Just words

So Warm

When i needed someone
she was there

Red and loud and in my bed

She had hair on fire
She had white skin

And a Victorian body
Like some soft lady
From an ancient
oil Painting
red wine on canvas

She laid there for me
Real beauty
A painting already painted

She was
Milk through my fingers,
butter on a hot pan
sun through the window
warm water on my wrist

A white glove
That fit so well

Mighty Timber

my splinter
looks infectious
dark and purple, the colours
they mingle
so pretty
on my finger
my knuckles
a tiny disaster
on my
a wooden
but without consent
get out little lover
leave my skin
you are the same
as me
pointy and intrusive
but now you
must go
back to the
flow to be reborn
as a mighty timber
in some great forest
eons from
this place


Dear girl
down the sidewalk
you are perfection
in black sunglasses,
gliding hips swinging
through Chinatown
and when I see you
my mind starts singing
some leonard cohen song
because like his lyrics
you are
bleeding happiness
coupled with
spring time sadness
a vision bathing in
the evening light.
I don’t even know
your favourite colour

Solo Ant Hill

The saddest ant
builds his
own hill
with no queen to worship
And no friends
by his side

So he goes crazy
in hurried frenzy

praying for
a childish god
with a
magnifying glass
sun beam
his life away


its a sad thing
waiting till we die to
rest in peace

I rest in peace as much
as I can
Why would I want to
rest in turmoil?
that wouldn’t be much
of a rest now would it?

So here is what I say
it’s easier to rest in
peace while you’re alive

For when you are dead
you just
Rest In Dirt

-Strathroy, 2007

In the Morning with the Sun

I got off work
the bus home
Got there
around eight AM

Walk to my room
over loud wooden floor
Have a few drinks

Go out for a smoke
and look at the golden morning

I could see the curve of the earth
and I could feel
the curve
of my eyeballs
It was the most
perfect kind of

I could not
see or feel
the atomic buzzing
of particles

But I knew they were there
and I was apart of
the buzzing

A wonderland
of gentle

Sinking Elephant

low tide all day
the beach is gurgling
bubbles, stones and
I’m sitting on some
old drift wood
a lost log
long gone from
his friends

I’m watching the sea
lick the sand
so careful
the water says
hello goodbye
hello goodbye

I feel like
a lost log
far gone
a tree out of sync
with the forest

I look at the shore
and imagine an elephant sinking in the
wet sand
He is curious about
what is happening
ready to panic
like me

Full Moons

I wish I
had a personal
documentary of all
my full moons

One month to
the next I
find myself in
different places being
a different person

I look up at
that silly white circle
and laugh
I’m so tiny
there is the proof

Not Yet Ram Dass

Got those
Horseshoe Bend
in my pre-frontal cortex
a mixture
of catharsis
and rapture
inspired by nature
which momentarily
makes me grasp
the concept

be here now

so hard though
for my mutated mind
to find that
during my daily
lows while
walking by the potholes
and hobos offering
their distorted hands
for my coins and
they are wearing
better shoes than I


My gut is not full of
but it feels
that way as
the tiny drips
of brandy
creep through
my chest hair

I’ve been a mess for
a couple seconds now
trying to get my footing

Feeling wonderful
the long walks
and poorly rolled
cigarettes are
coursing through
every part of me.

I feel like an existential
detective looking
into a mirror with no leads
to go on
Just obvious and hairy evidence


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