Chapbooks and Spatial Reasoning

I lack spatial reasoning – the ability to mentally re-arrange objects without physically touching them. I have to do mock ups & even then it’s frustrating. In this case it was the logic behind piecing together my chap book – page layout so that when it gets printed & collated everything is in the correct order for the reader. On the page the left side is one, but the right side is not two – but whatever your final page number is to be – a single sheet is actually 4 pages – chap books thus need to have pages counts divisible by 4 – confused? So you see my

oogieWith the help of a second set of hands this layout work got done. Hurrah! This’ll be longest chapbook I’ve self-published. All the pieces have been prompted by the 48 Laws of Power – but I resisted calling it Power Poetry & opted, as I always do, to title after one of the pieces – in this case “After The Falling.”

As I do with a feature I made sure the flow was one that invited readers, amusing them to start & then getting political, human, queer sexy & ending with something unlike anything else in the book. The pieces underwent rewrites so they are somewhat different from the versions I’ve already blogged here.toilet

I told someone I was pricing it at $10 & they felt that was too expensive for a chapbook. Considering that they would tip a bartender that much for a couple of good cocktails I said “I’ll keep that in mind.” Keeping in mind that they won’t be getting the complimentary copy they expect. But this is a gripe for another post.noirjuly13

It’ll stay at $10.00 for the hard copy. If you want a PDF copy send $4.00 to my paypal below & I’ll email you a copy. The PDF will have additional Power pieces. My Hot Damn! set will also have some non-Power pieces not in the book & a PDF of the actual set will be $2.00. All PayPal funds go to buying me (& other poets) coffee at Capturing Fire 🙂


a piece that didn’t make it to the final cut of the printed book or the Hot! set:

Answer My Texts

you never answer my texts

he texts me

why not

he wants to be a friend

to know what I’m up to

one day the texts came so fast

he didn’t know

which one I was replying to

when in fact

I didn’t want to reply to any

it was a waste of my time

plus I hate texting & walking

it was none of his business

what I was up to

at any given moment

he wanted to made sure

I wasn’t having sex

when I wasn’t even having sex with him

he wanted to be my friend

I wasn’t sure why

we had little in common

other than being male

we’d met twice face to face

which was enough for me

and he built on that

even as I made it clear I wasn’t interested

after the flurry of texts

to set up that first meeting

I knew I wasn’t interested

I am not suspicious by nature

but I value my privacy

there is nothing worth discovering

no trade secrets

no best-seller plots to pirate

he wants something

I’m not sure what it is

but I’ll never text fast enough

to find out


Too Much TV

25-green-01Do I watch too much TV? Apparently not but I’m clearly not watching the TV that counts. I’m one of the few people I know who watches things like Top Chef, Top Model, FaceOff – artificial reality shows edited for drama – particularly America’s Next Top Model in which tensions in the barn, I mean the house, drive the show. Squabbles between the women competing for opportunity to be on the runway.

This new season, sans Tyra Banks, has tried to shake things up some by skewing to a younger demographic but I’m not even sure what their market is anyway? Jaded gay males over 40? I can’t see women, of any age, watching this show for any reason. Unless it’s for the train wreck potential in the idiotic photo shoots. I had to laugh when the new host claimed she was nervous to take over the show because it was one of the most important in the history of televisio25-green-02n. Clearly someone with no sense of history.

The current cycle of Project Runway Jr. is coming to an end & I really love this show. Everything happens in the work room, we get glimpses of personal life but this show is all about the garment, the talent & sometimes the ability to sew. The creativity of these teens is amazing. Though when one of them, as always happens, says ‘I’ve been dreaming of this all my life’ – & they are only 14 – I think, honey, too bad your dreams were realized so soon – I hope to can still dream a bigger dream. My one quibble with Project Runway (in all its incarnations) is the lack of men’s wear – let’s see them challenged by that.

25-green-03These shows are amazing for diversity – ages, races, genders, sexualities are all represented without too much attention. I say ‘too much’ as Top Model did include a heated discussion between two black models about the difference between being a Black American and an African American. Top Chef always gives back story & family plays a big part; male chefs with males lovers get as much back story as a married female chef with husband & two children. This is diversity without calling attention to itself.

