Gunning For Fidelity

Gunning For Fidelity

what are you looking for

fidelity or ownership

fidelity as long as you are interested

but if the other party

should be unfaithful

then you can gleefully

slip off the chains of fidelity

blaming them for betraying you

for being the first one

because you have the power

only you

the other party must surrender all

for unity to be real


what are you looking for

commitment that serves your pleasures

as long as you permit it

as long as they satisfy

as long as they never look beyond

the scope of your pleasures

until you get bored

because they would never get bored

because if they did

then they really didn’t love you

they really weren’t as committed as you

life is so unfair

because you never met someone

who can live up

to the true fidelity you want

no one is as capable of it as you are

so you keep seeking

keep being disappointed

in each new opportunity

that disappoints


it’s always their fault

for lacking the deep spiritual values

you hold like a gun to their heads

waiting for the first flinch

as an excuse to escape

This is the 5th of the saṃghādisesas. Keep in mind these pieces are prompted by the saṃghādisesas, they are not explanations or expansions of them. This is a theme I have blogged about before in The Fragility of Fidelity. Stepping out of the lock-step of what relationships are often lets them last longer and become deeper and more satisfying.


So this piece is a variation on a theme for me, not breaking new territory. I’ve done reading on the history of romance, sexuality and marriage. What is currently assumed as the ‘norm’ comes more from idealized fiction, drama and poetry than it does less than ideal reality. We judge relationships according to a laugh track, good lighting or the right background music.

There is also a tendency to judge things by what we decided when we were twelve or thirteen and as we get older don’t even questions those formative decisions. At that age not only do we feel vulnerable but that first love is a permanent love. Our first falling out of love becomes a warning never to be that open again or a reason to seek revenge on everyone who shows an interest.

Is it love or is it obsession? If you think about me all the time, can’t get me out of your mind, not somebody until the right someone loves you – I may be flattered but I prefer men with lives of their own not one defined by my emotional responses to them. To last it has to be more than hormones. Lust can be a useful starter but it can run out of energy if that’s all there is to the relationship. There has to be chocolate too 🙂

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Judy Garland

I recently watched Girl Crazy starring Judy Garland and Micky Rooney. Gershwin music & songs made for a diverting movie though the actually excuse of a script wasted time that should have been spent on songs. Judy is astonishing though. Her acting is better than needed and her singing, even at that age, was a force to be reckoned with. The story of how Hollywood treated her is well-known – needless to say Hollywood has never known what to do with such colossal talent beyond control & monetize it. Judy didn’t have what it took to resist their manipulation. 

I’ve a pair of cds that are transfers from lps: Judy Garland’s Best & 16 greatest hits. Best was a double compilation from her movies. So many classics that have been covered by countless singers but none have matched the emotional power of Garland. The longing of You Made Me Love You or Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas is palpable – songs that can still push my emotional buttons with not only nostalgia but a sadness for how she was manipulated by Hollywood. She was their cash cow not a brilliant sensitive performer.

16 Greatest Hits is a late career live performance. It was on some obscure Italian label that I came across at, maybe, Sam’s. Her voice is still strong but unsteady. A few of the Best of songs appear here – such as Over The Rainbow. There is a bit of audience patter between songs. It does include perhaps my favourite of her songs – The Man That Got Away – with an evocative sax accompaniment that underlines her emotionally commitment to the song. That’s one of the reasons I find her so compelling – she sings with an emotional commitment to to the lyric that few performers do without over-singing in that Star Search way. I believe her joy and her sadness.

That she became a gay icon is no surprise. I wouldn’t call myself a fan. I’ve enjoyed her movies, watched her TV shows on youtube but that has been enough for me. She wore her troubles on her face and her voice. Vulnerable without being melodramatic. She’s the gift that got away.

Axe Bite

Jack watched the reflection of the sun on his axe as it flashed through the air. He saw the reflection the moment before the blade sunk into the wood. The bite was solid, clean and with just enough force to do the job and no more. He was a man in control of his body, of his instrument.

He stood to wipe the sweat off his brow. He watched as Little Red walked along the path into the wood. He felt pride. His daughter. She was perfect in all ways. Sweet face. Ready smile and happy laughter.

That was why he had married. He didn’t really want a wife but he wanted a daughter. A child. Something of his own besides the cottage and the forest. They were things, she was a life.

A son would be nice too but Mabel wasn’t ready for more. Some enchantment of her mother’s he supposed. Women in these parts didn’t seem to bear more than one child in a life time.

His axe bit into another length of tree. Swing. Thwang. White chunks of the wood fall to the forest floor. The chop echoed a moment and stopped.

He strained his ears to hear the hum of her. Little Red’s song as she skipped along the path, he saw that picture clear in his mind.

His eyes focused on the axe, almost mirror like, his face a slippery smear of eyes and mouth. His mind’s eye saw Little Red stop and face the wolf before going on.

The wolf!

She wasn’t safe as long as there was a predator in the wood. His wood.

