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Dear Dear, I am unsure if you have noticed, but in the cumulative three weeks you have hidden in Montreal, it has not rained. Snow has buried. Sun has bloomed. But even among the heaviest clouds that mute the world in gray, all that was held was the promise of spring, of a slow walk, … Continue reading
must i whisper through this dark that you are the heavy light that sweeps through the tears of summer saying all we have all we are is an old cat boxed in by the smell of a new day promising that as long as it is alive it won’t forget what it was to be … Continue reading
more more than this you must give me more i am not armed for aimless love for the faded sundays under lazy fans the lukewarm spreading of a family dog the dispassionate mumbling between a blanket and duvet and the needless needing by tea left alone in the microwave i am equipped with … Continue reading
the following is supposed to be never again never again. * look and see that though you are hiding in the shadows the light was always you * if i go who will follow but the ghost of i still stuck waiting for whomever is gone and going elsewhere always away from i and i … Continue reading
blank look now at the end with a spine bent with a story that is heavier than the breath unbound what is worse than the unread the unwritten what is longer than the novel the old i am erasing you there to the brag of the unfinished the failed metaphors the depraved similes … Continue reading
hardly a confession so softly an eruption of a sunflower that is inelastic in the spring of a sleepy volcano scared of its own yawning heart of a poem pronounced as an exhalation followed by a deep buttery silence that is blooming to you saying that we’ll make more than love while we … Continue reading
and you said i was writing about us when i didn’t mean to because there was much still to do like not you but that is besides like not me but that is something else too which i have found in this writing about not us because there is nothing in nothing just the feeling … Continue reading
i think i am supposed to think less, because you told me when it is over it is over, and i asked what is there? what is after the edge? how is it that at the end of some ends, there is a crack, a light? you told me it was gobbledygook, another reason why … Continue reading
dear dear, loud geese have died quietly out my open window. jet black has covered their bodies in pylons and the civilized process that lead hands to hold hands. they look like mistakes, splats. the sky was too heavy, the ground even more so. it had snowed. it is snowing. they are freeze-dried now, as men … Continue reading
the following is sloppy. it makes me clean in the way simple dichotomies don’t. * is it possible to be tired of being tired is it okay to not know what it means to be okay how is it that here among the space of unwritten letters and ideas forgotten i have found the place … Continue reading
Mizpellt wurdz 