Early June Poems

The moon in June

       the lampost stands musing it out
law & legend lie in the deepest dustiest alcove of the ark
once they were married, mystically
went whale-watching
then built a civil ship, docked
dry in a beach-house dynasty

       today, from this beautifully lucid spread-spectrum of vision & revision
& predatory white that dappled the museum
in heat-mirage wetting the impression
of a been-to destination
we lived in two rooms
tubless & together like saltines

       leaping into & out of our boxes
urgently confuting tidal imperatives
ill at an easy oscillating tether
through the dead spots of transmission
found where our bodies boost the gain
of a CBC afternoon gardening program or morning strain

       of linearity & growing, older, fuzztonier
crispness of the cabbage
dusted the collage implements reclaimed
from silly little boys & girls
morning mumbledance of sustainable illusions
illusion of the outside on a sunny day

       aid impending
striding without warning through the floral boundary
a month later the barricades
to the amphiteatre, empty before rain
pulse and emission when we come together
sparked by the background energy

       of june always somewhere away
a prize that makes things possible
even enmity shitheads amplifying
NO ALTERNATIVES again
who remembers trusting the brain
is there sales tax on your poetry?

       this is a stupid ramble
i would like to learn to play our new-old piano




A night at the pressers

a kiss
whose optimism opines
"most people would say that's perfect"
i agree and bite into my red-steak sandwich
greedily
will it cover the rent
the income from our apple tree

we're what the weather
snores
surrounded by ideology
torture prisons
improvisation confined
to occasional magazines
& catches of trains

pretty girls change
the atmosphere
especially with manifestos
beginning again
at the edge of each season
to convince themselves
of the virtue of seed

tamping down my
love for men
all "I"s in the
conversation
blindside agonistes
hope you make it
home







Persecution and the art of writing

"a variety of phenomena ranging from /
the Spanish Inquisition
to / social ostracism"

Our new neighbourhood's
obituaries in bricks
scratching the sky on the brightest day
are obvious to see
not so their philosophy
falsified under humps of grass —
they lie
& we walk
or slump around the parks
scars under scabby paint
selves to reface on cloudy days & at parties
Hello stunned toddler
Hello gum snuggler
Hi there, switchblade set
This is not a natural motion, position
    or a primordial fatality guarantee
A bumblebee crumpling the grass like a small cat
An inner freedom from supervision
An oversight, a vision, or a right