‘Jack! Jack.’ his wife called. She stood at the edge of the clearing, waving her apron. ‘You must eat now. I have a lunch spread for you. Come.’

‘Yes. I’ll be there shortly.’

His axe danced through the air to split another log.

‘No, Jack you must come now. You think I slaved all morning just to have to tell me to wait. No. Come now.’

He looked to her and sighed. Even when she meant well she gave him no peace. Never a moment to breath. One task after the other.

He stroked the sharp blade of the axe and headed into the wood along the path Little Red had taken.


March 8, Thursday – Hot Damn! It’s A Queer Slam Workshop: 4 pm at Glad Day with D’Scribe.

March 8, Thursday – Hot Damn! It’s A Queer Slam Slam: 8 pm Buddies In Bad Times Theatre Feature D’Scribe

HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

April 03 – 

June 8-9 – Capturing Fire 2018 – Washington D.C. (flight & hotel already booked) 

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The Shame of Ejaculation

The Shame of Ejaculation


you should have warned me

I couldn’t control myself

it’s a mess

I have to wash off right away

we can’t cuddle in this puddle

it’s sticky cold icky

too icky

it stains

it feels so good

then gets to be disgusting so fast



to talk about the taste of his lips

is romanic elevating

but to talk about the taste of his come

is degrading

reducing sex to fluid emissions

just isn’t proper it’s déclassé not polite

not done in good society

not suitable for dinner table conversation

we can talk about the death toll in Orlando

but not about the oral pleasures in Orlando

the loss of life is elevating

the swallowing of come is common


lack intellectual substance


only men with base instincts

would enjoying that sort of smutty talk

about semen

about coming

the shame of ejaculation

the subtext for sex-a-phobia

its okay if we kiss

but not if we come

love at first sight

not love at first shot

This is the first of the 13 saṃghādisesas. It starts with an ‘oops’ – a very common one of ejaculating at perhaps the wrong time & apologizing for it. It deals practical matter around what to do with the wet spot. No one likes to sleep on. I’m one of those who likes to have a warm damp facecloth handy when making out for quick clean ups so the flow won’t be too disturbed.


I’ve know guys who dash to wash as soon as they’ve come & others who cuddle awhile then get dressed without cleaning off at all. I never question but I always clean up before the second round. When opportunity presents a shower before round 3 is recommended.

The piece then shifts to how people respond to talk about sex. I’m pretty sure some that first paragraph more graphic than they are comfortable with. Talking about sperm is smutty. perhaps okay for giggling about but to talk about like some household task. Queer in theory is fine but don’t go into the messy details. We can talk about the gay serial killer in endless detail about let’s talk about your gay romantic life.

My first title for this piece was ‘Love At First Shot’ which is an ironic play on ‘love at first sight’ and ‘shoot first ask questions later’ but I saw that i was stepping away from the issue with a playful title that wasn’t so in your face. Oops, sorry, I have a damp cloth right here 🙂

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Lazarus Kiss.57

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.


Lazarus Kiss.57

Harris walked the few blocks south to his office. Was there an undercover cop tailing him. He glanced in store fronts to see what he could in their reflection. Was the stalker taking more pictures of him. Was a stranger going to brush up and fall in lust with him? Would Davros tackle them and not understand why neither of them remembered meeting. Should he get out of town. That held definate promise. Aruba here I come.


Walking up the steps of his exit from the subway Harris glanced around. Who was guarding him? Was the stalker near at hand. He had racked his brain trying to piece together the face of the guy who taken his and Marshall’s picture the other day. A male form was the best he could do. Holding a camera in front of his face. He did think it odd at the time that the guy walked away holding that camera in front of his face. Harris supposed now it was deliberate to keep his face covered.

Fire engines, sirens screaming, roared by. Several of them meant it had to be a big fire. Then police cars. There was band playing the park adding to the noise level. On the elevator up were two teenage guys with earbuds so loud he wondered if they were trying to drown out one another’s sad taste in music.

His apartment was cool and quiet. He stood with his back against the door to breathe in the cool quite of his apartment as he slipped off his runners.

“Just you and me tonight Andy.”

If he was going to keep the elf he really should get it clothes to wear besides his over sized tee-shirts.

His voice echoed in the silent apartment. His ears  gradually lost the echo of keyboards in the office, subway rumbles, crowd hurry and sirens.

He could hear his fly as he pulled the zipper down, hear his belt buckle as he undid it to let his pants drop to the floor. He tossed them with a flick of his foot to the back of his couch. His shirt landed with a soft rustle where he threw it to land beside his pants. Socks and undies quickly followed.

Peace and quiet. The cool of the kitchen floor was a welcome relief to his bare feet. He opened the freezer to see what he had to nuke for supper.

He heard a noise in the living room. He shut the fridge and listened intently.  Did he lock his door when he came in? He would have heard his apartment door open wouldn’t he. Was there someone in there when arrived? His flesh goose pimpled as he stood stark-naked, stock still in the kitchen. A shadow darted through the reflection of light from his balcony windows.

