Rainbow Pride EastEnd Toronto

More rainbow flags from around east end Toronto.

tree proud
bases covered
patriotic queers
more tree pride
porch proud
growing into pride
let it wave
pride is essential

I do have a limited number of the original Distant Music chapbook for sale for $25.00 each (includes surface mail postage). Send via the paypal above along with where to send it.

paypal.me/TOpoet 

East End Rainbow Pride

Lots of personal rainbow flags scattered all over east end Toronto

on caged
branch office
between two ferns
rainbow privacy

almost real rainbow
maple leaves over the rainbow
anyway the wind blows
a la porch

I do have a limited number of the original Distant Music chapbook for sale for $25.00 each (includes surface mail postage). Send via the paypal above along with where to send it.

paypal.me/TOpoet 

Picture Perfect 24

Dan was surprised that Sanjay did go to Kevin McLeod’s engagement fundraiser. The lineup outside was being entertained by clowns juggling on unicycles. Mario Delucia, Kevin’s manager/partner, dressed as an aerialist in pale pink tights, with sequins sown in a scattered pattern that caught the light, was greeting people as they came in and handing each of them a cd of Kevin’s new single.

“Dan so glad you could make it.” He gave Dan a CD. “And this is the Sanjay Kumar. A real power couple. Crime and cream pies. There’s a TV show plot for you right there.”

He turned to the next guests coming in. 

As they made their way in and up the stairs they saw many people they knew who greeted them. Hugged, kissed, asked how they were doing, then busily went to the next people they half-knew as well.

Dan took a couple of glasses from a waiter. Handed one to Sanjay.

“Impressive.” Dan said.

“Yes, if you like glib.” Sanjay sipped his wine and wrinkled his nose. He looked for a place to put his plastic glass down.

“”You were supposed to call me back?” Cyrtys Baxter barrelled through a clump of people. 

“I’ve been busy. Sanjay this is Cyrtys Baxter. He called the other night.”

“Pleased to meet you. Look there’s Tracy from Zephyr. I’ll go see if they need a hand.” He kissed Dan quickly on the mouth and went.

“Very handsome.” Cyrtys watched Sanjay leave. “You like them a bit on the thick side I see.”

“You know Kevin McLeod?”

“Not at all. We’ve met a few times but this is the event of the season. Why thank you.” He accepted a balloon animal from a clown. “Looks like cock to me.” He laughed. “You pose for this?” He asked the clown.

The clown disappeared back into the crowd.

“You know Kevin?”

“I worked on a couple of his videos. Post production stuff mostly. Some green screen.”

“You’re a man of many talents. I was expecting you to return my calls though. Even during business hours.”

“Sorry, I was caught up in work. It was interesting to meet John Kilpatrick though. He’s an excellent host for the show. Didn’t sound like he was leaving the show.”

“Look, Daniel I didn’t mean to mislead you, honestly. But he was talking about wanting more money, about having another offer but that offer fell through and we’re stuck with him for another season. Contract you know.”

“So what did you want to talk to me about.” Dan accepted another drink from a waiter and some canapés.

“We want to do a more complete follow up to the east coast case. Possibly a mini-series looking only at that one case. I’ve seen the footage Stephanie shot with you and the camera loves you.”

“I know how to find my light.”

“Mr. James you have to learn how to take a compliment.”

“Mr. Baxter you do realize some of us can tell the difference between flattery and a compliment.”

His reply was cut off when a young girl jumped at them with a flash camera. She took three quick photos before taking the camera away from her face.

“Moxy Moxham. Girl reporter!” She did a quick curtsey. “And I do believe I just caught Mr. and Mr. James in polite conversation at this prestigious event.”

“Sorry to disappoint ya’kiddo,” Dan tried a 30’s news editor voice, “but no dice on the Mr. & Mr. angle.”

“Oh,” she was crest fallen.

While he did introductions he looked around the room. “Is your Dad here, too?”

