Porn Has Ruined My Sex Life

How do I review myself without being subjective, objective or egotistical. Or does that even matter? Poets either idealize or objectify in one way or the other, and sometimes we are capable of a certain cynical detachment that passes for brave honesty.

tracks field of cold dreams

This was my first (& possibly last) time at the Amsterdam Bicycle Club. It is big room – more upscale & corporate than the name implies. Plush banquettes, ornate stained-glass, imposing bar – it has more of a night club feel than I’m used to, say, from the Central or Paupers. Lots of good sight line, good kitchen (loved the Italian sausage & spaghetti.) Good acoustics, too.

cupboard the cupboard is bare

The show started with a range of open-stagers. Lizzie Violet herself kicking things off with poems to resurrect spring; Supertash, with a copy of the SCUM manifesto (I want it) reminding us that everyone is fucked (up); Same Difference: noted slam man, ‘listened to the weather/ not on the radio/ but to the sound of it on his body’; Myke Mazzei did a couple of sweet songs (he also recorded my set); Cate McKim offered note from her notebook: ‘the human race is unsafe at any speed’ & a fine Noel Coward song; Jeff Cottrill did some fun comic monologues; ending with the Crow with some sharp urban street poems.

I hit the stage after a short break. I started with Godzilla – a piece that gets my energy up quick &, I hope, pulls the audience in faster, too. I did a mix of pieces from my last two sets plus some very new things. More romantic than usual but also as out as I am usually without getting too ‘balls in your face’ about it. Ended with two of the more high energy pieces Identity & Born to be Blown.

ruined yet another couch ruined

There was good response to all the pieces, some snaps here & there, laughs where expected. Thank God for the Kindle to keep things moving forward, though I did skip one piece. Nice bit of $ tossed in the pwyc bin. Even sold a couple of chap books. So I actually have a profit (of about $5.) to show once I deduct transportation, meal & paying my sound guy.


One of the new pieces from my set




he wanted to try


sprawled over the back of a couch

something he’d seen

in a porn movie

when it wasn’t as hot

or as easy as it looked

I had to tell him

porn movies aren’t instructional videos

he looked a bit miffed

as if it was our fault

that neither of us could duplicate

the endurance   flexibility

of those performers

I told him

they don’t do single take session

just like real movies

they stop for snacks

to have their testicular make up adjusted

which is even more important

now with everything in HD

I showed him one sequence

where the stunt dick steps in

to fuck the stunt ass hole

that the two actors

he had been so intense upon

had been replaced

for those all important close ups

unless between camera set ups

one of them grew a foreskin

and the other had his ass shaved

he wasn’t assuaged

by these revelations

and once again

porn has ruined my sex life

and my couch

shovel the couch couldn’t take it

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

Chat Window Friend

April, besides being the cruelest month, is also International Poetry month, even though the USA likes to call it National Poetry Month – implying that only Americans write poetry. Make Spoken Word Go Viral on FB has been posting a daily prompt and I have managed to get at some of them. April is the busiest month.

bear cold care bear

The problem with the prompts for me is that sometimes I miss the actual post & read some the pieces posted inspired by the prompt. Then I assume what the prompt is from the poems. Cathy’s poem about packing & unpacking led me to conclude the prompt had been about packing suitcases, in fact it was, I think, about travel. I ended up with one about unpacking a box that has sat on my basement shelf unopened for the thirty years since I put it there.

dino ice age dinosaur

But, & I hesitate to say, it’s all good. The piece below I think is sprung, I hope, from the actual prompt – ‘for a chat window friend.’ Because I’ve only maintained one of those it was easy to respond to. Not that I don’t engage in i.m. at times via yahoo & FB but I’ve never really gotten into it.

buried cold comfort

Like a lot of my recent shorter pieces this is also caught up in the man (living in Toronto) from Caracas that I’m caught up in and pretty much captures, for me, the frustrations and pleasures of such a tangle while using chat to keep connected when timing keeps people apart.