Another sound from the living-room. This time a little louder. His fucking cell was in his shoulder bag. The shoulder bag was on the bureau by the door. Fuck fuck fuck why didn’t have a phone in his kitchen. He looked to see what he could use to defend himself if he had to. There were knives in the cutlery drawer. He leaned forward to pull the drawer open. He inched it out as quietly as he could.

As he reached inthe drawer he felt a cool breath on his back. He fumbled for a knife in the drawer. Something cool and hard thumped him gently on the back. The goddamn fridge door had swung open. That was the cold breath.

He grabbed a pizza cutter and peeked into the living room. He saw nothing. Heard nothing. From the corner of his eye he saw a shadow dart though the light. Pigeons flew from his balcony rail.

Fuck! It was nothing. He tip-toed past the couch and to his shoulder bag. His pants and shirt had fallen to floor. That was what he had heard. Christ Alvereze’s warning had turned him into a bundle of nerves. He longed for a more inviting homecoming than Andy. Someone who would want to protect him. Someone who could handle themselves in a fight like Alex. Yeah as if that was going to happen.

He picked up his clothes. Emptied his pant pockets and dropped them into his laundry hamper. Shower first. But he’d never hear anything over the sound of the shower.

Not if he turned on Andy. He had changed all Andy’s defaults from auto start to manual start. He twisted the nipple and the elf’s eyes opened.

“Thank you Harris for turning me on.”


“With pleasure. I am ready for upgrades anytime you are.”

This meant that Santa had made new changes in the basic programming but he’d have to go fully on line to get the upgrades.

“Later little buddy.”

He positioned Andy in the hall by the bathroom door where motion would trigger his cameras. If the motion was close enough it would also trigger a vocal response.

Harris walked by to test it.

“Looking good tonight.” Andy said. The voice was loud enough for Harris to hear it in the shower.

What he didn’t hear while he was in the shower was his cell phone. There was a message from Alex. “Harris. Haven’t heard from ya in a few days. I’d real like to meet up with ya just t’talk. If we’re forced together we might as well figure it out t’gether, ya know, two heads better’un one. Give me a call.” he ended with his number.

“We’ll call him later.” Harris said to Andy.

He turned on his lap top. Went to his personal Sex Toy Shoppe, Andy Humphun page. The message about the up grades said. “The Andy Humphun’s preprogrammed vocabulary was limited to twelve thousand words. With this new upgrade you can teach Andy to say anything that isn’t now in his vocabulary.

“The feature allows customizing of his voice. Previously owners could only use the voices we had installed with limited pitch and speed various. With this new upgrade you can input any voice and program Andy to speak in it. You can use any voice source for this. At least three minutes of the voice is needed for it to be digitized properly.

Harris agreed to the conditions and downloaded the upgrades. Andy’s fingers twitched to show that his hard drive was accepting the upgrades.

“That was fun.” Andy said.

What voice to use?Harris wished had his dvd collection of the 60’s Spiderman cartoon show. It would be ultra-cool to have J Jonah Jameson’s voice say “Thank you for turning me on.”

He wasted twenty minutes searching for clips on line but the sound quality of what he saw wasn’t good enough or long enough either. Why not Alex’s voice.

He was able to transfer the recent voice message into the voice program. Andy’s fingers twitched.

‘Voice program’ completed flashed on his computer screen. He walked past Andy.

“Looking good tonight.”

The voice sounded like Alex was in the room. Crazy. He programmed Andy to respond with various phrases by saying things such as “Let’s have fun tonight.” “You like that don’t you.”

The last thing he did was set Andy to a variety of start up phrases to have not hear “Thank you for turning me on Harris” again.

“You having fun.” Harris said tickling Andy’s balls.

“Let me rub your belly, baby.” Andy replied.

Harris laughed until he began to cry. He saw how a toy like this had amazing sales potential beyond its sex play function. Better than a parrot for keeping you company.

He looked at the time. Three hours had passed and he hadn’t eaten, hadn’t thought of the stalker. The old saw was right about time flying when you’re having a fun.

Harris saw this as change in his usual stress response. No reaching for food to numb his fears.

“Change is good.” he said to Andy as he took him back to his spot in the corner by the door.

Andy said nothing.

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Real Writing

Not as deep into the edit mine of Coal Dusters as I had hoped – odd how people you haven’t heard from in months want to get together the week I started serious editing work. They always pick the time I’ve set aside for editing as the only times they are free & never say ‘I hope that’s a good time for you.’ or they’ll say okay see when you can & we’ll talk about your novel.” Of course when, & if, we do meet, all they want to talk about is their novel, or rather how hard it is to promote their novel & how they wish they had as much ‘free’ time as I do to do some real writing. Clearly because I’m not going the traditional publisher route I’m not doing any real writing.

The edits are, so far, pretty easy. Cut here & there with expansions here & there too so its getting longer as opposed to shorter. I’m being aware of things like keeping the use language suitable to the period. There’ll be no one saying ‘as if’ or ‘get over it.’ I’m also aware of my characters education levels, of their class a sit relates to language & even sentence structure.