“Over there somewhere. Oh look there’s Lady GaGa! I got to get pictures of this. She’s dressed like a normal person!” Ashely pushed her way into the crowd shouting. “Make way! Make way. Press.”

“What a handful.” Cyrtys shook his head. “Ever wish you had children?”


“Not at all. Sanjay is often enough.”

“I am serious though about …”

“Cyrtys I’m not here to discuss business, Really. I came as a friend of the grooms. Come to my office Monday and we can discuss whatever it is your are trying to pitch.”

“At two-fifty an hour?”

“That’s only if you have a camera on me.”

“Daniel James!” Jeremy Moxham appeared out of the crowd. “Ashley said you were here. I suppose this is your …”

“Let’s not go there. This is Cyrtys, with two y’s, Baxter, of Quintex – is it studios, films?”

“Films.” Jeremy answered. “Yes, I’m familiar with Mr. Baxter’s work.” Jeremy shook his hand. “Jeremy Moxham.”

“Of … TevTec?” Cyrtys asked

“Yes. If you don’t mind I’d like to have a word with Mr. James.”

“Certainly, sir.” Cyrtys walked away.

“What was that all about?” Dan asked.

“Just wanted to rescue you from his grip.”

“TevTec?”


“A subsidiary of mine that is involved with Quintex. It’s one of those tiny logos you see at the end of a TV show. That is if you watch the credits at all.”

“Sometimes. But never the fine print.”

“Your other half here?” Jeremy peered around the room. “Ah, yes, managing the dessert station. You’ve trained him well.”

“Your other half here?” Dan asked. He struggled to keep up the appearance that he and Sanjay were the model couple. 

“Jane? No. We’ve been separated for several years. If it weren’t for Ashley I probably would have forgotten her name by now.”

“Did someone mention my name? Smile.” Ashley popped up in front of them. “Moxy Moxham girl reporter catches the wealthy Jeremy Moxham with the debonaire Daniel James in an intimate moment at the 519.”

“Intimate!” Her dad laughed. “With this bunch of clowns?”

“Oh Dad!” she laughed.

There was a tuba and bass drum fanfare as two clowns pushed the crowd aside to allow Kevin and Stewart to enter. They followed the couple to a stage at the end of the room.

“I’d like to thank everyone who came tonight.” Kevin said. “We’ve raised over $500,000 for the 519.”

He was drowned out by the applause of the crowd.

“But even more important.” He continued as they quieted down. “I’m pleased to officially announce my marriage to Stewart O’Connor after this year’s Pride Parade.”

“Where?” Someone shouted from he crowd. “Queen’s park?”

The crowd response rattled the chandeliers.

“There’ll more people lined up for our wedding than any royal wedding.” Kevin reached for his guitar. “Here’s a little something I wrote for my … I wish I could say my two husbands but that isn’t legal yet. You want it, you knot it, you knot it, you got it.” He started to sing.

It was nearly one when Daniel and Sanjay got back to their house.

“Thank God that’s over.” Sanjay said as he turned on the kitchen light

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” Dan open a bottle of water. “As always it was too much booze though and not enough water.”

“You didn’t waste much time.”

“How’s that?”

“I saw you flirting with that hot black guy.”

“That was Cyrtys Baxter from Unsolved Cold. It definitely wasn’t me flirting.”

“Maybe not you, but he had his eye on you all night. Then daggers after your other friend showed up. That his daughter?”

“Yes. Ashley Moxham. Daughter of …”

“Jeremy Moxham. Yes I do read the papers. He certainly doesn’t need his pictures touched up.”

“I thought you were overseeing the desserts. Or are you jealous?”

“I hadn’t … I don’t want you rebounding.” Sanjay took some cold chicken out of the refrigerator.

“I’m not looking, if that’s what you are getting at.  It hasn’t been a week yet. I was there. They were there. We were there. Perhaps you saw me kissing the grooms.”

“I kissed the grooms and their best man. Now he’s a looker.”

“Mario?” Dan took a chicken leg and began eating it. 

“Oh yeah.”