Beside these artificial reality shows I do watch some actual TV. Currently working through the Complete Buffy series, into season 2. Can’t wait for Seth Green’s character to be fully introduced. Working through AmHor Story Hotel is proving to be fun. Gaga gets great gowns & we get lots of blood spatter but not enough Angela Bassett. Fresher has been Taboo – Tom Hardy is captivating, the story is ok, the black magic is too underplayed for my liking. The look is dark, relentlessly intense & one show I’m happy for commercials. His great coat is the the star of the show.25-green-04

Less fresh: I’ve been indulging in Are You Being Served? Vision has been repeating the entire series in a slightly edited form. Edited to fit the time slot, by usually clipping the scene in each episode with a customer. The innocence of the show is endearing, as well as the ‘gay’ character Mr. Humphries. Not a show one watches for emotional depth or ironic social commentary but just for fun. Without this there would never have been French & Saunders – & we are unanimous in that 🙂


My Ass Pussy

ooh I can’t wait

for you to fill my ass pussy

with your man clit


it’s not a clit?

it’s bigger than that

you don’t wan to be feminized


want to fuck my ass pussy

want to eat it out

then breed me

fill me with your baby seed


I don’t get it

you won’t get it either

because I don’t have a man cunt

I’m not a female proxy

I’m a man


I know too many

who have made that transition

from male to female

I respect the cost of that journey

too much

to let you treat me like a woman



I guess it lets your masculinity

enjoy man on man

if you pretend it’s not that

that you aren’t fucking a guy’s ass hole

but his butt vagina


a weird rationalization

a permission to pleasure

without committing to the gender

if you want pussy

why not get someone who has one

that one sure isn’t me


no I’m not some sort of activist

trying to diminish your fantasy

I’m not part of it

even if you want parts of me

to fulfill it

am I to be grateful that you want

to breed my ass pussy with your

what …

I don’t know what to call it now

your cock

yes it sure it is big and hard


that’s not my dream dick


you are man enough to give it

but are you man enough to take it

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr


on going 🙂 when new podcast are posted:  Disability after Dark  iTunes


March 4, Saturday, 8 pm: my first local feature in over two years: Glad Day Books


attending: Saturday, March 25: 9 a.m. 2017 TORONTO SPECFIC COLLOQUIUM


April season 3 FINALS – Friday April 15th Buddies in Bad Times – early show – 7pm startgames

June 9-10-11: attending: Capturing Fire 2017 – flight & hotel booked already


check out these poets from  Capturing Fire 2015 & 2016

August 31-Sept.3 – I have my ticket already


November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo



Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington – sweet,eh?

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr


Don’t Laugh


Started a new set of prompts – I love lists of things – this one will prove to be endlessly productive for another couple of years – 227 Rules For Monks

7 Not to build a monastery without the approval of the saṃgha, harming living beings or not allowing to make a whole turn around it.


Don’t Laugh

don’t laugh

if I say your body

is a temple of love

I’m not saying my whole world

turns around you

or turns around the body

of any man

I’m not seeking confirmation

agreement or even approval

of what to say

about your body

holding it in my arms

I feel you pull me

closer around you

that touch of flesh

that tentative kiss

are all rituals forms

without them

others I may encounter

aren’t as sacred

don’t laugh

I know how corny


that sounds

the images are as stale as

communion wafer

take and eat

what harm is there

in not being original every time

I say something about your body

your tongue

the ride to satisfaction

each time you arrive

I build this moment

add to this memory

that I can retreat to

when you aren’t here

not to worship

but to reflect


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Second Offence

samp 48

Second Offence  (Law 19 take 2

that you offended me is enough

to ask why

shows how little respect you have

for me

or for anyone else for that matter

no one owes you an explanation


that I am offended

is sufficient for you to be humbled

for you to face the consequences

your lack of awareness of your actions

will be corrected

until they are you will be treated

with distrust

dismay distaste

those with this lack of

sensitivity to the needs of others

don’t merit anything more

I can’t be bothered beyond this point


in fact you will never know

things have changed between us

I’ll become less communicative

saying nothing’s the only hint I’ll drop

there’ll be no response

to any inquiry

no returned texts

emails will go directly to trash



I will be closed to you

unfollowed but not unfriended

that takes too much action

there will be no final goodbye

no explanation

because I don’t even want to hear

your apology

your rationalization

I’ll sleep well

22-texture01Another take on Law 19. Not fully successful, it’s more like notes for a piece. It springs from taking offence at someone who, say, mocks a disabled person and feels fully privileged to do so & being belligerent when confronted. If they feel that privileged they don’t deserve an explanation or further attention either.

22-texture02I’ve stopped following, listening to etc some people because of their political, religious or philosophical stance. The fact someone’s homophobic rants aren’t something I care to listen to doesn’t make me intolerant, does it? They can express their view but I don’t have to listen to it or want to hear what they say about anything else for that matter.