I did some research by reading some of the big novels of the time to see how those writers dealt with dialogue. The more educated the the more elevated. I‘m avoiding swearing too. When I saw the Gangs of New York I didn’t believe the constant use of ‘fuck.’ Not that it wasn’t used but … so my guys will be swearing in Gaelic. Gaelic was used more frequently then anyway but I’m not going to go full accuracy just enough to give the flavour.

It’s been comfortable & comforting to slip back into this world that I created. I’ve enjoyed adding descriptive details – smells, fabric, colour – to bring the story even more to life for the readers. I have to admit I love the names as well. Birk, Clancy, Lillian, Red Mac, Blackie – they all ring real even though Birk is a total fabrication on my part. Better go – my characters are calling me 🙂

Wild Desire

the subway is crowded for two stops

then clears    seats available  I sit

iPod playlist ends   time for a new one

making that all important decision

a man sits beside me

I only spare him a glance

intent on that playlist   then my book

my transit guardian angels


the man stops my hand

before I can push in

sound suppressing ear buds

he says – I love you

just what I need some religious freak

who thinks I need to be saved

I push the buds in

he pulls them out

I look around

does anyone see this assault

there something about your face

I want to get to know you


he wasn’t that bad looking

I like a man who needs a shave

he smelled good too

sorry I’m not ...

you think you are too good for me

it’s not that but …

you think I’m too young

maybe I don’t have a job

get to know me

you want me in your life


his gaze held mine

I was afraid he was going to kiss me

I glanced around again

people buried behind newspapers  sleeping

I love you

I love that searching look in your eyes

you won’t regret it – take a chance

don’t you find me appealing

how can I tell with you so close

but you want me close to you don’t you

you want me


the car crowded again

I stood for the next stop

even though it wasn’t mine

he got up with me

we were pushed out

to the platform

he went into the crowd


I stepped back into the car

the doors closed


I get off alone at my stop


from wild desire


HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

June 8-9 – Capturing Fire 2018 – Washington D.C. (flight & hotel already booked) 

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I Dig Editing

The extra rough draft is ready! At over 111,000 words it better be ready as I prepare to start the cutting, shaping, scraping & making sure the spelling is consistent. That’s right I’m ready to edit Coal Dusters to start blogging it in a couple of months. Step one was to assemble all the sections that I had written way back in 2012, 2013. Most of which I haven’t seen since first writing them. Only a few of which have even had a typo edit.

The plan is to go through each of the 50 sections – make an outline & notes of what happens in each section to fit it into a timeline. In my past novels I found I had too much happening in one day or even one week. My notes will also include things like hair colour etc to make sure no one goes from red-head to brown. Same with injuries.

I’m not sure what to call the novel. The basic plot is two miners in love with each other against the backdrop of the bitter strike in mid-20’s. Coal Dusters is a working title but I’m not sure how good that is – it doesn’t reveal much – perhaps with the right graphic it will work though – two guys stripped to the waist, so covered in coal dust only their are really visible.

I’m hoping that as I edit, & rewrite, something will come to me that conveys more than Coal Dusters. The original title was ‘The Priest’s Niece’ – as the novel follows two story lines – Birk & Clancy’s friendship & Lillian – banished by her Boston family to live with her priest uncle in Cape Breton. I love the sonics of Priest’s Niece – but in a workshop it was found to be too ‘bee’s knees.’ ‘Love In The Pits’ is too comic, as is ‘I Dig You.’


I was taking a leak in a bar washroom

there was a message on the wall

‘for better bj than jesus call ….’

the cynic in me was mildly amused

as I sanitized my hands

the theological implications

started to reveal themselves to me

I knew Christ did miracles

but that wasn’t one that I recalled

though I have had some amazing bj’s

that give me a reason to go on living

but that JC might’ve be into that

had never crossed my mind

it did put that whole last supper

command ‘take and eat’

into a completely different light

I saw how sacrilegious the graffiti was

the deep disrespect it showed the sacred

would these thoughts result

in my condemnation to eternal damnation

was I as bad the person who wrote this

or am I a jaded indifferent observer

with no real faith or direction

someone to whom a blow job

is more significant than salvation

should I have called the number

or does it matter

what apparition appears in front of anyone

as long as it makes them think of faith


HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

June 8-9 – Capturing Fire 2018 – Washington D.C. (flight & hotel already booked) 

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy ice cream in Washington at 2018’s – sweet,eh?

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Don’t F**k With Me

Don’t F**k With Me

it changes your d.n.a

alters your chromosomes

creates a blood brain barrier

between you and your higher consciousness

once is all it takes

you can never turn back

you are infected for life

sullied beyond compare

your authentic spiritual values

have been sacrificed

to physical pleasure

you will never be satisfied

all who are virtuous   unsullied

will sense your lack of purity

they will have nothing to do with you

even those who have fallen

will shun you

as they shun each other

except for those frantic moments

of mutual self-abasement

that deny them fulfillment

grace will never return

to your life

which means

like all those who have partaken

you will have no life

no after life

no present life

only a life

numbing the sense of loss

with diversion

These 227 Rules for monks proved to be wild prompts – some, like this first one, proved to be very easy to run with. This the first of the 4 pārājikas. It starts as a list poem but rather than merely name off the standard reasons to avoid intercourse – i.e. pregnancy or disease – I went directly to the moral, cultural admonitions that spring from this unbalanced view that sex is good but dirty – that to enjoy carnality is superficial & shallow.