April 21, Monday – featuring – Lizzie Violet’s Poetry Open Mic at The Amsterdam Bicycle Club – 7:30 – doors and open mic sign up, 8:00 – start – 54 The Esplanade, Toronto

amflyerjpg copy April 27, Sunday – attending – Julie Czerndea Workshop

judy Julie Czerndea

June 6-8 – attending – Bloody Words


June 23-27 – attending – Manuscript to Book – Loyalist Summer Arts – Belleville, Ont

August 28-31 – attending – FanExpo Canada


For a chat window friend.

we see each other every morning

for a few minutes

you on your mobile

texting on your way home from work

dragging your tired self to bed

me just waking up

looking to the day ahead

both of us happy for connection

for this brief contact

to take us into and out of our solitude

a reminder that there is more

I learn un poco de español

you learn a bit of me

we share affection for each other

that I trust gives you happiness

as it makes me happy to to hear back from you


we see each other in the flesh

for a couple of hours

when your days off roll around

and we can roll around on the big bed

framed by your tiny apartment

roll around lost for words

now that we can put actions

to our teasingly short chats

our fingers enter messages

directly on each other

  my keyboard is frozen

An Emotional Fish

An Emotional Fish is one of those Irish bands that got washed away by the tide of U2, even though they even opened for U2 and were under that corporate umbrella. They made no real North American break through. Another Irish band that got washed away was Hothouse Flowers (more about them when I get to the H’s).

shatter01 shattered & scattered

Released in 1990, I picked up this cd in May 1993 – mainly because of the band’s name so it must have been cheap enough that I was willing to take a gamble.

silver breaking the ice

The music is solid rock, sometimes pretty & always propulsive. I really liked a couple of the tracks: Grey Matter, Lace Virginia & can conjure them up in my head without having to put the cd on.

shatter02 shattered close up

Strong vocals, excellent production values and Irish without being overtly Celtic or too mystic a la Van Morrison (more about my Morrison collection when we get to the M’s). I did pick up another CD of their years later but nothing on it grabbed me enough to keep it.



neither of us could say it  mean it

or could somehow make it stick

though we both knew it was in the air

we didn’t want to face the full implication

the only way

it could be come real

was for one of us to die

to move away

to vanish


the moment the word

might stray into the air between us

we knew that it would

never be uttered with conviction

with willingness

or with an intention

that it become a fact


it became an unspoken threat

if you don’t do x

then it’s goodbye

but when x wasn’t done

nothing much changed

some flicker of spite

then on to the next development


another word

is removed from the vocabulary

to be replace with the nod

the I’ll-be-seeing-you eyebrow

the till-tomorrow squeeze

the I-can’t-wait-till-you-call email

the tender animated gif


this the way of separation

the never dearly departed

the closeness one wishes for

that may never occur

hasn’t been enough

to make your goodbye take


I say that

because the same has been true for me

I’ve been ready to utter

but not prepared for the follow through

for the consequences

the door is too easy open

and comfort too simple

not to be real

to be lasting


it does have room to spare

time to allow change

though the change

seems to consume you more than me


the other side of farewell

is too dark and bleak

to consider

we both know that what lies there

isn’t the unknown

but a return to what was there

before the first glance   first hello

that tumbled us to bed

heart first

lips locked

too locked to mumble anything deeper


yes oh yes


what I might miss

is the sound of you sleeping

beside me or in a room nearby

a room I can peak in to watch

the rise  fall

the wriggle of a bare foot

out of the cover

the slip off of a too warm blanket

to reveal the the true moon


the impending goodbye

is kept at a distance

gives you the room to make a move

to bring you other opportunities

chances to explore

fears you never had to face with me

the fears of meeting someone with whom

goodbye would mean goodbye

here your goodbye won’t stand

it’ll merely meant

let’s try this way for now

bdoor very blue door