Doves

I don’t listen to the radio, nor do I watch any music video channels so I don’t know how popular Doves are or were. At one time I was picking up a British pop magazine – Mojo? – that often included a compilation cd. This was were I first head Cold Play’s Yellow. The magazine had an ‘if you like … you’ll like’ feature. I liked Cold Play (then) & the ‘if you like’ listed Doves. I later read somewhere that Doves toured with Cold Play.

In my collection I have all as stand alone’s: Lost Souls, the last broadcast, lost sides (eps, singles), Some Cities, Kingdom of Rust. The music & lyrics are emotionally compelling & adult. This isn’t, to my ear, radio pop fodder. The sound is modern Procol Harum – dense, often piano based. Lead singer has a warm baritone. Songs feature fine guitar work & harmonies. They dealt with relationships, aging & often just fun in the sun.

The song writing, music & lyrics progresses from cd to cd as they stretch & mature. This is adult pop as opposed to Cold Play with its more populist appeal. If you like Doves you’ll also like Elbow, People in Planes, Super Furry Animals, The Editors.

I picked up Nick Drake’s hit collection Way To Blue after reading more & more about him in the press at one time. Died young, music nearly forgotten until a song was used in a TV commercial & his star rose higher & higher as a result, too bad he was dead & didn’t enjoy it at the time. His work is moody, pleasant, nicely produced & romantic. Reminds me some of Cat Stevens.

 

Treasure

Tom stood silent in the bedroom door way. He watched as the two – a parent and child – went through the dresser drawers one by one – pulling out his socks, his underwear.

He didn’t recognize the parent, at least not from behind. Her pale hair stuck by sweat to the nape of her neck. She stood up abruptly from the bottom drawer she had been rooting in. His bottom drawer.

‘I found something.’ A silver box flashed in her hand.

‘Oh Mummy you’re so good at finding treasure.’ the child replied. It was Monica. One of June’s classmates.

‘Did you find anything?’ Mummy put the silver box into her purse.

‘Not yet.’

‘Try the bed side table. There’s cash there.’ Tom stepped into the room.

‘Oh shit.’ Mummy stepped towards Tom. ‘Don’t think you’ve got much hope here sweetheart. One word from you and I’ll scream. I say I caught you molesting Monica. I’ll …’

Tom’s  fist flashed out, struck Mummy on the chin. She fell back on the bed.

‘Lady that isn’t going to wash here. If it were a Danny, maybe, but even then don’t try it.’

‘Don’t hurt my Mummy.’ Monica flew at him swinging and scratching and kicking. ‘We were just looking for treasure. That’s all. We’ll put it back. We will.’

Tom pushed Monica firmly against the wall with one hand and punched numbers into the phone with the other.

‘Hi Max. It’s Sgt Malloy. Got a robbery suspect here …. at my house … yeah, never get a day off do we? … Birthday and all … might want to run a check and see if there’s a pattern here … no sirens please, don’t want to scare the clowns.’

Mummy sat up on the bed. Tom released Monica and she rushed to her. They hugged.

The sounds of the birthday party came through the open window.

‘For they’re a jolly good fellows

which nobody can deny.’

‘Who.’

‘Nobody.’

‘Nobody can what?’

‘Nobody can deny.’

 

Chapbooks available: http://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

meandchap

kiss314257567_1162384753819933_3271661288579707843_oon going 🙂 when new podcast are posted:  Disability after Dark  iTunes

April season 3 FINALS – Friday April 15th Buddies in Bad Times – early show – 7pm start – Featuring Queen Sheba. Slam winner gets trip to Capturing Fire & maybe coffee with me in DC.games

http://www.queerslam.com/season-3-dates.html

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

https://capfireslam.org

check out these poets from  Capturing Fire 2015 & 2016

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

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November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo

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The Soft Slip of Hot-Sauced Flesh

It was with anticipation & gratitude that I went to the Supermarket Grill to co-feature at the March – World Poetry Day edition of Hot-Sauced Words. I arrived at the grill with time to have a meal – excellent mango salad & a great burger. I glanced over my set – made some mental edits – with the Kindle it’s impossible to make actual edits. I was ready.