Some of that comes from the separation of mind from body from spirituality. Truly spiritual people transcend the physical and are therefore pure & deep. The notion that the spiritual opens us up to greater sexual pleasure is heretical. There is a ring of Dante’s hell for the likes of me I guess – where we taste pleasure with one part of the body while our feet are set on fire at the same time. But let’s face it shame haunts more than our feet or our private parts.

There’s also a powerful sex subtext around HIV & the use of contagion to further shame people – is sex worth dying for? Why can’t you people lead a sexless life of physical purity? One of things to remain an ‘approved’ queer is not to remind anyone about the sex part of homosexual – not in front of the children or pets. Queer is so addictive just to see two same-sex people kissing is enough to spread it, it is so contagious.


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Lazarus Kiss.53

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.


Lazarus Kiss.53

He checked his bank account and the healthy balanced was now healthier thanks to the overtime bonus he’d got from Santa.

“Thank Santa for me.” He turned to Andy.

The seat sale prices kept going up between booking and paying. He tried several times and was tempted to call the toll free number to get the price he expected but the endless wait for a customer service representative wasn’t worth it. Instead he called Casa Della directly.

“Ah Mr Harris good to hear from you. You are going to be visiting us soon I hope.” Carlos Brando was the owner of Casa Della.

“If I can get a good flight Carlos. I was wondering if you could …”

“It would be my distinct pleasure to be of assistance Mr Harris. What dates did you have in mind.”

“Anything before the end of the September.”

“I am writing that down. I will make sure you have your usual room?”


“Danki. You will be alone again though?”

“Sadly, yes.”
“Not that sadly for you. You were never alone for long when you were here.” Carlos chuckled knowingly.

“I hope I’m a changed man Carlos. This year I want to remember the view from my bedroom not the … things I view in my bedroom”

“Quite right sir. I will get on this right away and will let you know shortly.”

“Thanks again Carlos.”

He closed his phone. His stomach grumbled. He went to his fridge and his appetite had returned. He pushed the tubs of extra creamy maple walnut ice cream aside and pulled out a lasagna. One double cheese delicious lasagna would be enough.

Barely thirty minutes has passed before Harris heard back from Carlos.

“That was fast Carlos.” He could hear music in the background.

“One must act fast at time to catch the moment. You called at a most fortuitous moment. We have staying with us representatives for the Grandest Tour Group.”

“I’ve heard of them.” Grandest were a ultra deluxe tour packaging company. One few could afford.

“I can offer you an amazing opportunity.” He quoted prices to Harris.

“What! That’s like more than half the best price I could find.”

“Call their direct line, ask for the Corpo agent and give them this code Casax129q. You have that.”

Harris wrote the details on the back cover of Andy’s user manual.

“Thanks Carlos.”

“We will happy to see you soon.”

Harris called the Grandest number and when he gave his code to the agent he discovered that it wasn’t simple after all. The one catch was that this price was only good if he could leave within five days. He couldn’t let this opportunity slip away so he booked his departure for the following Tuesday. He’d need that time to to make arrangements with dE.tail to get the time off.

*48* Wednesday

He went directly to Tavi’s office when he got to work in the morning. He knocked on the door. There was metallic click and the door opened.

Her desk was empty.

“Come in Harris.”

He stepped in but didn’t see her. The door closed behind him. The only chair was the one behind her desk.

“Please step closer to within camera range. Yes that’s fine.”

He coughed.

“You had something to tell me Harris?”

“Ah … yes … I’m like to take two weeks off starting Tuesday.”

The screen of the monitor that was facing away from him flickered.

“I’m just checking to see what is coming in next week. Back to Aruba?”


“I envy you getting away.”

I envy you not even being here and still running things. How often had they thought she was in her office when she was elsewhere running things by texting.

“You did a great job with the Big Tots. The images look great on their app. You have a remarkable eye for the selling detail.”

“Thank you.”

“There. It’s all set. But please promise me you’ll take a lap top with you. We can’t afford to have your brilliant eyes gone that long.”

“Thanks Tavi.”

“Remember if we contact you you get a juicy bonus.”

“Thanks again.”

Harris’s concentration on the toe cleavage issue in Shoeville’s sultry evening sandals for summer collection final sale was broken by a sharp scream from one of the other cubicles.

“What is it” Dusan’s head appeared as he apparent stood on a piece of sports apparatus to take a look around the other cubicles.

Harris left his cubical. “That sounded like Jodis.”

Before Dusan could join him Jodis strode out. Her one fist clenched and punching empty, air the other firmly clutching her cellphone.

“He has killed a child.”

“Who?” Dusan looked to Harris and then to Jodis.

