Finished Week Three of The Artist’s Way. Julia sure loves lists. Looking into the past to clear the vision for the future didn’t turn up anything new from my pre-Toronto east coast growing up. The only real memory of negativity was the reaction of Malcom Ross – then head of the English Department at Dalhousie University – to my first attempt at a novel – it was about a character coming out & he felt the subject matter wasn’t suitable.
Looking back I’m not sure if it was because of his personal moral stance or because the writing itself wasn’t as strong as my poetry at the time. he had been very supportive of me as a poet. I still have that novel somewhere in my paper archives so I may dig it out to see how it stands up as juvenilia 🙂
My worse critic is often self-talk & not what others have said or written about my work directly. When I was involved in a crit group I felt supported up to a point but rarely got as much feedback as the others – was it because my work was fine or because they didn’t think it was worth bothering with? At least with the Loyalist workshops I got lots of excellent input. Plus some of the fiends I made at Loyalist are still people I’m in contact with – but the poetry work-shoppers have drifted away; I only hear from them when they send out bulk invites to shows.
Thanks to covid19 closings artist dates have become photo excursions. The pictures here are from my walk Thursday (Mar 25). I took TTC to Wellesley Station & walked home from there. Part of the walk crosses the Rosedale Valley Overpass then the Prince Edward Viaduct. The pictures are all from the south side – some looking as down as I could lean over the rail. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Don River so clear 🙂
Resistance
if his resistance
has been any smaller
it would have taken
an ant to measure it
but as it was
it was big enough
to change me
on a molecular level
each time he was near
my atomic structure
began to revolve around him
heads would turn to see
where that unseen vibe
was coming from
eyes would linger on his lips
his smile
his teeth
each hair on his head
would mesmerize
drawing power
from the love light
in their eyes
charging him up
for more powerful emanations
and that was me
sitting by his side
who noticed me
did it matter
as long as he noticed me
as long as he was in me
as long as I was the one
who held the key to the shield
that protected him
they all wanted
the part of him that was only mine
the shadow of his power
protects me
while keeping me
from the full expression of my own
the difference between us
was less than than
the thickness of a spark
jumping from lip to lip
the nano-storm flash
of realization from eye to eye
we were merged
separate unified individual
connected
shaping the universe
for all to follow
living in that gap between
want and want even more
giving and losing
taking and reflecting
the bridge
between life and death
we were on the breeze
on the disappearing species list
nothing was safe
cataclysmic explanations
elemental tables were upset
we didn’t sit with them
they resented the
absolute the power we held
when our hands
were merely reaching
for one another
April
? – Hot Damn! It’s Queer Slam – Season 6 finales Buddies and Bad Times Theatre – date to be announce thanks to COVID19
June
June 25-26-27 – Capturing Fire 2020 – Wooly Mammoth Theatre -Washington D.C. 
capfireslam.org
July
All’s Well That Ends Well – Stratford Festival
Hey! You can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee
at Ted’s Bulletin in Washington DC
at 2020’s capfireslam.org – sweet, eh? paypal.me/TOpoet
TOpoet 