After greeting the warm, receptive audience host James Dewar set the poetry challenge for the night – a poem about the weather from the weatherman’s point of view. The show started with several strong open-stagers. Here’s a smattering of lines: silence as passing, the silence of keeping your mouth shut for once, text message silence, sounds like gunshots under the ground, bundled like ghosts, a wafer of desire dissolves, attention subway passengers there is a delay at Royal York – the operator has forgotten how to drive a subway, of the strangers one or two may be insane, an odourless glass office sits in it’s place, pale blue coat, pretty girls are often seen but seldom found. (this line gave me chills), I am the things thrown away, I’ll cover you with death, I’ll drain you when I’m good & ready, I’ve killed enough for one night, contented murmur of Friday evening diners, standing all the home with heavy bags, Hank who stank, murdered the piano musically to pieces, shivering from sun poisoning.

After a break, in which I sold enough chapbooks to cover the cost of supper – I was first up. I like starting with Almost Dead – it gives me a real emotional text to get my performance juice flowing, hits the audience with, what I hope is, a sharp social punch. Each piece worked well, for me, I could feel reactions to my endings. Chalk & Hard On got the expected laughs. Breaking in Grief is a bitter sweet emotional tone to end a set on – emotive in a way none of the other pieces try to be. I did what I call my ‘stand and deliver set’ – little talk about the pieces with just a dash of ‘in your pants raunch.’

After another break Brenda Crews took the stage. She is a dance & deliver performer – costume changes, wigs, a Martha Grahamesque piece – she was the opposite of me. The audience sure gots its money’s worth. Some lines: blanket of black feathers, she held the tide line in her hands, crazy old woman at the edge of time, she who turns life into art with her gaze, sunset spilling out of her eyes, seeking a freedom that is terrifying, the way we enslave ourselves, serpents of protection or do I hallucinate, the soft slip of flesh etched in stone, written in the night blindly.

This was followed by the weather writing challenge: who can say where the tornado’s toe will touch down, what was I thinking – I was think about the money, dark ruminations until spring, it was very cloudy outside the day we started to over throw the government, today we are in for a real shit storm. The winner was Zak with the amazing stach.

It was a great night. Heather Babcock and I created a glamour zone at our table. Brenda Clews was kind enough to video my set, which is probably on Facebook by now. It’s always good to have real proof one actually performed. Chap books were sold, even some paypal orders the next day. My next performance: if the prevailing pattern continues it’ll be another 3 years before any series will come knocking.

the video: http://wp.me/p1RtxU-2hm

Breaking In Grief

he talks of wearing

his dead son’s sneakers

bought a month before the son’s

step off into oblivion

new shoes a sign of hope

of a future planned for

not of a life too soon to be ended

they found the sneakers

still in their box

in the cupboard

worn once to try them on

designer expensive

too nice to toss or donate

so he’ll wear them

it gives me the creeps

practicality in the face of catastrophe

 

I visited home

the summer after my dad died

his death was sudden

it was the body that gave out

he didn’t go out of his way

to find that oblivion

I go through his clothes

to help my sister winnow out

throw out donate

to share some memories

I end up keeping a couple of jackets

that actually fit me

 

the shirt and pants

were easy to part with

most of the shoes too

my Dad was all business

when it came to shoes

his idea of comfort wear was

hard onyx red oxfords

there was a new onyx pair

only worn to try them on

they sort of fit me

very stiff and inflexible

never being broken in

expensive

I take them

 

I wear them a few times

then drop them in a clothing box

they don’t fit

right size but wrong shape

maybe that’s why my Dad never

wore them either

 

the life my Dad hoped I would fit into

was also the right size

but the wrong shape

I was unwilling to do the work

that would break me in

so it would be a comfortable fit

 

I meet my friend one day

he’s sporting wildly neon runners

these were his son’s

a year after the suicide

he wears them

knowing he’ll never leave that grief behind

but ready

to walk forward with it

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#DadBodHot

On a recent Disability After Dark, Andrew Gurza talks with @Keah_Maria who originated the # #DisabledAndCute & how that # has impacted her online presence. Never having experienced a ‘spike’ of interest for any # of mine I was interested to hear how she has made it work. Andrew also strives to find a catchy # & I wonder how many is too many? Who wants posts that are all # just to get attention?