I no longer even feel the need to correct them, can’t be bothered pointing out our difference of opinions. I can stop listening without telling them I’m not listening. I see this on line – someone getting pissed at another person & posting something like: “you are an asshole & I’m blocking everything you post for now on.” As if that makes any difference to the person blocked. I merely stop following – I have more important things to do that try to teach someone a lesson. Attention seeking whores don’t keep my attention.

22-texture03I was seeing a black man from Nigeria who was sweet & fun; as we became more comfortable with each other, his opinions of other immigrants became increasing more negative & bigoted. He found most North American blacks to be trash. He found my p.o.v too naive & my politic too soft. He was so convinced & invested in his opinions that I finally concluded that as much as he was great in bed his politic wasn’t worth listening to & I stopped spending time with him. I became closed to him without explaining.

22-texture04On line I’ve opted to unfriend, unfollow even when I agree with someone – their investment in promoting their views became too busy, too frequent & wasn’t telling me anything new. They were putting too much energy into selling me something I’d already bought. Telling them enough is enough, as I did a few times, was equal to disagreeing with them. Whatever. I’m not losing any sleep over them.

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

27brick01 texture

Lazarus Kiss.08

Sis amplexibus Amor alios mututa memini et amoris in mutationes memini.

May you be embraced by a love beyond recall that alters others

and a love within recall that alters you.


The bright lights at the supermarket stung his eyes. Even in fli-flops his feet began to feel hot. Pushing his cart he stopped a few times to pretend he was looking at items but was really squinting at possible candidates for his affections. He imagined Cyclops energy beams radiating from his eyes.

“Excuse me young man,” A very elderly lady pushed past him in the produce section. “Are you going stand there blocking the oranges.”

“Sorry ma’am.” he moved his cart over to let her by.

“Billy is that you?” she grabbed at his arm.


“Don’t be like that Billy. I’d know you anywhere.” she peered at him over her glasses.

“My name isn’t Billy.” She was a classic old lady. Harris almost laughed at the dark taupe stockings and the black oxfords she wore. The traditional, dark, almost patterned with brown, dress under a loose knit beige sweater.  She was wearing what his mother referred to as crawling to the grave clothes.

“Now let me get a good look at you.” She pushed her glasses back, reached out and ran her hand over his chest and down. “You’ve kept your hair nice and long. My but you’ve filled out some since I last saw you, Billy.”

Harris couldn’t believe that this geriatric case was feeling him up like this in public. Not that he’d want her doing it in private either.

She pushed her face towards his, lips pursed for a kiss. Pale mauve lipstick had leaked into tiny cracks around her mouth. The mauve matched her pearl earrings. He tried to push her away.

“Now, don’t be like that Billy.” Saliva collected in the corners of her mouth.

He moved back but was pushed into the counter. He felt oranges behind him. Oh Christ! This was the one! Fucking hell. He didn’t imagine people her age had a sex drive that could be woken up like this.

The oranges tumbled around him as she pressed against him. She nuzzled into his neck.

He slid along the counter, lost footing and fell, crushing oranges under him. She collapsed on top of him. Her hands grappled with his sweat short waist, gave up and moved down to his cock.

“Oh yeah, Billy that’s what I like. A man in my hands again after many empty years.”

Peppermint breath and she smelled of flowers and unwashed hair. Her hand fumbled as if looking for a fly.

“Not here.” He whispered as he reached down to stop her.

“My car is in the parking lot.”

“Great.” He hoped it wasn’t too far. He hoped it was a SUV and that she wasn’t wearing granny pants. It would be hard to keep it up for granny pants.

“Gran! Gran! What’s going on.”

Someone pulled her up to her knees. There were people all around them.

“She was dizzy and …. uh ….. fell on me.” Harris explain.

“Come along now.” The manger was trying to get her up.

“I’ll help you, Gran” A young women knelt down and pulled the old lady’s hand off his crotch.

“Ah, Dina don’t be like that. He doesn’t mind. Do you Billy?”

They got the old lady to her feet. The manager helped Harris get up. He brushed the orange pulp off Harris’s back.

“I’m sorry sir. I hope you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” He didn’t like these people fussing over him. He wanted to get out of there. He’d gotten what he had come for and had to get away.

“Do you want to fill in an accident report?” The manger signaled to his assistant who had a clip board with a form on it.

“No, it was nothing. I’m alright. How is she.”

The old lady was gasping and leaning against a young woman.

“Dina, I don’t know what came over me. He looked so much like Billy. So much.”