“I hate to tell you but he’s taken. It’s a triad. As Kevin explained, three person weddings aren’t legal yet but we’re working on it.”

“Triad?”

“Yep. As I understand it they live together, sleep together, though I don’t know if it’s one big bed.”

“I suppose the three will honeymoon together too.” Sanjay wiped his hands clean. “Maybe we should have a break-up party so neither of us have to work at keeping up appearances.”

“Appearances?”

“Of us as the happy couple.” Sanjay leaned against the kitchen counter.

“It doesn’t matter to me who knows or how they find out.”

“Very adult of you. How many people did you break the break-up news to tonight? Baxter? Moxham?”

“Sanj you know I was happy with you, with us, as we were.”

“So you say, but you don’t seem to care much that it may come to an end.”

“You made it all pretty clear already. The fact that I’m not broadcasting it means … May?”

“You know what it’ll take. I’ve made that very clear. You want it, you knot it, you knot it, you got it.” Sanjay sang the chorus from Kevin’s song.

“See you in the morning.”

Dan started to undress as he went up to his room. When did I start thinking of it as ‘my room’ instead of ‘our room.’ I guess I made that transition to sort-of-single easier that I expected to. Things were so ordinary a month ago and now every time I turn around there seems to be something else to deal with. At least there isn’t a new RCMP case to add to what’s going on.

He change into his bed shorts and pulled the covers around his shoulders. The bed was warmer with Sanjay in it though. I do miss that. I guess I’m human after all. What kinds of gifts would people bring to a break-up party? Or would we give away things that we had given to each other. Thanks for the memories. 

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International LicenseHey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees 

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Kitchen Kitch

Over the basement door & the door to the dining-room I these two pairs of plaster ‘ornaments’ that I bought in the early 2000’s at a street sale on my street. This was an annual event early in July – will it happen this year? I doubt it as interest in it has declined over the years to the point where only a few house drag stuff out. At one time it was almost a real flea-market with tables of brass, dvd’s, & the like.

I did have stuff, back in the day, & sold off lots of lps, useless nick-knacks, even books. With so much covid purging the past few months I’ve seen possible street sale stuff dragged to the curb to take away or trash so I doubt if there’ll much even if there is a street sale.

Any way I bought these, now of dubious political-correctness, orientalist hangings. Hand-painted, with a couple of chips, there when purchased. Very 50’s, early 60’s feel to them that I love. the perfect size for over a doorway. I resisted a set of grapes & also a set of daises. They lacked the true kitch these have.

By the basement door is this poster on a board. It was an unexpected bonus when I bought the newly-released, expanded, collectors’ edition of The Return of The King at Sam’s or maybe it was HMV. I had picked it pop for my partner who was is TGH at the time for heart issues. As it was unexpected I had to cart it there & then home on the subway.

By the window is my orange tree (now outside for the summer). It was started from a seed that had sprouted in the orange. I planted it & it actually grew. Full spectrum grow light over it. Beside it, against the wall, is ‘Sober-Up.’ Enamelled metal, 30’s style advertising – that maybe be for a real product. It was part of a friend’s estate – when he passed I got to chose a few items & this seemed like a clear choice.

Finally another yard-sale purchase – an egg chicken. Every kitchen needs a chicken. You life the top off & store eggs in the body. I’ve never used it to store anything mind you but I love it. Hand painted with a bit of a 30’s retro about it at the same time. I doubt if it is a period piece though. I also doubt if people keep eggs outside of the fridge either. 