For both of them the more personally they are invested in the politic of the # the more they feel it will be effective. I do know when I write about east coast & #CapeBreton I do get a few retweets but never have I seen a major jump in interest or followers as a result. Perhaps I need to create a more detailed # that might do more work for me.

There are hundreds of #queerpoets out there, ditto for anything that includes gay, lgbtq, black etc. To work the # has to stand out enough to create a market for itself rather than try to tap into one that is already there.

Andrew and Keah are creating awareness for their disability & claiming a space for that awareness. So I had to think of something that reflected a greater social statement but that also dealt with the physical reality of my gay life. Agism & lookism are two issues that underpin much of gay culture. Older is hot only if the body is well-toned or the cock is large. Otherwise please hide your tired saggy old body where it doesn’t scare the twinks.

Not that I don’t like those idealized bodies but I prefer the ordinary, average joe type. There are sites devoted to bears – large hairy chubby guys – but even there age is a factor. I’m not that chunky, not that hairy either – such is life. In an on-line chat with an average joe he said that one of things he found most attractive about me was my great Dad bod.

Great Dad bod! Me! I guess that’s true. The more I thought about it the more I loved that term – Dad bod. So thanks to that guy, Andrew & Keah I’ve coined my own # – #DadBodHot.

It’s About Time

call back later

not now

soon

another day

eventually

not this morning

just a second

don’t wait up for me

it’ll be worth the wait

antic-i-pation

don’t be late

night time is the right time

off-the-clock

the waiting game

when the stars align

premature

past due

on the dot

a watched pot

it’s over when it’s over

hold your horses

whats your hurry

it’s about time

it’s now or never

Chapbooks available: http://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

meandchap

kiss314257567_1162384753819933_3271661288579707843_oon going 🙂 when new podcast are posted:  Disability after Dark  iTunes

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

spec

April season 3 FINALS – Friday April 15th Buddies in Bad Times – early show – 7pm start – Featuring Queen Sheba. Slam winner gets trip to Capturing Fire & maybe coffee with me in DC.games

http://www.queerslam.com/season-3-dates.html

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

https://capfireslam.org

check out these poets from  Capturing Fire 2015 & 2016

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

fec17-header

https://www.facebook.com/events/526940540845331/

November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo

nanowrimo_2016_webbadge_winner

http://nanowrimo.org/

money

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

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Beware of Falling Rocks

samprules2

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 The 13 saṃghādisesas – 11 Not to encourage a bhikkhu who works to divide the saṃgha.

Beware of Falling Rocks

thinking for yourself

is a good thing

thinking only of yourself

isn’t the same good thing

I appreciate originality of thought

but not of disruption

when it seems

all you are interest in

is disruption

shaking things up

by destroying them

that is not productive

not conductive to growth

when we spend more time

repairing or building anew

as opposed to building

on what we already have

if what we already have

is so unsound

it will fall of its own according

and not

according to your judgement

so you can stop

jumping up and down on the earth

you may dislodge a few rocks

you can’t bring down the mountain

and those rocks

will only fall on you

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Popular

Popular

Law 23: Concentrate Your Forces

what do I want

to be heard

to be popular

to be respected

to be legendary

maybe get paid

or merely to get laid

not that these are impossible

but

when I expect one to lead to the other

nothing happens

that’s why I never trust

a man’s poem

about the magic of the goddess

about his belief in the rights

of a woman

I know he’s saying what it takes

to get laid

that ode to fidelity

has all the authenticity of greeting card

This is a second & incomplete take on Law 23. In AA there is a line about ‘primary purpose’ & in this piece I look at what, as writers, our primary purpose is – to concentrate one’s forces toward that purpose is productive but when there is not ones elf purpose, or aim, focus becomes diffused & the effect is diminished. There’s a difference, for me, for performing to perform, than performing to advance my ‘career.’

