with the pain

  she'd bargained full force 'til she got her divorce
  and she exited it all unspotted

 "sorry to bother you!

Cappelbaum interrupts
a meditating Chinese
beside the seaside trail

 "I just needed to touch this tree
Cappelbaum thinks  would a comma here 
make it worse, or much worse?

in the photograph
of his foot's torn integument
whorls recede into flesh

I am not a tree
decides Cappelbaum
looking up at the muscled bros

and their music boxes
he imagines picking a fight
with one  then backing off

Cappelbaum has
the perfect retort
he will never use

"you'd better not  he'd say
       with a disarming smile
   "first put on a few pounds

August 4, 2017
7:49 AM
story of my life
To Rod Moody-Corbett

the sun
is an orange ball
obscured by suspended particulate

you were in my dream last night
but I can't remember
the plot

it was supposed to be hot
but the fires up north
blotted out the sky

so every day I
wake up lighter and lighter
as my soul clarifies

just like fat in soup

July 10, 2017
11:33 AM
Arbeitsleben II

Oops! The goalposts moved.
Can we deliver on time?
Don't think; code, code, code.

June 12, 2017
12:37 AM
style fully wonderful

the country runs its zoetrope
before me

cows and horses
horses and cows

(you need to be just far gone enough
to notice the second sky
and not drown

everything changes
but the river never changes

I put a flat palm to my head
and half-expect to see myself

on the other side  the coast
is decidedly alien
but I can still see you

I can see you
can you see me?

there I am
surrounded by the white fluff

i note and catalogue
while contemplating
my own province or provenance

the city's scarred face
the trees' rabid cuneiform

eighteen geese
mill over the defilade

prepubescent girls
use whole chicken legs
to catch crabs

I once wrote about amber here
(i still don't know what exactly i meant

here I mired my shoes
photographing disaster

here I observed a homeless man  drunk
pissing in a brilliant arc

June 8, 2017
10:22 AM
Limericks VI

There was once a girl from Vancouver,
Who knew how to suck like a Hoover.
She'd often go bust when she'd fill up with dust
For she didn't quite get the maneuver.

There was once a boy from Seattle,
Who was quite in love with his cattle.
He'd get quite forlorn when they'd give him the horn,
For most often he'd lose that battle.

There was a young couple from Thames,
Who both often liaised risqué femmes.
One evening they went to a "room for rent,"
But the mystery swingers were them's!

May 8, 2017
2:39 PM
For Lily

from the busy living room
to the balcony

you stand defiant
slender foot in water dipped
your face turned to the sun

you take in the scene
of cars intertwined
through the cloverleaf

you breathe in
the invisible bay
obstructed by construction

and streets
oh Lily you still have time
but not much

others would hurry
but you will stand there
'til evening

'til the memory of
being cut down
will bloom and blister

like a fiery vision
and you
so precariously leaning

in the instant of
a decision
will gather your whitebrown skirts

coyly dipping your head
as if abashèd
by the sound of the roaring sky

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