Sliding into the 2015 Future

If you take look at my up coming events you’ll see I’ve made definite plans to be creatively active this year – more than I have in past years. I should add here that I make plans not results. Life often has a habit of changing plans but that’s no reason not to make them either.

tree01 into the trees

The one big plan not on the events list is to get my first novel finally smash worded – I just need to get someone to do the formatting, then get my USA tax number so the royalties can finally start rolling in 🙂 Don’t laugh stranger things have happened to hapless authors.

tree02 weep for me?

Last year I stepped back from doing open stages & will continue that expect for the occasional one just to keep in shape. It takes as much work, on my part, got do a three minute rush as it does to do a full feature so I’m saving my energy & picking my spots carefully.

I already have my tickets for the Colloquium & FanExpo: early bird prices are hard to resist. Loyalist hasn’t been confirmed yet but plans are made.


tree dizzy

I’m most excited by getting to Washington in June for Capturing Fire. I haven’t done a poetry focused workshop event for some time & never a queer one. It’s been years since I’ve been on a plane – not since Frisco five years ago. I’ve already made hotel & flight reservations. Now to decide what to wear.



1959 Aug Me and my bros 1

Sliding Into The Past

it’s about these

color slides from the 60’s

me before glasses

squinting because of the light

not because I was trying to see into the future

pictures of that self-consumed boy

holding baby bother, sisters

he didn’t want to share his parents with

playing with other kids

he didn’t want to be bothered with

never secure enough

for rough and tumble

there is some actual residual memory

of a few of these moments

of being on the beach

no not of the beach at all

just of that tanned man

in a white bathing suit

that bulged enough

for me to be fascinated

some from by a waterfall

a spot known to locals for picnics

but not a tourist draw at all

I remember the waterfall

but not the picnics

I recall going there later

with friends

with a case of beer

bottles of wine

to enjoy the setting and shoot the breeze

drinking buddies

cemented into lifelong

bonds of comradeship

over guitars smokes and booze

heartfelt confessions of love lost or wanted

the philosophy of some counter culture

back to the land

that would change the corporate domination of lives

that could overthrow the templates

of culture for the better

then we grew up

today I can’t name for sure

one of those bright eyed drunks

even the ones I was in lust with

afraid to come clean about desires

that weren’t included

in any of their visions of the future

they all wanted a women to settle down with

their desire to overthrow the templates

didn’t go so far as to break free

of those mating cultural imperatives

they wanted a possessive love

that would guarantee horizons of happiness

while I just wanted

not to be afraid of what I wanted

in my slide to the future

1959 Gillis Lake Falls 3

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Hot Damn!

As a member of an esteemed panel of judges – Lizzie Violet, David Bateman, Cate McKim & random audience members, I finally got to try out my best JLo frowns at Hot Damn! It’s a Queer Slam, Wednesday night at Supermarket in Kensington. Whew, now that’s a long sentence.

All too often I find myself the only gay guy at a poetry event. There are some trans, queer women who I see around but the guys are rare. I’ve blogged about this before so won’t go it it again. At Hot Damn! there were other queer men in the room & I wasn’t the only one over 50. Sweet.

toys love the Disney dildo and other colourful sex toys

The event is hosted by the potty-mouthed Cathy Petch (who would rather be pussy-mouthed, if you get her drift). Free of her pervious host duties she was more free-wheeling and out there than ever & was clearly happy to have the chance to just be herself with a like minded audience. She and Brock Hessel are the organizers of this much needed slam.

Hot Damn! is sponsored by LBGTOut and Get Screened, both of whom made brief presentations. LBGTOut reminded us about World AIDS day. David Bateman read a portion of his piece about being diagnosed ‘How Does it Feel’ – ‘it’s like getting a whole new lease of life, but a very short term’ – funny, emotional and surreal.

blackhat head shot

The slammers were excellent, all very different in approach to queer, bi themes. It’s hard to make notes & score at the same time but some lines I caught ‘we are close/single bed close,’ ‘the rough draft of my body,’ ‘I alway fall for straight women,’ ‘my body is not scared, but its not a ruin either.’ Sorry if I didn’t get exact wording (drop me a note & I’ll correct.)

I’ve heard Regie Cabico a few times and his ease on stage is a joy to watch. He’s funny, emotionally real, direct, surreal and compelling plus is a hot Philippine stud. ‘Harriet Tubman was my slam coach,’ ‘I was never Asian enough for the roles I was auditioning for,’ ‘your fucking is foreshadowing,’ ‘Trojan as heavenly host.’ He’s made me seriously consider going to Catching Fire – not the movie but the international gathering of queer slam poets this June in Washington (maybe I’ll crowd fund my trip there.)

doors try door number 3

Check out 🙂 A vibrant night of energetic, emotionally connected & connecting poetry that I’ll make a regular monthly (when it is in Toronto) show not to be missed.

lifewithmorecowbell on the same show, with pics:



December 14 – special guest spot – Lizzie Violet’s Cabaret Noirnoirmas


I  hit the open stage with this, Moonbelly & Last Will & Testament

Art Abstracted

what do you do when art stops working

when the frame is the attraction

the word becomes conclusion

even when there is no way back

you wouldn’t go back even if you could

memory can’t be changed

filtered scribbled over tattered torn

art gives it less than it needs

without the image

would there be reason to look

if the TV was a black blank

that didn’t reflect our fevered faces

as we peer into it scrying for an answer

when the answer isn’t art but industry

when the artist becomes the freak

the curio that uses a pencil paper

how pretentious it is to dip a brush

use actual language

instead of breaking things into relics

that at the right distance

form an impression of misty bitterness

at not being as famous an artist as …

well I can’t name a famous artist

because it takes one to know one

which is what happens when

art doesn’t work anymore

if a starlet falls in a club

and there are no cameras present

did she make a noise

that sort of glib patina of cynical flash

is the art that works today

shoots off at the lip

in an attempt to distract

long enough for something real to happen

fast for a moment blur then gone

as we don’t want it to be remembered

history is for dead people

death is art that has stopped working

snowpurses purses in the snow

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(read out loud as fast as you can 🙂 )


moonbelly sings

the system cannot withstand close scrutiny

moonbelly sings

cities are centres of copulation

The voice male female sings the truth

cities are centres of copulation

people long to hump wherever they can

homes are only places to

hide our bodies when we copulate

a property system

that cannot withstand close scrutiny

without falling apart at the seams

without being found wanting

more houses for humping

systems that keep the hidden in its place

seeking out moist crannies

in bathroom stalls

dark cafe corners

groping   stroking

longing for closer scrutiny

a cry of mercy mercy me

I want to be taken down to the river

that flow through the city

that is the centre of copulation

where there are fashionable shoes

come milk me pumps

blowing the water into the air

a fountain of orgiastic tropes

shag hump bump get it on

we all want to get it on

praying for the right opportunity

to come along

and drop its sacred pants

while acting as if there isn’t a sweet itch

waiting to be scrutinized

smiling in anticipation

trying not to look too desperate

because no one is that desperate

in this centre of copulation

there is always something there to remind you

it’s time to wake up get down to it

rise and let the sun crawl over your flesh

even where it doesn’t shine

it wants in

it wants to taste what some call sin

we all want to take that hasty dash

along the right of way

to do it the right way

to do do do do it all night long

fountains of bursting potential

raining down wet sloppy kisses

on all who put aside shallow shame

at being happy to be here

in this centre of copulation

this city that scrutinizes each and every soul

points it to towards the right hole

wink wink nudge nudge

you gotta wanna get it on and on

many don’t even care with who

when moonbelly sings

it always brings a tear to my fly

‘cause it’s no use sighing over spilt guilt

grill under wooden bars

This is one of my favourite pieces for performing. The breath control required though is demanding & usually I do it to get energy flowing for a set. I love the bounce of rhymes, half rhymes, fleeting images that connect over-the-top moments  “fountains of bursting potential/raining down wet sloppy kisses” to create a roller-coaster of fun.


under white bars

This is as close to slam style as I get, or want to get. It lacks the anger or social consciousness that gets points – too much fun. I wanted to write something that was all out joyous about sex.

construction under construction

I love the song references (almost demanded by slam) plus the reference to a most obscure singer – you’ll never find this song on YouTube. I performed first a few years ago with SoulFistikato doing vocal beat box for it. Sublime.

Made a last minute decision to dust it off for the open stage at Hot Damn! tonight. I was asked to be one of the judges & figured why not get some stage time in while I was at it.


snowy snowman

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