Archive for July, 2011


the oyster


you’re asking me to slow down
but then the scenery starts to come into focus
and you’ll catch glimpses of things
hiding behind the treeline

the strange animals
with strange spots
grazing in the pastures of my past
and things are quiet

when i’m not trumpeting
and shouting exclamations of
romance and throwing confetti and streamers
of theatrical celebration

the plates begin to drop
and the unicycle turns over
as i hesitate and consider
the deceleration

the oyster around my heart
shut tight

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a winnipeg summer


grinding along the gritty winnipeg streets
eating dust and chewing pipes
the bricks are turning to sand
and my skin’s cracked in half

the sky’s mouth sucks us in
towards the farthest point of deepest blue
no shadow or shade to hold on to
stark florescent glaring white

we’re all shades of grey in this light
veins quiver and shake under our skin
memories of frost and wind
not yet distant

our mouths hang open
and we swallow the heat whole
catching the flies and moths
that batter themselves dead against our teeth

en route to albert


treason


Why does my own heart begin to sabotage
The bliss and sweetness of new
Questions and darkens and anxiety obsessed
Have you noticed the panic in my voice?

I thought I knew how to swim and tread
But the currents in this water are unfamiliar
Struggling to control my feet but they’re
Gone from under me

Stinging from the weightier cold
My heart, stop treading stop swimming
Float again and grab the sunlight
Shay shay across the warm luminescent surface

And learn to trust again