So I start asking ‘what do I want’ – when my aim isn’t clouded by too many other expectations I enjoy the moment more. But if I’m thinking – I sure hope that these are the pieces people will like I’ve lost momentum, I’ve become a people pleaser & am not presenting my true self. Not that don’t people to like me but I’d rather be heard than liked, if you get me.

One of reasons I now publish & perform as TOpoet.ca is to take personality out of the picture. It allows me, as much as possible, to step back & let the words, the poetry itself speak.

Often I hear & read poets who are more interested in getting grants, in getting credits towards their university degrees than they are in the actual writing. Is their piece about the heartbreak of your mother’s death a real emotion or one only felt for an assignment. This piece is more like two pieces as it steps into the ‘magic of the goddess.’

Incomplete because I didn’t feel what it was saying was worth pushing it any further. The sort of thing I’d discard but for the purpose of the blog I’m not afraid to show writing warts & all. The tone was getting to judgmental as well. Guys want to get laid, such is life. But one of the reason I cut back on the reading series I attended was the number of men who would be so creepily attentive of young, usually pretty, female poets. ‘I love your writing. Let’s have a drink & talk about your work.’

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Lazarus Kiss.12

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.

kiss

*11  Friday*

He didn’t know what time it was when his cell rang and rang.

“Hello?” he answered groggily.

“Mr. Stevens? It’s Detective Val Alverez. I would like you come down the station this morning.”

“Right.” He sat up on the couch scratching his belly. His entire body itched. “What time?”
“As soon as you are able to.”

“Okay. A threatening note was left on my door the other night.”

“Note?”
“Yeah, when I got home from the hospital last night.”
“You mean Wednesday night. This is Friday.”

Harris shook his head to clear it. “Oh. Those pain killers did a number on my sense of time. Wednesday night and I found something else too.”

“On your door?”
“No, the recycle bin. An invitation to Frances Green’s wedding.”

“Interesting. Bring it in with you.”

He got dressed. He figured the tee with the non-exploding planet Krypton was subtle enough for offical questioning. Had couple of vanilla fudge walnut Pop Tarts and was ready. He opened the apartment door to leave and broke into a cold sweat. What was waiting for him out there? He should have had the police send a car for him, for his protection, to protect the evidence he had with him. He went back to the kitchen, grabbed a spoon, opened the freezer and ate half a litre of chocolate raspberry ripple ice cream.

He checked his shoulder bag to make sure he had the envelope with the note and invitation. His hands itched. He went to the bathroom and peed again. He went back to the kitchen and wolfed down a couple of hand-dipped chocolate marshmallow cookies. He went back to the door and opened it again.

He locked it behind him and walked quickly to the elevator. No one got on with him. He was safe. He raced to the subway. Kept his sunglasses on for the ride. Got off, stopped at the Tim’s across the street from the police station. Large triple triple, a danish and an apple fritter and he felt he was ready to cross the street.

When Detective Alverez was told that he was there, she came out and took him to her office.

Harris passed her the envelope, that had both the wedding invitation and the note that had been taped to his door.

Det. Alverez nodded. She read the note. “Seems pretty clear who this came from right. Do you know how he got into your building?”

“None.”
“The Pazzoni’s own Mamma Pazzoni and Son Pizza. If you’ve ever ordered before you are in their system. That’s what we caught him for before – delivering more that pizza.”

“I usually order from them. Just the other day. Their spicy garlic bread isn’t bad.” He could visualize their TV ad Mamma Pazzoni smiling at the camera and Son behind her with his thick arms crossed.

“And this?” she tapped the wedding invation.

“I have no idea. Really.”

“Mr. Stevens I asked you down here to put your mind at ease by telling you that you are no longer a person of interest to us. Your DNA cleared you as the subway assaulter.”

“I was a suspect?” Harris glanced around the tiny office to keep from scratching. Grey steel file cabinets. Pictures of policemen at picnics, riding bikes; of her shaking hands with the mayor, a past prime minister.

“Oh yes, very much. You were there around the time the last attack happened.”

“I was!”
“Let me show you.” she flipped open a lap top. “This is from the security cameras at the Greendale south exit.”

She turned it to face him. Figures came in and out. The time, down to the second jerked along in the corner of the picture. A man exited. She stopped the picture.