“Who is Billy.” Harris asked.

“Her husband. He died years ago. I’m sorry but she’s …”

“Never done anything like this before. I understand.”

“Are you all right.” she flicked orange peel off his shoulder.

“I’m fine, honestly. But I think I should go home and wash off.” He gave a little laugh.

“We could give you a lift.” The old lady offered, her eyes alive with that spark.

“No, that’s fine. I don’t live too far from here.”

Harris started walking as fast as he could. He didn’t feel sore from the fall just damp. He couldn’t believe how his thoughts jumped from revulsion to it being perfectly okay to dash out to any car in a supermarket parking lot to have sex with that old woman. Not that he thought women that age shouldn’t have sex lives but certainly not with him. He shuddered with the image. When would the forgetting start. Soon he hoped. A drink would help with that.

He didn’t want to sit around in a bar stinking of oranges though. There was a beer store by the subway station. It should be still open now.

As he passed the subway there was tall man and a woman handing out flyers. People were stopped to talk with them. He wasn’t interested in having his soul saved tonight. He picked up his pace as he passed them.

“Hey,” a deep voice called. “Have you seen either of these people.”

Harris stopped. The man was taller than him, about six-three or four. Heavy set, almost brush cut dark hair, in a tight white t-shirt under a denim jacket that seemed to flow right into his jeans. Tattoos on the backs of his hands and one that crept out of the collar of his t-shirt.

“Have you seen either of these people.” The man handed Harris a flyer. He had letters tattooed on his knuckles.

There were two faces side-by-side on the flyer. One of the pictures was the woman’s he had seen on the telephone poles. The other was of himself.

The tall man did a quick double take. “Hey! It’s you. You’re the fucker.” He grabbed Harris by the front of tee-shirt. “Where is she?”

Harris pulled away.  His tee started to tear. “I’ve never met her.”

“Ma, we found the guy.” His eyes narrowed as he held Harris firmly by the arm.

The woman glared at him. “Sure is Dave. No mistaking that face.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harris’s heart was racing. “I’ve never seen that woman except on these flyers.” Should he say he was sorry for their loss or what. “But I’ve never met her.”

“Look asshole we know you were with her. Else wise why would her picture be on her Facebook page, eh?”

“I don’t know.”

Dave squeezed Harris’s arm harder. “I don’t know.” he mocked Harris’s voice. “Guys like you sure do know.”

Harris wriggled away.

“Anyone can take a picture.” He didn’t remember anyone taking his picture recently. He grabbed the flyer and looked closer. It was him. Last week. Friday or Saturday because he had on the Aquaman tee-shirt he’d worn to work those days. His smile made him look like a terrorist who had farted and hoping to laugh it off.

“Second thoughts asshole.” Dave shoved Harris hard against the wall of the subway station. “People take pictures so others can’t get away with things.”

“We know all about that.” David’s mother leered at Harris. She shrugged her shoulders, hefting her ample breasts a bit higher. “So you’re not getting with it this time buddy.”

“You see, it’s like this, asshole. I was talking to Frances mere minutes before she took this picture and posted it. We were waiting for her right around the corner. Our wedding rehearsal.”

Harris frowned.

“Oh yeah. Nothing coming to you.” Dave elbowed him hard in the ribs. “Maybe that’ll jog your memory.” He elbowed him again.

The mother began to go through Harris pockets. Pulled out his wallet. “Once we know who you are and where you live the police will be informed. You won’t get away with this.”

“Neither will you.” Harris snatched his wallet back before she could open it. “I’m calling them now.” He punched 911 into his cellphone. “This is assault. It’s all there too.” He nodded at what he hoped were security cameras.

“Yeah, sure.” Dave knocked Harris phone away. “Unless it’s hi-def they show shit.”

He backed Harris against the wall with his forearm under Harris’s chin. “Now where is she?”

“I told you I don’t know.” Harris could barely breathe.

“That innocent act don’t cut it with me mister. I’ve been on the inside long enough to know anyone can play innocent. Why I bet you’re the one behind all these other attacks too. That why you’re sweating, eh. Caught red-handed. I bet you’re that subway stalker. You look perv enough for that.” He tugged Harris’s ponytail hard with his free hand.

“The police are on their way.” A female voice came from behind them.

“What the …” Dave let go his choke hold.

“Better let him go. They can deal with him.” Dave’s mother pushed him away from Harris.

Harris slumped the ground and rubbed his throat. There were several people watching. Witnesses.

