Icarus and the Coconut


Icarus me poised

over the lip of cliff

aim – the horizon

heads for the deep pool of water


[deep and limpid at the same time?

can that be?]

blue nearly blue

the air rushing around me

silent but audible

[how can that be?]

my ears feel the rush of cool

the tickle of sun

the smell of the water

snow at the sides of the pool


to make the water

deeper riper for me to land in

the smell fresh clean

tropic coconut crisp



am I about to splash!


the wings begin to work

an up draft pulls me back

above the cliff

closer to the clouds

the distance increases

I fall closer to time

time moves patiently along

I dive repeatedly

never actually hit the water

never even grazing

the thin towel of snow

that rings the pool

as close as I get

is the smell

sometime this taste

of coconut

surrounds me

haunts me

I’m sitting at a movie and I smell it

is it in the popcorn

is it coming from the screen

the skis?

the wax they use to slide

quicker over the snow

to keep their surf boards

dangling on the lip of a wave


I dive

time flies me to love

I work the moment to my advantage

I look around the dark theatre

I see the movie flicker

on the blank faces

the flicker of snow on water

the hush of drinks sipped slowly

the greedy clasp of hands

the secret thoughts of couples

I hear them all as I dive

as I swim

through turgid air

no air conditioner here

just the overpowering call of popcorn

the sludgy invitation of coconut oil

the timid seasoning of snow

the over abundance of salt

the ocean

the sticky something on the floor

the time we took to get there

the flight of cranes

the shadow cast across the screen

reflected on my glasses

bounced from the charm around your neck


the gleam of a belt buckle


the slow fumble of a zipper

in the men’s room

spilling coconut seeds

later much later

the cool of evening

the time of day

the money spent or lost


where all for that moment lost

taken up

to fly across the screen

across the sky

the stars shooting rapidly

dizzy with moonlight

fresh with clever moments


tricks of the eye

was it just that


was it actually you I saw

I land across the street

you were in that cafe


something overflowing with white foam

something I wanted to dive into

to fly past and cast my eye

to fish

to cast my hook and eye

to catch you

pull you out of the air

out of your seat two rows ahead of me

to make me your movie

the leap into the heart

to flicker across my face

along my chest

light light

like an image

to last that long

to have good lighting

the soundtrack of my last tumble


over the cliff

seeds foam

sky flying all the while

into each others dreams

arms are fearful to open

as wide as the eyes

to take in the screen

the hard heart breaking

like the shell of a coconut

spilling milk

into the cool blue ocean


Icarus is one of those iconic figures nearly every poet takes a dive at – I have a few Icarus pieces & this is the first one. I try to take a different look at this icon – adding the snow in reference to Canada, I suppose. But also as the source of water – it’s the melting ice caps that perpetuate the weather cycles globally. It’s that melt makes the water Icarus falls into deeper.

Where the coconut comes from I don’t recall – some resonance of big hairy balls no doubt. The point of the legend is his egotism in daring to fly & paying the price. Here I fly but never fall from the sky – I fall in love. Is the point of the flight really to soar or to fall – to go out in a blaze of glory? I get teased with that – the smell of it.


I am an observer of this struggle – it becomes the movie of the moment in my life. The fall takes so long I can sit & eat popcorn – a man caught with an inner sense of struggle appearing to the world as calmly eating – being judged by my surface. Dreamlike I move to washroom sex – the other struggle – the fall from grace – this is where my wings get singed?


I had a friend on the east coast who referred to semen as coconut seeds. He was one of the first I experienced sex with – affectionate but unrepeatable. His fear was the sun that burned away desire while it released mine – sex wasn’t false wings for me. Images begin to repeat, mesh, coffee foam becomes sea foam, the sea Icarus falls into eventually. The foam I imbibe (like coconut seeds?). My fiend’s heart hard like that shell couldn’t be broken by his fear whereas I kept flying & still fly today.


November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo



January 20, Wednesday: judging at Hot Damn! it’s a Queer Slam – featuring  Dominic Berry Supermarket Restaurant and Bar 268 Augusta Ave., Toronto, Ontario M5T2L9




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

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