sweet treat.

if someone offers you some sugar,
you should eat it.

ice water.

briney waters singe their skins
icy waves drive them back again
helmets, oars and swords
are washed upon the shore.

the water demon's eyes are pink and green
scales of silver mirror mesmerize
the most beautiful thing you've ever seen
spits bile into your eye.

at the coroner's office (after Dani Couture).

The road that leads into the forest
may not be the one that leads you out.

The hand knows the will of the heart,
yet is unwilling to make the move.

Show me your greyhound-like strut, the graceful dip
of the knife into the skin.

At last, the tulips are in bloom
on Quinpool!

The sweet drip of your seduction is more intoxicating
and deadly than your anger.

Have you not always had such small hands?

A starling's hop on the lawn,
a blackbird's lost feather,

the way the finch crushes whatever comes across its beak --
that is, into nothingness --

you've got the attributes of a cold case romance.

another found haiku.

I should dig a hole,
to put dead ideas and seeds
where those things belong.

barges.

your love is like
a commercial freighter in Bedford Basin:
slow, yet steadily moving along the shore,
bull-headedly determined in its direction,
able to carry such heavy weight,
and easily recognizeable from afar.

an honest haiku about Alberta:

a guzzling pick-up
speeds down Calgrary Trail, and
throws dust in my face.

an addictive poem.

seems I got it made, then I begin to feel
like I'd give up all my winnings
for another chance to spin the wheel.

loving you is like drinking Bourbon in rehab.
You don't wear cologne,
but an intoxicatingly magnetic scent
of contradiction.
Swing your hammer down,
draw another line on the table,
pull me into your springtime
pole-dancing, ribbon-waving festivities.
You are a razor and I am a pale wrist.

to say you are bad for me
is to say the very least.

vertext #2.

The older I get
the more life starts to make sense
and the less I care.

vertext #1.

I pray to goodness
that I'll always be aware
and sure of myself.

Sometimes I wish we were an eagle.

The leafless tree looked like a brain
The birds within were all the thoughts and desires within me.

An eagle came over the horizon
and shook the branches with its sight
The softer thoughts: starlings, finches, and wrens
they all took flight.

The eagle looked clear through the brain tree,
emptying thoughts saved for me.
Maybe I'll make this one my home,
consolidate the nests of the tiny.

Then something struck him, wings of bone:
sweet desires and soft thoughts were all gone.
The eagle shrieked, "I'm alone!"

Well it was time to flee the tree.
The eagle snuck up on the wind, one talon at a time.
Being sky king of the sky, what did he have to fear?
All thoughts are prey to some beast.

like being 19 again.

A Silver Mt. Zion /// He Has Left Us Alone But Shafts of Light Sometimes Grace the Corners of Our Rooms
Do Make Say Think /// Goodbye Enemy Airship The Landlord Is Dead
The Azusa Plane /// Tycho Magnetic Anomaly and the Full Consciousness Hidden
Crispin Hellion Glover /// Big Problem Does Not Equal the Solution. The Solution = Let It Be.
The Orb /// The Orb's Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld
The Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra and Tra-la-la Band /// Born into Trouble as the Sparks Fly Upward
Godspeed You Black Emperor /// Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas To Heaven
Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin /// Broom
The Unicorns /// Who WIll Cut Our Hair When We're Gone?
Arctic Monkeys /// Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not

thunder road.

who gives an f about an oxford comma?

me&you.

like a hunger-striker.

you said you were man who does not lack conviction,
only its intensity.
I too long for commitment and dedication,
a path as straight as an airplane's smear
across the Alberta sky,
but temptation is a lionness
and I am her impala.

improvisation skills.