Aphrodisiac

I know you’re sore

after that gal you’d been hitting on

walked out on you 

after three drinks

how the last two chicks you dated

dumped you via text message

one of them still won’t return your calls

how they turn into such selfish bitches

but just because I’m a clean old queer

doesn’t mean I have any interest 

in your macho macho meat

the fact that you’re straight 

just ain’t my aphrodisiac

<>

you may think I’m one of those 

predatory homos you are sure 

are always lurking around

hungry for any straight guy 

to fall into my eager mouth

well honey 

you are in a dream world

the fact that I checked out our jeans

was because 

I was wondering where you got them

<>

you know in this light 

you are sort of cute

and kind of sweetly drunk

but I’m not drunk enough

so why don’t you find your buds 

you aren’t getting anything here

‘cause if them nasty hos

you always seem to end up with

aren’t interested I’m certainly not

the fact that you’re straight 

just ain’t my aphrodisiac mac

I do have a limited number of the original Distant Music chapbook for sale for $25.00 each (includes surface mail postage). Send via the paypal above along with where to send it.

paypal.me/TOpoet 

Ordinary Dress

samprules2

Working through the  227 Rules For Monks.

Who knew the simple life could be so complex.

Ordinary Dress

I’m looking at dresses

skirts

something for me

but it’s all too fem

I wonder

why is fem a bad thing

there was a time when

nothing was too fem for a man to wear

all those portraits of men 

in wild oceans of lace

satin

brocaded jackets

did they dress like that

hanging around their homes

what did they wear

when they weren’t posing

do I want a dress

to pose

do I need something practical

utilitarian

genderless

I’m looking at vintage photos 

of men going fishing

they’re wearing shirts & ties

shirts & ties to the beach

on picnics with the family

working on the roof

I can’t remember 

the last time I wore

a shirt & tie

I’ve never worn a dress or a skirt

I don’t want to make a statement

but that is impossible

if I showed up

in acceptable formal

Henry VIII court wear

it would be a costume

how many times 

would I have to dress that way

for it to be as ordinary

as a shirt & tie

would a dress on me

ever be as ordinary

as a shirt & tie

is ordinary a bad thing

I do have a limited number of the original Distant Music chapbook for sale for $25.00 each (includes surface mail postage). Send via the paypal above along with where to send it.

paypal.me/TOpoet 

Wrestling With Connection

Week 7 on The Artist’s Way is about connection to creativity – as opposed to our connection with others. One of things that hampers that creative connection is perfectionism. I have a writing friend who has been perfecting the same thirty page opening to his novel for some ten years now. It has to be perfect so he can send it to an agent etc. He no longer asks me for advice 🙂 I stopped that by telling him it would cost $100 an hour for a minimum of three hours before I would be willing to look at his work-in-progress.

There is a section on risk – the willingness to try & not succeed as we envisioned. For me this is part of the process of letting go of expectations, of control. In recovery they say you plan the plans but the results are in the universe’s hands. I’ve painted rooms one colour only to have the paint dry in a different one 🙂

As with the Ways chapters so far there some sifting through the past for missed opportunities & for good turning points. In my covid house-cleaning frenzy I’ve unearthed old note books, old rough drafts, old photographs. Those photos reconnected me with where I was in my early 20’s, long before I moved to Toronto. I’ve also been reading Old Trout Funnies – an excellent book about a comic book series by Paul  ‘Moose’ MacKinnon that was first issued while I was living in Cape Breton. (https://www.facebook.com/OldTroutFunnies).

Moose was one of my drinking crowd & he included real people (some of whom I knew) in the comics & calendars. In one issue there is even a plug (page 70) for my poetry book ‘Distant Music’ which had been published at the time. So there was actual creative support for me in that community at that time.

 

One of the tasks was to wear a favourite item of clothing for no special reason. All my clothes are favourites, so what I did was to pick some things I rarely wear but save for intimate encounters 🙂 Namely some wrestling singlets & some revealing undies I bought a few years ago. Very snug but also very sexy. Photos “fansonly” 🙂