“Fucker you won’t get away with this.” Dave glowered at him. “If I have to go back inside for catching you, it’ll be worth it. I can plea bargain but you won’t be able to.”

He strode away a few feet away with his mother.

“I called the police. Are you okay.” The woman and another man helped Harris back to his feet. “We need better lighting around here. It sure isn’t safe anymore.”


Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr



This work is licensed under a

Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

The Night Tripper

20-fab01Dr. John’s Gris Gris is one of my favourite lps. I remember first hearing it & being fully pulled into the night tripper eeriness of the call and response echoes on the opening tack. Everything about it worked. The album made a big splash when it was released then he sort of lost footing, in the eyes of the critics anyway. I wish I still has my lps version but the stand alone cd is easier to replay – running just over 33 minutes it way too short & needs to be played two times in a row to appreciate it (much like Coltrane’s A Love Supreme).

20-fab02On an mp3 collection I have Babylon; Remedies – his next two lps that I didn’t heard until quite recently. The swamp cajun feel is there but not as strong as that that first lp. I enjoy then immensely. I threw in a couple of Youngbloods lps into this collection: Earth Music; Elephant Mountain – California music of the same time era – they play a mix of jug-band, blues, pop & even some rather jazzy stuff that is worth tracking down.

20-fab03Tucked away on two other mp3 collections are Dr. John’s Gumbo – his retro rock roots work; & In The Right Place: his ‘commercial’ break through that had sweet radio friendly & less eerie material.

20-fab04The other stand alone is his more recent Tribal – which I think won a grammy for roots music a few years ago. I bought it to hear what he was doing – much like recent work by Jackson Browne – I wanted to reconnect with what my past was doing now. Tribal is solid easy listening adult rock. Pleasant & reassuring – but not exploratory, unlike recent work by Leonard Cohen or Neil Young. Dr John was one of those guys who started out sort of counter-culture as the Night Tripper & quickly became adult middle-of-the-road. But it’s a nice road.



‘How will you know that till you step foot in it.’

‘Jack don’t pull that poor little old me crap. Now don’t forget to pick up the kids after school. You can drop them off at my Mother’s if you think they’ll get in the way of things.’

‘Nah they’ll be fine right here. Jack Jr enjoys a little drink. He’s near old enough now.’

‘Well they are your kids. No use fighting you on that. You do what you want with them.’

‘You bet your life I will.’

‘Don’t forget the Clarke’s across the street have a restraining order against you.’

‘How can I forget. The sign is still on the front lawn. The nerve of them assholes. The gun went of by accident. You believe me don’t you?’

‘The fact that you could hold a gun is a miracle.’

‘Damn rights.’

‘Don’t forget to walk the dog, clean out the kitty litter box, there’s a load of laundry to be hung and if you can find the time, you throw in the colored stuff. There’s no room in the fridge for food so I hope your hot dogs will find it cool enough in the basement.’

‘Of course they will. Now are you coming or going, staying or getting out of my sight.’

‘I’m getting out of your sight as fast as I can.’

‘Good good. I wish you’d stay but …’

‘Let’s not go over that again. I’m out of here as soon as I can get out of here. Have you seen my keys?’

‘Are they under the box of hot-dog buns?’

They lifted the box together.


‘’Maybe I put the cases of lager on top of them. No, on second though, I might have left them by the wine cellar. I wish you would give me my own key to that.’

‘Yeah in a million years. When I give you key to the gun safe.’


‘That’s right I changed the lock on the gun safe yesterday. Not taking any chances.’

‘Your sister’s forgiven me.’

‘Perhaps, but I haven’t. If you’d shot one of our kids you can bet your hide would hung out to dry.’ A smile broke across her face. ‘Now that would be a holiday worth hanging around for.’

‘You don’t mean that do you huggy momma?’

‘Of course not boozy poppa. You know I love you and your  useless hide.’

‘Could you leave pizza money?’

‘Sorry. You are on your own.’

‘What time am I supposed to pick up the kids?’

‘After school.’

‘And what time is that?’

‘Cripes do I have to write everything down for you. Here.’ She pulled a roll of paper out her purse. ‘Here is the full list. Times places phone numbers.’

‘You do think of everything. Now, if I have to get a hold of you?’

‘You’ll just have to suffer. You have three hours before you pick up the kids. While your at it, you could drop Gran off at the Home for the week-end. She needs to get out of the attic sometime.’

‘That is your decision I might remind you.’

‘Whatever.’ She grabbed her overnight bag and headed out to the car, Jack on her heels.

‘Is there anything else you’d like to tell me before you go huggy mama.’