“Anyone you recognize?”

“Hey! That’s me. I look a bit wasted, don’t I. On my way home from Story.”

She let the picture advance a few more frames till he was stopped by a woman. The woman spoke to him.

“How about her? Nice of you both to stand perfectly still for the cameras.”

Harris peered at the woman. “Oh my God! It’s her. Frances. The pictures on the flyer didn’t do her justice.”

He sees himself take out his cell phone to check on it. Next he points to the other side of the subway.

“Am I giving her directions?”

“I think so.” she stopped the picture and tapped the mouse. The picture zoomed into his hand. “The angle isn’t great but looks like you googled a map for her. Actually we know you did – we checked your phone records.”

The woman squeezed his arm and he moved away from her. Another man bushed past them. Her purse seemed to get caught on the man’s elbow.

Detective Alverez froze the picture again.

“You recognize him?” she let the picture move allow more of the man’s face yo be revealed. A brief glance of it as he turned to them.

“No.”

“That’s Darrell Jones. Not too long after he passed you he was killed.”

“Whoa.”

“This puts you at the right place and at the right time.” She let the picture continue.

He and the woman walked a few steps talking together. They stopped. They kept talked. She touched his arm again then showed him her credit card, quickly put it back in her wallet and took out her cellphone.

“I don’t remember any of this at all.”

“Seeing it doesn’t bring anything back to you?” Detective Alverez sounded as if she didn’t believe him. “Doesn’t jog your memory at all?”

“No. Like, she’s attractive enough but …”

The woman wrote on a piece of paper and put it into his hoodie pocket.

“So that’s where that came from! The invitation.”

He walks out of camera sight. The women talks on her cellphone she she walks out of camera range. Detective Alverez fast forwarded to about ten minutes later when the woman is seen walking quickly past the station. Another fast forward and the woman is seen again entering via the north exit at Dewar.

Harris was stunned.

“Yes, she did get on. Whatever happened to her you are in the clear. There was DNA evidence in the attack on Darrell Jones. It doesn’t match yours. We don’t know about her’s. Now that we know who she is we’ll contact her.”

“I guess I’m relieved. So that’s how I got the wedding invite with her phone number.”

The Detective started the loop over again.

“You positive you don’t remember anything.”

“Not much after I left Story. Honest. It had been a long day at work. I was finishing up work on an online catalogue for Santa’s Sex Toy Shoppe.” He never got tired of saying ‘Santa’s Sex Toy Shoppe.’

Detective Alverez laughed. “I can see how you might remember that.”

“It was a hot day and I dropped into Story for a couple drinks.”

“Only a couple?”

“Yeah a few beers and shooters. It was happy shooter hour.”

“Do women often usually stop you in the street to give you their names and phones numbers?”

“I suppose.” Would she understand the family curse? “I often discover them in my shoulder bag days later. Names and numbers of women I can’t recall.”

“But one on an invitation to her own wedding?” Alverez shook her head. “No wonder women get bitter with guys like you around. Are you aware of how much nerve it can take do what she did. Only to have you not even remember her. You are such an asshole.”

Harris was started. “That’s off the record I presume. It’s not as if I asked her for it.”

“Yeah. Now, about David Pazzoni. It should surprise you but he has a record. He’s done time and charges against him will be pursued. You want me to add this …” she motioned to the threatening note “to the case against him?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry his gal ditched him but I had nothing to do with that.”

“You’ll probably have to testify. The defense will have access to this security footage.”

“Which only proves I spoke to her. Right.”

“Correct though it proves you have a bad memory. They love witnesses with bad memories.”

 

 

Can’t wait to read the whole thing? order the PDF for $5.00 – paypal.me/TOpoet – say you want Kiss

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Delius Dvorak Davies

If you’ve heard of Delius it’s probably because of the Kate Bush song. He’s one of those British composers without a world-wide biggest hit to keep his name known outside the UK. He is a pastoral impressionist – similar to Debussy but more ‘land’ bound. I have a 2 cd set of his Orchestral Works. Titles like ‘Summer Night on the River’ tell you what you are in for. Calm, sedate & sweet music with some melodies of traditional folk music woven in. I heard In a Summer Garden on the radio & the delicate warmth & insect-wing-buzz flute sold me on him.