My Underwear

it seems the best way 

to put out the fire

in your heart

was to run over to a bar

drink till there was 

only a stumble of drunks 

to deal with

there was no way out of it

except to break the windows

push your grandma down the stairs

so what if there weren’t 

any stairs in our apartment

you still get the picture

 

yeah I know

drawing it in crayons

all over the hall to our place

wasn’t a great idea

but you have to admit

it caught the lighting of the fire

without using up all the reds

only the blues

the blues you give everyone

who is lucky enough

to catch you on your balcony

ready to jump

don’t do it

or if you have to 

wait till I get back with coffee

I have to be careful 

the contents may be hot

but wet will always 

put out the flame

it makes no difference to me 

what burns you out of my system

hot coffee or direct flame

 

maybe tossing all your undies 

in the shredder was a bit much

but it seems the only way 

to keep you out of them

to keep you fresh

ready and pliant

not that you wore them 

that often anyway

going commando

wasn’t a rare event

bare-assed at McDonalds

where did you park those buns

yeah not so funny

does it look like I’m laughing

all the way home

to the shadowed moment 

when there once was a dart of hope

now just a bunch 

of empty coat hangers

in a clump 

I can’t pull apart

hangers that once held

everything you ever wore

around the house

out in the street

 

yeah I’m a total liar

I never picked up a drink 

because of you

that isn’t going to happen

wasn’t even tempted

you took something out of my life 

but you left behind 

more that you took

I don’t need to breath 

it’s all up to you now

as if it alway wasn’t

 

I can’t get over

the number of times

I wanted to paint the hall way

that I wanted to use 

your tooth brush to clean 

the coffee machine

so I wouldn’t have to go out 

for a fresh cup to dump 

in your laugh

because I’m sure 

that behind closed eyes

you are smirking like a tried urinal

knowing that you pissed 

me off one too many times

 

you know

if you were here now

I’d probably take you back

but still wouldn’t trust you 

as far as you could throw 

my underwear

I do have a limited number of the original Distant Music chapbook for sale for $25.00 each (includes surface mail postage). Order via the paypal along with where to send it.

paypal.me/TOpoet 

Kiss The Monster

The Monster 

whose lips are these

did they kiss 

before they were grafted to my face

this attitude to the kiss

where did it come from

what cultural imperative 

was infused into my brain

to tell me the power of the kiss

 

I look down at this body

ruminate about this brain

all the things woven into 

my sense of self

that I don’t know were they originated

though I know they are controlled

by attitudes I can’t alter

 

the history of dominant needs

sutured to my ideologies 

as seamlessly as these lips

as these hands

which send ripples of fear

through the global villagers

 

a monster created in their minds

moving in this world

asking them

are your lips yours

or have they too been grafted

seamlessly

as you groped with those hands

(your hands?)

into adulthood

 

Stepping away from the Rules for a break 🙂 Each October I’ve been writing poetry inspired by horror movies. I’ve been a fan from an early age – ghost stories, spooky stuff had a distinct appeal for me. I can’t pin-point an actual age or movie that sparked my interest. Maybe it was ghost stories at Y camp?

 

One approach is to see the world from the creature’s point of view. This is the most famous monster of all – Frankenstien’s creation. I’ve given him a more introspective sensibility that is even present in the novel. In the book he is quite chatty & thanks to his bad brains, rather vengeful. My creature is stitched together from similar parts from movies, books & shoe-gazer angst.

He questions the sociological construct of the kiss, of the sense of self. The sort of questioning that many non-conforming gender people often go though as they sort though the history of dominant needs. LGBTQ people often end up with a sense of sexual self that they have to put together for themselves. How do you adapt this self to a culture that says self-acceptance still doesn’t change the fact that you are fucking monster that can send women & children screaming when you go to the washroom.

Part of the fear of the monster is often how it makes us question our own sense of self. Are these my lips. Is this kiss, is this gender, me or is it a cultural costume I wear to fit in, fit in so well there’s no need to make any decision. Why not accept the pre-made identity that allows us to conform so that we don’t scare even ourselves when we look into the mirror.

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

Abundance

Week 6 of the Artist’s Way is about abundance/money. One of AA’s promises is ‘the fear of money & economic insecurity will leave us’ – the trick being the word ‘fear’  as ‘economic insecurity’ never leaves us – just ask Trump about his tax returns & his fear flares up instantly. I’ve rarely heard anyone say they have too much money or that the money that they have makes them all that secure. Money can’t buy you happiness but it can get you a decent therapist.