‘Nothing that you don’t already know boozy poppa.’

‘You sure.’ he put his arms around her.

‘More than sure.’ she pushed him away. ‘You know I love you best when you aren’t in front me. Enjoy the holiday.’



on going 🙂 when new podcast are posted:  Disability after Dark  iTunes


March 4, Saturday, 8 pm: my first local feature in over two years: Glad Day Books


attending: Saturday, March 25: 9 a.m. 2017 TORONTO SPECFIC COLLOQUIUM


April season 3 FINALS – Friday April 15th Buddies in Bad Times – early show – 7pm startgames

June 9-10-11: attending: Capturing Fire 2017 – flight & hotel booked already


check out these poets from  Capturing Fire 2015 & 2016

August 31-Sept.3 – I have my ticket already


November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo



Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington – sweet,eh?

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

fall gold

Forgiveness = Victim Blaming

17-green-01A self-righteous person (usually cismale) opens fire with a weapon of choice and kills people. There is shock, tears, reporters asking witness/survivors ‘how did you feel’ moments after – as if someone is going to say ‘oh, I felt we deserved it. we had it coming.’ This is quickly followed by the call to forgive the alleged perpetrator because without forgiveness the healing can’t begin.

17-green-02Without forgiveness the victim now is blamed for their choice to feel anger or vengeance. This pattern repeats with variations. A woman who was raped presses charges & is asked why she hasn’t forgiven her rapist. When did forgiveness become letting the allegedly guilty party off the hook. How did letting people face the consequence of their actions become unfair & unreasonable.

17-green-03Several years ago a ‘straight’ man who was found guilty of manslaughter in the death of a gay man was released because the embarrassment he had suffered already was enough punishment. Why ruin your rapist’s promising life with this blot on his reputation. Forgiveness becomes permission to continue the behaviour. The lesson in being taught isn’t to change behaviour but to be more careful. To pick victims with less ‘power’ to defend themselves. Forgiveness only leads to healing if consequences are faced & changes are made. Which, as far as I can tell, hasn’t happened yet & of course that’s because the dead just aren’t forgiving enough.

17-green-04Not that I think one should dwell on on things & never move on. There is a need for a personal emotional release to go forward. But to have someone, anyone, demand or prescribe forgiveness doesn’t help with that emotional release.


Dead Already

he was dead already

that’s why I shot him

I thought he was ignoring me

that he was refusing to answer

a refusal that showed an utter disregard

a lack of respect for my position

I have every right to be expected

to be listened to

to be obeyed

without questions

without hesitation

so when he refused

to acknowledge my command

to wake the fuck up

to roll off that bed

to lay face down on the floor

with his hands behind his back

I shot him

I panicked

when he didn’t move

I thought he was plotting

that he was waiting for me to get closer

so he could pull off

his oxygen mask

pull out his intravenous tubes

and strangle me with them

that he would grab a scalpel

and cut me to ribbons

I sensed he was faking it

to lure me to my death

so I shot him in self-defence

because he was unresponsive

he’ll never do that again

I taught him a lesson

let that be a lesson to anyone

who thinks being dead

is a way to avoid

our righteous violence

to protect the moral values

of the world we want to live in



on going 🙂 when new podcast are posted:  Disability after Dark  iTunes


March 4, Saturday, 8 pm: my first local feature in over two years: Glad Day Books


attending: Saturday, March 25: 9 a.m. 2017 TORONTO SPECFIC COLLOQUIUM


April season 3 FINALS – Friday April 15th Buddies in Bad Times – early show – 7pm start


June 9-10-11: attending: Capturing Fire 2017 – flight & hotel booked already


check out these poets from  Capturing Fire 2015 & 2016

August 31-Sept.3 – I have my ticket already


November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo



Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington – sweet,eh?

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr


Sacred Site


Started a new set of prompts – I love lists of things – this one will prove to be endlessly productive for another couple of years – 227 Rules For Monks

6 Not to build a housing exceeding 2.70 metres by 1.60 metres (2.95 yards by 1.74 yards), without the agreement of the saṃghaa, and doing harm to living beings, or not providing enough space to turn around it.