Now Anton Dvorak is a different kettle (drum) of fish – though he also makes extensive & amazingly stirring use of folk melodies in his Slavonic Dances. I have two versions of these – one for dual pianos & one orchestrated. Love them & they are excellent for getting the imagination going & the fingers flying over the keyboard. Excellent writing music. In my collection I have the Piano Trios, String Quintets, Slavonic Dances Piano, orchestral Slavonic Dances, Biblical Songs, Symphonies,  in a mp3 collection Legends (along with Maxwell Davies Symphonies & some Grieg), Piano/Violin/Cello Concertos.

Unlike Delius, some Dvorak has taken on war-horse status: his New World Symphony a symphony orchestra standard with it sweeping melodies & stirring emotionality. Like Tchaikovsky he has a love of folk melodies and they permeate his most popular works. Also a romantic Dvorak doesn’t get as emotionally over-wrought as Tchaikovsky.

I heard one of the piano trios on the radio & found a double set at Sam’s – remember Sam’s? Those were the days when one would shop in a store for music & find it. The trios are sweet chamber music, as are the string quintets. I love the interplay in string quintets & quartets. One gets a true sense of the cooperation between musicians in these small ensemble pieces.

Legends is one of several orchestra suites which lead me to add the Greig to this cd to balance the Russian with some Norwegian. A good blend. Peter Maxwell Davis is a 20th century British composer. Highly regarded & revered. As a fan of movie music I was taken by his music for Ken Russell’s The Devils. Did a bit of a search & on iTunes found a set of his symphonies. Tense as opposed to easy listening – he captures the anxiety of the world around him. Compelling and never soothing.

Party Time

Eggie and Peggie clambered into the front of the van. As always the super baggy pants of Eggie caught on the window handle.

‘Shit.’

‘Careful a-hole we don’t have time to repair those.’

‘Yes I know. Fuck why do we have to wear these to the party? There’s enough room in back of here to change.’

‘Right and have some kid pop in and catch you with your clown pants down around your clown ankles.’

‘Stop talking dirty or we won’t get there.’

Eggie started the van and drove.

‘You know where it is?’ Peggie squeezed through the seats and to the back of the van.

‘No. You wrote the address down somewhere.’ Eggie stopped the van to find the contract for the party. ‘Right. Is this a one or a five?’

Peggie put down the package of balloons she had opened. ‘It’s a 1 one.’

‘Okay. Party of 30-40. Mixed parents and kids. God I hate it when there are too many parents there. They’re worse than kids.’

The hiss of the helium filling balloons hovered through the van.

‘1415 Dry Meadows. That’s north of here?’

‘Head for the 401 but turn off once you get to Ellsmere.’

‘One of those new sections.’

‘I suppose.’

‘Twins. Well that’s be very special.’

‘What are they’re names’

‘Jeff and June.’

Peggie wrote the names on the balloons.

‘No special requests was there?’

‘Did I write anything on the contract?’

Eggie read the rest of the form. ‘Nope. Just show up and be festive.’

‘Don’t sound so …’

‘What?’

‘Dispirited. No one likes sad clowns.’

‘Why not? Now that would be an act. The unhappy clowns. We could arrive in bandages, pull dead rabbits from our casts.’

‘Happy pays the rent.’

‘I wish we could go back to …’

‘Don’t say it. I swore I’d never wear another corset in my life. I’d much rather be Peggie than Mistress Peg Dominatrix.’

‘But you looked so hot in stilettos.’

‘Almost as hot as you did in that dog collar. Now drive. Don’t want to be late for this.’

‘Perish the thought we’d disappoint these tots. Oops not tots Eleven years old. Maybe we are in the wrong costumes.’