As with the other weeks there are lots of lists to make. Here’s one of mine: silver cloud rolls royce; spaniel; lilacs; maple pecan ices cream; kiwi; cauliflower; bbq ribs & bake potato; endless list; red. Can you guess what this is a list of? In some ways this list a challenge because some of the items where areas of my life I that aren’t very relevant.

The artists dates have not been going someplace but cleaning neglected nooks & closets in my house & making discoveries. Caches of photos from 1973; rough drafts of early novels; old notebooks; boxes old bandages (do they expire? I tossed them regardless). An abundance memory, dust & paper-clips. Letting go of that stuff has become easier creating an abundance of space, space I’ll not to refill.

The Way doesn’t really address the culture of materialism – in which having enough is seen settling for less. Compulsive consumers are seen as the key to progress – so one wants to be unblocked creatively in order to make more money to keep the wheels of progress turning. In the USA now there are people who see social distancing impeding progress. I guess money $ for the funeral industry is actually a good thing.

One thing I did do that created an instant sense of too much & wow! was indulging in a sale that Brick Books is having – a box of 50 poetry books for $30. Mine arrived this past week & I was amazed. The books average at 18.00 each – which is $900.00 worth of books. Then I reflected on the nature of becoming a published poet & was saddened. https://www.brickbooks.ca/30-for-a-box-of-books-sale/ . But what won’t keep me from enjoying the books. Guess what my friends are getting for Christmas 🙂

My Luck

when I tell people

I’m lucky to be alive today

they react as if I’m over-reacting

because in many ways

my life has been a breeze

I didn’t suffer any physical 

sexual 

emotional 

abuse growing up

never went hungry

my parents never divorced

so what do I have to complain about

 

it’s not that I’m complaining

merely making a statement of fact

I’m lucky to alive

that was a time

when gay teens 

were put into institutions 

to be cured

given shock treatment

lobotomies

behaviour modification

so they could be normal 

gender conforming

boys & girls

 

what saved my life 

was music

music never judged you

never waited outside school 

to beat you up

didn’t tell on you

didn’t turn away

when you searched album covers

for inspiration in words

in the tight pants of lead guitarists

or the sturdy arms of drummers

mooning over Keith Moon

 

never knowing anything 

about their lives

maybe if I had known 

Jim Morrison 

was really a backdoor man

Moon was a bi guy

I might have had a glimmer

of hope 

 

but even though they had talent

fame 

that allowed them freedom

but not enough to be out

careers would have been ruined

and when the music was over

they self-destructed

I was lucky to be alive

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

nothing thanks to covid19 😦

Hey! You can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee

sweet, eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Don’t Take My Time

My Time

I am a creature of routine

no matter how hot the guy

I am unavailable at certain times

often the only time they are free

which they take personally

even though all we know

about each other are profile pics

& what we claim are our likes

 

they act as if my time boundary

is playing hard to get

or just playing them

a sign I’m not really interested

that all I want is their desire

not their bodies

one guy said ‘if you’re going to be that way

good luck because you’ll need it’

as if my schedule 

was a character fault

 

one called me inflexible

though I had suggested other times

other days

his inflexibility was of no concern to him

whereas mine was arbitrary

whatever 

I have a life

I don’t set it aside for no dick

 

or perhaps they see it

as control

that I am making it clear

I am the dominant, the top,

not some submissive bottom bitch

gasping eager for their randy visit

 

even if I am eager

it’s still my time

I have an acquaintance in recovery who will phone & launch into their conversation. No hello, no is this a good time, no how are you. I will stop them asap if I’m busy but they’ve never learned to say – is this a good time. I have another friend in recovery who calls & really needs to meet facto face for a real talk. I suggest times – none of which fit his schedule – he assumes that for the sake off recovery I’ll change my schedule to suit his needs. I’ve done this a few times only to have him text to say he’d be late or etc.

What does this have to do with ‘My Time’ – recovery has taught me to respect my own needs, to respect my boundaries & not to let people-pleasing turning into martyrdom. Times I’ve been persuaded to make allowances for another’s time constraints have rarely worked well for either party.

