- Louis Armstrong, 2009
Monday, 30 November 2009
A Quote, Mordecai Richler
"Yet another Canadian bigmouth trying to make a name for himself in London."
- St. Urbain's Horseman, Mordecai Richler
- St. Urbain's Horseman, Mordecai Richler
Friday, 13 November 2009
A Haiku, Scared at a Fair
Scared at a Fair
Take me away Dad
confusing noises, strange men
bad cotton candy
Take me away Dad
confusing noises, strange men
bad cotton candy
A Poem, Untitled
The guy who covers
Johnny Cash
is the hottest ticket
tonight.
The real deals are dead
and cheap copies remain.
A scenester can’t stand
to scratch her itchy nose,
and a slide guitar is heard
on the other side of town.
An unimpressed crowd
nods semi-rhythmically
in between text messages
and sighs,
and a pallimani plays.
I turn my head from
a sardonic smirk to
and ironic mustache
to stylish eye glasses,
to a button made of yard,
a checkered table cloth I recall.
I sometimes go to the
open mic blue grass jam
at the wheel club
outside of town.
Where they serve wine
from jugs
and bags of old dutch.
Out of town.
Johnny Cash
is the hottest ticket
tonight.
The real deals are dead
and cheap copies remain.
A scenester can’t stand
to scratch her itchy nose,
and a slide guitar is heard
on the other side of town.
An unimpressed crowd
nods semi-rhythmically
in between text messages
and sighs,
and a pallimani plays.
I turn my head from
a sardonic smirk to
and ironic mustache
to stylish eye glasses,
to a button made of yard,
a checkered table cloth I recall.
I sometimes go to the
open mic blue grass jam
at the wheel club
outside of town.
Where they serve wine
from jugs
and bags of old dutch.
Out of town.
A Poem, A Day
A Day
Single female janitor
raises three girls
- two autistic -
cries at night.
A row of repossessed
houses across town
are weathered by
the elements.
A paperboy works for
his allowance as
he stuffs the daily
courier into a
yellow box.
Today’s headline
STIMULUS.
The janitor looks
at her glassy floor
- not hers -
just mopped
tracing the tile lines
and orange colour blocks,
absenting herself
for a moment.
Alone and absolved.
The paperboy bikes by
vacant houses,
peddling harder
scared of the ghosts
who come up
short on judgment day
that try to pull
you in.
The sun goes down,
the streetlight turns on,
a day turns to night.
Single female janitor
raises three girls
- two autistic -
cries at night.
A row of repossessed
houses across town
are weathered by
the elements.
A paperboy works for
his allowance as
he stuffs the daily
courier into a
yellow box.
Today’s headline
STIMULUS.
The janitor looks
at her glassy floor
- not hers -
just mopped
tracing the tile lines
and orange colour blocks,
absenting herself
for a moment.
Alone and absolved.
The paperboy bikes by
vacant houses,
peddling harder
scared of the ghosts
who come up
short on judgment day
that try to pull
you in.
The sun goes down,
the streetlight turns on,
a day turns to night.
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