“The Stalker. It is on twitter.”

“You sure?” Harris went to his cubical and checked one of the online news pages.

“It won’t be there yet.” Jodis said. “They found the body this past hour. The police.”

“That makes three The Stalker has killed.” Dusan frowned. “That is three they’ve told us about.”

“He believes he can get away with anything. Anything.” Jodis paced impatiently.

Harris wasn’t sure what to say.

“Did that detective tell you anything when she was here yesterday.”

“Only that the guy I interrupted wasn’t the one.” He wasn’t going to tell them about the message with its veiled threat.

Harris was seeing spots every time he looked from his screen. The red spots of the Lady Fancy This fall lingerie collection were white spots dancing around his cubical when he turned to rest his eyes. At least there was nothing crotchless to worry about.

His cell rang.

“Hi Pops. Let’s lunch.”

“You have the wrong number.”

“It’s Marshall. Calling you Harris or Dad are too formal, I hoped ‘Pops’ might work.  I’m leaving today but ducked out early from that MTV morning show interview to lunch with you. How about it?”

“Sure. Where are you?”

“Getting off the elevator and walking into your office.”

Harris stepped out his cubical and there was Marshall putting his phone away.

“I gave Mom the slip too. But she has GPS in her blood so she could show up at any minute.” He laughed loudly.

Jodis and Dusan came out of their cubicles.

“I’d like you to meet Marshall Caldwell my … cousin.”

Dusan printed out pictures of Marshall from the Mirror Mind web site and got him to sign them before they could get away.

“Sorry about that.”

“I’m used to it. At lest they didn’t expect me to have a backpack of glossies to sign for them. Left those with Blake. I take it there are lots of decent places to eat around here.” He patted Harris on the belly. “You know, I could get my trainer to set up a program for you. Wouldn’t take too long to firm you up.”

“Funnily you aren’t the only person who made that offer this week. How’s pizza?”

“Fine by me. The offer wasn’t from that child you took to the gala last night was it?”

“Child? Becky.” Harris didn’t know how old Becky was.

“I didn’t think you would liked ‘em that young.”

“I don’t. I never thought of how old she was.”

“Oh, she’s legal but barely I’d say. Mom has trained me to very careful.”

They ordered at the counter of the Mamma S’s by Harris office and took a booth in the back were it was less likely Marshall would be spotted. Harris had to sit facing the window to make it harder to spot Marshall.

“Harris you gotta know how weird this is. Having two fathers I mean. I pitched it though.”

“Pitched it?”

“Yeah to Mike D, my agent. You gotta always be working on the thing after the next thing, generating it whenever possible. I suggested what if a guy learns his real dad is someone who could pass for his older brother. He didn’t think that had enough impact.”

A man came to their table. He held a camera at his eye which told them what he wanted. He stepped back, crouched to eye level with them and took a couple pictures. He walked away when their pizza arrived.

“Next I tried the curse. Guys attracts then forgets as does what he attracts. He says that idea has legs for sure as long as we have a great way to break the curse. Some nasty confrontation between me and the person who puts the curse on me.”

“On you?” Harris pulled a gooey piece of pizza and bite into it.

“Yeah I only pitch ideas for me. We figured the best twist would be if a granddaughter of the witch who cursed our family fell in love with me because of the curse.”


“There’d be a CGI scary ghost witch fight scene where my wire-work stunt skills and pure love would dispel the curse.”

“And when the witch was dispatched the granddaughter wouldn’t remember you?”

“Whoa good ideating.” he took out his phone. “I’m gonna text that to Mike right now. Didn’t see that coming. Audiences love it when they don’t see it coming.”

“Resist having her remember her love but you’re at the airport boarding a plane to … Aruba … and she races to the airport to join you. She misses it but you see her as the plane lifts off to any song by Death Cab For Cutie.”

“That’s good.” He kept texting. “We should put you on the payroll.”

“No. I just want credit for the idea. Something like ‘based on a true story taken from the life of ….”

“No! No! shaken not taken from the Steven’s family tree.”

“What if one of the conquests cursed a serial killer who follows you and kills off anyone else you ever sleep with till you finally face with them in the basement of a deserted mental hospital.”

Marshall started in on a piece of pizza. “Too dark.” He wiped his mouth.

Two blushing Asian girls came to the table. They asked about the new movie. One took pictures with her cell phone. The other asked if he had a picture to sign for her.

“What did I tell you.” He joked to Harris.