 

Chapbooks available: http://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

meandchap

kiss314257567_1162384753819933_3271661288579707843_oon going 🙂 when new podcast are posted:  Disability after Dark  iTunes

featuring: Tuesday, March 21: 7:30 p.m. Hot-Sauced Words –http://www.hotsaucedwords.ca/

https://www.facebook.com/events

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

spec

April season 3 FINALS – Friday April 15th Buddies in Bad Times – early show – 7pm start – Featuring Queen Sheba. Slam winner gets trip to Capturing Fire & maybe coffee with me in DC.games

http://www.queerslam.com/season-3-dates.html

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

https://capfireslam.org

check out these poets from  Capturing Fire 2015 & 2016

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

fec17-header

https://www.facebook.com/events/526940540845331/

November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo

nanowrimo_2016_webbadge_winner

http://nanowrimo.org/

money

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Hot-Sauced Sermon

Putting together the Hot-Sauced set I’ve started with the bones of my Hot Damn! set. I’m keeping some of the pieces, cutting some to create a different flow feeling. The bulk will come from the new chapbook but I’m including a different pieces & even adding a Laws piece that isn’t in the chapbook.

Pieces, at this point will be: Dead Already, Give Generously, Chalk It Up To Experience, Square Root, Win/Win, Re-Creation, Spoilers, After The Falling, Hard On, Sermon on the Mount, Breaking in Grief.

I cut my favorite ‘Man in the Moon’ to make this set less ‘in your pants’ sexually. Sometimes even I like to hold back a little. I will start the same way & end the same way though. The added pieces echo off the ones I’ve kept. Square Root, like Chalk, is about a math teacher. Sermon, like Breaking, is a piece about my Dad.

In going over the pieces I’ve stepped back from the angry old coot to give the ‘no holds barred’ pieces more space to be heard. When every other piece is pitched at the same intensity all people hear is the intensity & not the words.

As I did for Hot Damn! my Hot-Sauced set will available as a PDF for $2.00. Checked my Merch Store page for further info: http://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

Sermon on the Mount

when I was a child

I remember the excitement of the day

Jesus was installed

arms open to greet you

 

my Dad was a sales manager

for Memorial Gardens

a cross Canada chain of cemeteries

I grew up under that shadow

the grave-digger’s son

not that he dug graves

that shadow didn’t bother me

I was an odd child already

the occult merely added a distracting layer

 

the cemetery was divided into grottos

separated by low hedges

bronze plaques instead of tombstones

was the trademark Memorial Gardens look

that and the white marble

religious statues for each of the grottos

DaVinci’s Last Supper in the Gethsemane

 

greeting people at the entrance

was Christ

arms out spread

for the Sermon on the Mount

 

for a first few years

while things were being put into green shape

the Gardens were my playground

I remember the excitement of the day

Jesus was installed

the garden workers pushing Him

upright

arms open to greet you

arms that would never close

to hold you

 

I was drawn to his eyes

he had comma pupils

scarily unreal eyes

that told me nothing

I longed for His embrace

but at that time

I was too young to understand

why

it wasn’t for spiritual contact

but a carnal love

I had no language for

 

when I had a language

I still longed for men

who could never enfold me

men who’s eyes

told me nothing

Chapbooks available: http://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

meandchap

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featuring: Tuesday, March 21: 7:30 p.m. Hot-Sauced Words –http://www.hotsaucedwords.ca/

https://www.facebook.com/events

 

April season 3 FINALS – Friday April 15th Buddies in Bad Times – early show – 7pm start – Featuring Queen Sheba. Slam winner gets trip to Capturing Fire & maybe coffee with me in DC.games

http://www.queerslam.com/season-3-dates.html

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

https://capfireslam.org

check out these poets from  Capturing Fire 2015 & 2016

 

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

Virtual Virginity

A couple of recent Disability After Dark podcasts with Andrew Gurza have looked at first times – Andrew’s & then guest Peter Morley. Like many gay men we knew we were interested in same sex long before we had the opportunity to act upon it. Though Peter was accessing sex in parks at the age of 15. These conversations allowed me to look back at my first thoughts, fantasies & actual experiences.

Where I grew up Sydney, Nova Scotia, there was a park that had a ‘reputation’ but at 15 I was too terrified to check it out at night to see if it lived up to that rep. My earliest ‘sex’ with guys was about 13 though – now that I look back on it, it wasn’t much more playing doctor.