Sacred Site

this sacred site

is in our way

it isn’t sacred to us

your infantile regressive

belief system

will not stand in the way

of our profit line

a profit line that doesn’t respect

the land you’ve drawn your line in

do protest

the publicity is good for us

for those who won’t put up

with your emotional blackmail

your sacred temple has served it purpose

we will obliterate

your temples churches mosques library

loot the museums

sell your sacred relics

to the highest bidder

they only have monetary value

as worthless receptacles

of superstitious weakness

all these walls will coming tumbling down

the bigger the more dust

nothing lasts

so why preserve these frail mementos

make way for money

for might

faith needs no vessel

your heart is sacred

for as long as it beats

then you too become a worthless vessel

to be ground to dust


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My Insensitivity


Law 19: Do Not Offend the Wrong Person

My Insensitivity

it was something I wrote?

I’ll have to face the consequences

no I don’t wish I hadn’t said it

not that it was actually me

it was a character

it was true to that character

not necessarily true to me

as person

some people can’t tell the difference

what can I do

not write for that p.o.v

force every character to reflect

my personal perspective

or do I have to mutter tigger warning

every time I open my mouth

every time I write something

or was it the fact that I might offend them

that offended them

maybe it wasn’t anything I wrote

but my suspicion they were too sensitive

too reactionary

and that I was going to go ahead anyway

indifferent to them

was its my arrogance

my willingness to be so cavalier

with their feelings about it

I don’t even know who they are

but clearly they hold a position of power

that’s my regret

to be judged by a stranger

deemed unworthy

not suited to be included

which isn’t fine by me

so it’s not an even playing field

but I’m not a person with power

I can’t be bothered striking back

that would make a bad situation worse

15-texture01Some of these Laws were odd to write about because the basic premise was one I didn’t fully agree with in the first place. Law 19 about not offending is one of those. The fact that I’m gay is enough to offend many people – even the right people 🙂 The fact that I’m an old queer offends young queers. What’s a boy to do?

15-texture02I don’t go out of my way to offend. Some of this piece looks at cultural appropriation. I wouldn’t write from a black p.o.v or a female p.o.v – though I do include characters of other cultures in my fiction I write almost always from male p.o.v. partly to avoid being criticized for not getting say, the female Asian character correct. Though in Lazarus Kiss – some sections are from a female p.o.v. You’ll have to read it to see if I succeeded.

The nature of ‘trigger’ warnings is tricky. I have a piece about interracial sex – do I have to give a trigger warning about that? I performed a piece about the death of my father & was later told I should have missed a trigger warning first as someone was upset when it brought back memories of their father’s death. WTF.

15-texture03I’ve had people who were disappointed that a piece they liked, that touched them, was in fact not based on my actual life – they weren’t ready for poetry that wasn’t confessional. If the feelings were that authentic that’s good enough for me. The notion that poetry can be fiction doesn’t go over well anymore. Sometimes poets are story tellers. That doesn’t make them any less authentic.



I don’t think this piece, as it stand now, is finished – it covers too many variations. If I were to perform it, or include it in a chapbook I would make the issues less muddled, or spit it into two or three pieces to develop those ideas more clearly.




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Lazarus Kiss.07

Sis amplexibus Amor alios mututa memini et amoris in mutationes memini.

May you be embraced by a love beyond recall that alters others

and a love within recall that alters you.


*7 Tuesday*

It had been a crap day at work. When Harris arrived the elevators weren’t working which meant a ten floor walk up for him and his co-workers, for others it was worse. Firms over the twelfth floor gave their staff the morning off. The grim olive-green stairwells were filled with the echo of young moderns climbing to success, hard shoes scraping on the cement stairs with their coffee cups held aloft ahead of them to spread the hope of the retail way.

He spent the day dealing with Santa’s Sex Toy Shoppe. The company still wasn’t happy with the with the way the shadows looked in certain product photos. In particular the Santa-faction dolls. These were semi-inflatable, anatomically correct Santas – various outfits were optional.

The life size bodies were a soft to the touch plastic. Limbs were fully articulated to move them into nearly any position. The semi-inflatable part was the cock – the more you pumped it the larger, harder it got. More expensive models had fully usable mouths, anuses that were removable and dishwater safe. You could order the Nasty Santa, the Jungle Santa, the Tradition Santa or several others. There was a Mrs. Claus and even elves in the Santa-faction line.

Santa’s Sex Shoppe had supplied the photos but hoped that Harris was be able to tweak the shadows into more appealing shadows. They especially were concerned that Santa’s balls presently looked more like mistletoe than testicles. Their 100 per cent guarantee for Santa-faction required the products be up to certain standards.

The Santa-faction semi-inflatables offered special by hand detailing and life like pubic hair, all placed by hand. That’s what the elves were really making all year.

The elevators were working by lunch time but Harris was still shadow tweaking his client and opted to have one of his co-workers bring him pizza slices and milk. For substantial energy he had a coffee from the staff caf. It was good enough after he cleaned the machine out for what looked like the first time in months. He didn’t understand why it was so hard for people to clean up a little after them. No, they would rather gripe how inconsiderate others were.

Harris ate his meat lover’s pizza and scanned one of the free subway newspapers. The slices were oddly soggy, chewy and dry all at the same time but did taste vaguely of pepperoni and salt.

He stopped scanning to read an item because of the headline.

“Subway Assaulter Strikes at Greendale

The subway assaulter attacked his fifth victim near the Greendale Station around 8 p.m. Saturday night.

As in the other attacks the victim was walking home when he was accosted from behind. The victim, Darrell Jones, 54, a custodian at St. Michael’s Hospital, was thrown to ground, kicked about the head and shoulders and left unconscious. He remains in stable but serious condition.

Like previous victims he didn’t see or hear his attacker. The police say there is no pattern to these random attacks other than they have happened within a few blocks of a subway station. The victims have varied in age, race and gender.

Security camera footage has offered no clues. The public is reminded to be on the alert when exiting a subway.

Anyone with any information is asked to contact the police.”

Greendale was his nearest stop. Where was he Saturday night? He couldn’t remember. His weekends were so dull he couldn’t tell one from the other. He’d worked that day. That he knew for sure. He finished his strawberry carmel blizzard milkshake. After which it was time to get back to shadow tweaking.

To get Santa-faction line done to their satisfaction he had to work on butt cheek, breast and other bodily crevice shadows. The elves’ cocks couldn’t cast a bigger shadow than Santa’s, their well-packed elf-tights had to be tweaked to call attention to their packages yet not detract from the product.

When he was finished the client called Harris a digital miracle worker.

Harris wondered how much of a market there was for this. How many boxes of extra-thick candy cane cocks did they sell.

By the end of the day his eyes throbbed, his fingers at rest moved aimlessly looking for keys to tap. He had an ache in his calves from too much hunched sitting that he couldn’t stretch away. His stomach was queasy from bad food, his forehead felt feverish to him. Even Dusan remarked that he wasn’t looking none to happy.

On the subway home he longed to get get out of his clothes. They felt confining, itchy. The elevator at his condo was working so he was spared that eighteen floor walk up.

He undid his ponytail and dropped his clothes on the floor as he removed them. Shedding the day. Ten minutes in the shower and his shoulders began to loosen up a little. Tonight his favorite pine body wash smelled like rank perfume and not the wide open forest he looked forward to. Despite being freshly washed his hair felt heavy.

He pulled on a bathrobe and sat on the edge of his bed. He rubbed his feet as hard as he could but there was an tiredness in them that radiated up though his entire body. Dried and dressed only in his favorite Spiderman boxers he paced the apartment. Restless and looking for distraction from this penetrating ache. Was he coming down with a summer cold? Oh great – the flu.

The TV didn’t offer anything to distract him. After working on his computer all day at work nothing online appealed to him. Yet he couldn’t sit still. Pacing from one room to the next, sitting on the sofa, trying to rest on the bed, opening the fridge. Food didn’t appeal to him. Nothing appealed to him. Yes, he was coming down with something.

Who had he met today? Was that it? He hadn’t had his infatuation fix of the day. How could he have missed that not happening? Then again he never noticed it before when it occured, but now with what his Dad has told him he was aware.

Busy day in doors at work had kept him out the public eye. He’d been shut down on the subway he wouldn’t have felt a derailment. He had been closed off to it and this was the result. Withdrawal. He was going though withdrawal. He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror but didn’t see anything unusual – eyes looked normal. Looked at his arms and the veins weren’t popping up. His dick hadn’t sprouted vampire teeth. Was this ache the sign of his craving?

He lay on the bed and tried to jack off but his hands didn’t have grip tight enough to get him hard. Did he still have that picture of Laura. Nah, it was probably in one of the storage bins in his locker in the basement, if he still had it at all.

Where could go to make sure he got his fix. The Supermarket. Perfect. Could he make it happen if he had to? This might be a good time for that experiment.

He pulled on sweat shorts, a Batman tee that didn’t smell too bad, flip-flops and headed out. As he walked the few blocks to supermarket he noticed the posters for the missing woman. A couple of them partly postered over. Others had been defaced with mustaches, eye glasses. One suggested they check out the strip clubs on Yonge Street. The defacing made him sad. It was bad enough this woman was missing and that her family was clearly looking for her. To deface the posters was like making fun of all this heartbreak. Harris just didn’t understand humans.


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