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Dark of Five


in the dark of five in the afternoon

I have no fear of death

just a fear that putting it in words

becomes an invocation

to what needs no invitation



duende knows no time

no clock no light

nothing is needed

nothing is sacred

diversion is sacramental worship

as long as there is no need to focus

there is no need to fear

there is nothing to push away

the duende brings its own ripe red bite

the edges are crisp clear

you are just wretched rat shit

hoping that you have a way out

there is no need to escape

there no where to go

where the black ribbon won’t tie you

cannot define you but will end you

no need for need

all will be hidden revealed discarded



my fear is that only in death

will I be discovered

that the vast treasure I contain

will only spill forth

like gold nuggets hidden under my skin

when death slices that thin membrane

to send them raining ringing like love



in the dark of five

do I dare invoke duende

while I sit at my window

the fade of an ice etched day

the mortal cold of that snap grip

dances between dust flashes

the empty air ghost filled



I call upon the balsam east

rising hope’s dream language

to assuage pain it can never cure


I call upon the spruce south

the scald of blooded lusts

words tossed to defend portents

all that has passed and will come


I call upon the Douglas west

a sense of past to build on

recall the many who have stood here

to evoke from you a shared memory

our separate histories that

understand pine but see a different box


I call upon the evergreen north

the clarity of moon on brittle snow

the gash of revenge regret atonement

join with the strength from below


the earth that holds divines the future

it has the silence of the sky above

the sun to reflect on us

who count on words to illuminate

what turns out not to be seeable

in the dark of five in the afternoon

Several people have asked me about this piece. I thinks it’s a good one to end the year of Wednesday’s with. We are in a time when it is the Dark of Five O’Clock. As well this is the ‘dead’ of winter and the piece deals with death. It is an older piece written with the clear influence of Federico García Lorca. Ive read bios, have a fat collected works – fat with English on side & Spanish on the other. I read it every other year.

The title comes form one his better known pieces “Five in the Afternoon” His line goes: It was five of a dark afternoon! The line was more a prompt which took me in many directions as opposed to an homage to Lorca but something in which I tried to capture his poetic essence. It started as a series of random images – not in the order here. I wrote them over a couple of weeks as well.

Some of it is a contemplation on the nature of fame, creativity & mortality. Lorca was well-respected in his time but not financial successful. His sexuality & the culture pressures around otherness shaped much of his voice, though at least one biographer call it his “tragic flaw.’ Fuck – it was his culture’s (& many other culture’s) response to otherness that is the tragic flaw.

There is also a reflection on the notion of ‘as ye think, so shall it be’ So to think of death is to invite it? to rush it? To write about makes those thoughts more concrete. My fear isn’t of death but that writing about will cause it 🙂

I love some of use of language & images in this & when I perform it speaking lines like ‘ripe red bite’ ‘the black ribbon won’t tie you’ “raining ringing like love’ give me great pleasure. They show some of the Dylan Thomas influence on my writing. As I edited it for flow I broke it into sections then titled the sections. The Consternation section, for me, is magical in the clearness of the image & the power of the subtext.

Lorca often wrote about his cultural folk lore so the final section is pure Canadiana. I have participated in various ceremonies that call on the power of the directions . a ceremony that runs through Native North American & South American tribes, as does appear in Wiccan traditions as well. After I was done I did some research on the trees for each direction, the assignment is mine though. Then I wrap it up with the image that started the piece.

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Lazarus Kiss.52

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.


Lazarus Kiss.52

On the coffee table were the photocopies Harris had left with her. One had notes and writing, with small diagrams on the backs of others. The writing was in squiggles he didn’t recognize.

“Have you noticed any changes in your … relations …. with people since you first heard about this?’ she gestured at the photocopies.

“I’ve been more cautious, if that’s what you mean. Aware that they may not be really attracted to me at all.”

“Yes. Yes. But I mean something more. Have you resisted?”

“Oh yeah.” Harris told her about declining Francis’s offer before he knew about the curse.

“I see. What happened as a result?”

He thought a moment. “Her boyfriend attacked me. Shortly after which his mother beat the crap out of my apartment door.”

“Then this is a munus sanguine. A blood blessing. Very ancient and powerful. When you decline what it attracts to you, you pay a price.”

“If I say no to it, it kicks me in the ass till I say uncle?”

She made a wry face. “That is possible. In addition it can effect all your friendships and work relationships in negative ways.”

“That might explain Becky. I didn’t think the blessing had brought together. We both remembered each other and weren’t that interested, or so it seemed. First she was interested, then she wasn’t. It’s complicated. She was after … ” He didn’t want to explain about Andy. “She was like a woman who only digs you because of your car.”

“Yes. Yes. A munus sanguine would cause that. It’s an aura, an energy it creates to serve you. It wants you to be satisfied. I’m not clear it if means to actually harm you but when its aim is frustrated it does what it can to keep you focused on being satisfied.”

“I’m not sure if getting my ribs fractured is the road to satisfaction. What about this guy who won’t leave me alone.”


“Yeah! Look I’ve never been into queer stuff but one guy caught the curse fever. He’s not threatening at all. I made out with him to see if that would end the attraction. I felt that once we acted on it we’d be free of the curse.”

“You did not forget?”

“Nope. Neither did he. It certainly didn’t give me satisfaction. More like a dose of confusion.”

“I don’t know enough yet to tell you what this means. From my readings about the munus sanguine it becomes dormant the less one gives in to it and as one ages as well. The nature of the satisfaction becomes less physical.”

“And it gets passed on from father to son.”

“Yes. Does your son have knowledge of it?”

“Yes. How did you know I had a son?”