When I was 12/13 we had a little vacation trailer in our driveway that I would sleep out in during the summer. My own little house. I had a couple of buds who would join me & we would play with each other’s cocks, get hard. One them heard about blow jobs but none us knew what that actually meant – we tried merely blowing air on each other’s cock – taking it literally – & not getting much out of it. There was even some ass play. I don’t think any of us ever came. But we all knew what we were doing was ‘dirty’ and the fear of getting caught put an end to such exploration.

About a year later an older guy – 16 I think, explained to me what jerking off was – I think he asked me something like ‘ever pull your self kid?’ I couldn’t wait to get home & try it. That became another dirty secret. My fantasies always centred on guys may age or as I got older pop stars like Mick Jagger or Jim Morrison. I do remember being fascinating by Little Joe’s package on Bonanza.

I remained hidden – dated some girls but only to keep up appearances. My eyes were always going to the guys around me. Fantasy & fear was the thing. It wasn’t until my mid20’s that I had actual sex with another man – drunken sex with a ‘straight’ bud – who came back with booze for more. Kissing & oral was all we did. This didn’t happen often but I always looked forward to those opportunities.

So I didn’t actually have what I can call real sex until I moved to Toronto in 1978. My summer of fun coincided with my first summer of sobriety. Fun is a joke – it was frustrating. Guys I found attractive were interested in younger, firmer, hairier. Not that I was so old but I clearly wasn’t what the market wanted. I remained a virtual virgin because what id id as a drunk didn’t really count, did it? So I had sex with guys I wasn’t that keen on simply because they were interested in me.

There was no Internet in those days, movies were silent super eights one could order from the back of magazines like Honcho, Mandate. There were porn stories in these that gave me some of technical info I needed but they were also awash with either romantic or performance fantasy. Eyes meeting, electric sparks, hours of sweet ass pounding sort of stuff.

So I was expecting some of that and instead got hasty kissing, fast clothing removal, messy orgasims with guys who didn’t want to leave their phone # of take mine. Sex didn’t lead to the deep relationships those stories ended up in. My learning curve was steep.

I’m not a virtual virgin because virtue has nothing to do with it. My first sober sex was so unremarkable I have no recollection of it. But it did happen. And still does.

Coffee Queen

I walked out

yeah I know I’m nobody to them

not selling me a cup of coffee

isn’t going to affect

their salary

their bottom line

five bucks less in the register

it’s not as if

it’s the only coffee shop on the street

I’m even willing to wait in line

as long as the line is moving

but if there are three sales associates

behind the counter

& I’m the only customer

waiting to be served

one of you should at least acknowledge me

not roll your eyes at each other

or chat

backs turned

or see me

then go to do something else

I walked out

without a word

I do this often

being the invisible man

has its drawbacks

I’m a nobody

no influence

merely a person who expects service

someone who has experienced

can I help you sir

oh yes let me show you where that is

is there anything else

in an ordinary drug store chain

or

sorry to keep you waiting

this one’s on the house

now I don’t want those servers

to lose their jobs

or even apologize

I walk out

wondering if there’s

a camera monitoring

that some manager will see

them so busy

see me walking out

and they’ll watch it together

shake their heads

some people have no patience

who does he think he is

the Queen of England

Chapbooks available: http://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

meandchap

kiss314257567_1162384753819933_3271661288579707843_oon going 🙂 when new podcast are posted:  Disability after Dark  iTunes

featuring: Tuesday, March 21: 7:30 p.m. Hot-Sauced Words –http://www.hotsaucedwords.ca/

https://www.facebook.com/events

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

spec

April season 3 FINALS – Friday April 15th Buddies in Bad Times – early show – 7pm start – Featuring Queen Sheba. Slam winner gets trip to Capturing Fire & maybe coffee with me in DC.games

http://www.queerslam.com/season-3-dates.html

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

https://capfireslam.org

check out these poets from  Capturing Fire 2015 & 2016

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

fec17-header

https://www.facebook.com/events/526940540845331/

November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo

nanowrimo_2016_webbadge_winner

http://nanowrimo.org/

money

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

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet