Just words


My Body Goes Through The Laundry


st-remy my baby
a product of france
you make my words stink,
a brandy of understanding
ive never seen your colour
i always drink you from the bottle
your heart is little
i try to make up for it
by listening to crystal castles

you are worth the hassle
so in the morning
i drink coconut water
and reminesce about arizona
while eating junior mcChickens
this does not right the wrongs
but the wrongs never
quite get it right
so i go to the church
of father john misty
and i find meaning
in his preachings
by this time
its appropriate
to have a cat nap

and in the fury of
the before supper sun
i feel the strength of
my body as it proposes
its thesis
‘lets do another one’

Upper Canada Mall

Watching people
Watch people
iPads and coffee cups
And break ups
Nicotine tear drops
The both of us
Just sucking our lives away
Pipe dreams
On the mind
Fantasy in our voices
The both of us
Just chipping at the block
Sculpting the future

small thoughts about the big Ocean


Never Be Busy

the body is meant to move
make it move

bend your bones
and twirl your mind between
your fingers
like a pencil on fire

love hard
forget hard
but remember even harder

these things happen
for good reason
that reason is you

work hard
but not too hard
never brag about
being “busy”
that’s stupid
busy people are missing the point
dont be stupid

be messy
but clean the mess up later
you can be autumn and spring
dead and reborn
you can be a little bit of everything

Tom Time

When the time comes
you wonder why he didn’t come sooner

but you realize
time waits for no man

except for Tom Waits
Tom will always wait

so the waves
bash the beach

and pound the pebbles
into sand

it isn’t hard to understand
time waits for no man

Tom waits on the sand
with pebbles in his hand

wondering what time it is
but he doesn’t hesitate

he just waits
because he is Tom

and time waits for no man
not even Tom


When Wine
Comes down the stairs
Everyone goes from
Roaring to whisper
The liquid authority roars
Through the room
In red white waves

The wives realize their
Blushed plaid faces
So they remark
On their reaction to alcohol
But their company doesn’t
Seem to care
Because they know
That their wine face
Is mutual

So the crowd’s calm remains
And grows gradually
Back to a slow hum
And then
A clatter and before
You know it
The party is roaring

But Wine is there.
Always He will walk
Up and down
the stairs,
without fail,
Pounding on the shoulders
Of those who refuse
To endorse
His crude etiquette

Cooking Rice

Its not enough to be alive
You must disappoint yourself
a few times so
you can feel what thats like
And do other things
to your psyche
to feel those different feels

So then you grow
like a weed through winds
and rocks and those
hot Toronto summers
where the air
gets so steamy
you could cook rice
in your palm
but when you try
The sky bursts open
In dramatic purple
And god pisses very hard on
your evening.

The cool 7pm air
Is refreshing as it
tries to dry
the streets but before it can
the lights come on and
Summer is perfect like wine

Throwing Chairs in the Garbage

Dear god
That vibrates
Through every
Coffee table
Your heart is my heart
Your beautiful mechanics
Are felt
Through my fingers
I feel you there
In my skin
As I toss you into the garbage

Your intense barrage
Permeates my daily routine
You are
A dexterity poutine
That I devour with
Intense fervor

Dear all encompassing power
You make me real

My relationship
With ordinary sculptures
Is accentuated
And enhanced
As I graduate your form
to trash