“It was in your palm.”

“Oh. Anyway, I met him for the first time this past weekend and told him. Me and my dad. All three of in a room together. I suppose the curse was jumping up and down with joy.”

“Have been aware of when the blessing is happening?”

“Yes. There’s a gleam in the eyes of the other person that I now recognize. I didn’t see that with Becky which is why …”

“Yes. Yes. You have resisted as a result.”

“Yes. There hasn’t been any ‘action’ recently.”

“Yes, but how about danger. I sense you are in danger.”

He told her about the Stalker.

“The munus’s aura is calling on what it can.”

“But you said it doesn’t want to hurt me.”

“It may want you to forget it. That would allow it can continue to act without your awareness. This is one way of diverting your attention.”

“But if it gets me killed?”

“It lives in your son already. It will go on.”

“So if my son doesn’t have children it will be finished.”

“Let us hope that never happens. As you can see what is happening to you for it to … survive .. think what it would do if it had no other way to continue.”

“Okay. Okay. If I accept all this how do I deal with it? Keep screwing around when it holds that blessing gun to my head. Screw around or I’ll fracture more than a rib?”

“It was given to your ancestor. I believe it can be given away by you. It has to given with awareness though. Awareness that you are giving it and what the consequence will be for whomever you bestow it on.”

“Why would I bestow this on another victim.”

“It was given to your ancestor for revenge, I think. I have read the diary entries several times. Rowell felt betrayed when Tobias chose not to continue protecting him as he felt he should be protected.”

“Or maybe he saw it as a chance to give it away. It free himself of it.”

“Very possible Harris. Awareness is your only real defence.”

“But if the people acting because of this aura aren’t aware I’m vulnerable. Christ the bus driver could turn on me, right?”

“No. Your awareness level is now too high for anything that random.”

“Do you have an amulet for me. A relic to ward off, what did you call it, the last time I was here – the eye of love.”

“I wish I did Harris.’

Harris recalled what Marshall has said about the Mirror Mind movie where breaking the mirror didn’t release him from it but only made everything worse for everyone in the next movie. “I wonder if breaking the spell is the right way to go? What’ll happen to me, to my dad if I succeed in getting it out of our … blood line?”

“Everything has a price, a consequence. Even doing the right thing. Surgery to remove a cancer always leaves a scar.”


“What are you willing to sacrifice to be free of it? I will continue my investigations. There is always more when one knows where to look.”

Outside Harris ate another of the Quknrg bars as he waited for the bus. Almoneutra was more caramel than almond. He leaned against the bus shelter. Nothing could sneak up on him if he leaned heavily enough against the wall.

He checked his phone. No messages.

Nothing to read in his shoulder bag either unless he read the wrappers for the remaining Quknrg bars but he didn’t want to spoil the flavour surprises. If they weren’t supposedly healthy he might have felt satisfaction while wolfing them down.


At his apartment he stripped off and headed for the shower. If he could have washed the curse out of him he would have stood there for hours. He missed his hair too. Drying what remained of it in the mirror he wasn’t sure if he was the same man.

What had happened to the long haired mindless guy who’d eat ice cream out of the carton standing naked in front the freezer while deciding which two frozen meals to toss into the microwave or if ordering Wong’s dinner for three was a better option. He missed plum sauce for his pop tarts in the morning.

He stood the scale. Holy fuck! Ten pounds less? Had Alex rubbed that much out his belly the other night?

Yeah he had been eating less but not that much less. Or did the curse now want him thin. What was that phrase, ‘nothing tastes as good as thin feels.’

Naked he went to his kitchen and looked in the cupboards, the fridge. Most of his favourites were there but nothing appealed. Nothing. Not even the doubled dipped strawberry frosted chocolate filled pop tarts.

He opened his lap top. Time to plan a vacation. Whether he went or not, planning never failed to clear his mind. He checked airfares to Aruba, noticed that there were a few sweet specials over the next couple of weeks. He knew some of the resorts they included weren’t as good as the pictures showed them to be.

He admired the selective way the resorts had been photographed, nice sunsets with pretty bikini clad girls cavorting with tanned, hairless guys in sunsets on clean white beaches. Beaches he knew weren’t that white or that clean but that with simple photo manipulation were stunning, seductive.

If he went he wouldn’t go to any of these places anyway. He’d made that mistake on his first trip there. He checked Casa Della, his favorite, but they had no spaces available for the next two weeks. Not that he’d be going there that soon.

The time share prices hadn’t changed since he last checked them. Would he want a one or two bedroom? Since he couldn’t afford either why not go for that two bedroom with an ocean view. No, better yet, an in land view. Sunrise was better than sunset and when one of the frequent storms blew in there’s be less risk of losing his windows.

He could feel the Andicuri Beach sand between his toes. What the hell why not book it? Escape was in order after all that had being going on the past few weeks. He deserved a break.

He checked his bank account and the healthy balanced was now healthier thanks to the overtime bonus he’d got from Santa.

“Thank Santa for me.” He turned to Andy.

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


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