Sticking to my guns often has people acting as if my not being inconvenienced by them is an inconvenience to them. That also might have to do with he fact that I don’t apologize, any more, or explain either, when I say ‘not free at that time.’ Odd how being firm can be seen as arrogant or indifferent.

I no longer take the bait of being guilted into being agreeable. I’d rather be seen as unreasonable than being seen as an ‘any time Chuck.’ Now in the age of covid distancing such inflexibility is even more necessary & a covid ‘no’ is acceptable to many. Even if I am eager, now, it’s still my life.


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

Dining Room

A souvenir of the writers’ workshop/retreat at Loyalist College in Belleville. There was also a painters workshop at the same time. One morning we visited the painter, saw their work, then read some our aloud to them. I swapped one of my Renaissance anthologies for this painting. Int he area many houses have a large bed of orange flowers – at one time to signify it was the home of Orangemen. Yes gardens were once tools of political & religious importance.

One of my role models 🙂 Tweety could get away with tormenting Sylvester with the dog ready to rescue him. The brass cymbals were a gift many years ago. I ring them on the full moon. In the window  you might notice a stained glass Cape Breton Island sun catcher.

The patron saint of writers – St Michael – the only saint with a sword. I bought this Broughton’s – a religious items store not he Danforth, just east of Woodbine. They have since gone out of business. I bout this ceramic figurine at their going out of business sale. It hovers on the plate rail over me by the computer. The bearded guy under his foot is part sea serpent. The Welsh plate beside it is a nod to my Celtic roots. It might have been gift or I may have found it at a 2nd hand store.

Photos of photos 🙂 The first by my niece before she she became branded as Betty Rocksteady. I love the triple exposure effect & its surreal Man Ray vibe. Check her out on Amazon.

 

The other is by my friend Kyle Andrews – driftwood in sunset on the coast of Nova Scotia around Canso Causeway. 

 

 

 

My lunchbox collection. These are from various years of FanExpo & were included as part of the deluxe package. Supposedly limited editions – but what does that mean? Were unsold ones destroyed?  repurposed? repainted as Terminator XIX lunch boxes? The photo, one of my favourites, is of no one I know. I found it on one of my walks, leaning on a garbage bin. I couldn’t resist it.

Photosynthesis

something happens when 

my skin 

is in the same room 

as yours

 

I don’t have to know you are there

I can feel something 

though my clothes 

through every layer 

coat sweater jeans undies

a emanation comes from you

your eyes   your smile

that changes my chemical structure 

it grows glows down to my toes

 

in fact

you don’t even have to be there

someone can mention your name

& I feel like a leaf turning 

to your sun

your picture 

your voice on the telephone

 

my hypersensitive flesh reacts

the closer you are

the less subtle the reaction

the more alone we are together

the less subtle the manifestation 

radians through the air around us

as we snuggle to watch TV 

step into a shower

approach the bed

emanation that knit

pull us closer closer

enmeshed in each other

breathe the same air

walk in the same sunshine

wash with the same soap

 

complete without each other

yet always eager for the knit

creating opportunities 

to mention the name

laugh about something or the other 

we could have done

caught up in the shower

lost between the bed and the TV

 

there are times 

when opportunity

allows awareness of another

I feel it first in my skin

I look around the room  the street 

to see where its coming from

can it be returned

eyes become heat seeking sensors

I’m a turning leaf

looking for some sun

more light 

more opportunity to share that flow

with someone else

even if it is merely to acknowledge 

not act

don’t have to act every time  

anytime

the grace of light fills us 

each to overflowing

 

no need to fear 

there won’t be enough

all I have to do is breathe deep 

open myself to the gift

of your sun

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

June

(canceled by covid19 😦 )June 25-26-27 – Capturing Fire 2020 – Wooly Mammoth Theatre -Washington D.C.
 capfireslam.org 

July

(Maybe) All’s Well That Ends Well – Stratford Festival

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