Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Yellow
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
After Swimming
Friday, March 4, 2011
Toast to the New Year
Written months ago, but I just got around to posting.
Here's to the taste
of a cigarette I never smoked
and of a drink I didn't
and of the fruit you ate on the way.
To the bruise on my knee
and the dust
and the cold cement floor.
Here's to descending
below the tumult
into the upper deep,
to voices muffled
by a floor over our heads
and heeled footsteps
speaking above us in code.
Here's to the length
of this house, its depth,
its hiddenness.
Here's to cracks
in the foundation, and where do they go?
All the way,
through the centre of the earth
where it's too hot for words.
Place your palm on a weaker point,
and wait for the heat,
though you may be imagining this.
Nevertheless.
Here's to leaving
my mind behind, on the surface,
when I opened a door.
Here's to stairs
to the cellar
that only ever go down.
Here's to going down.
Here's to the New Year
and the taste of a cigarette.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Ceilings II
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Fur
Friday Night Chasms
Friday night chasms,
between two bodies prone on the sheet
in the dark of a blackout,
or a thousands tiny lights
in your room.
The long curve of your back:
I can't forget
the horizon of your shoulder to your hip.
A line,
it made me need you
in the next day and weeks that followed.
Words would send me crazy
but that slope of your shoulder
brought me back
home, your body, your
bed, your
nesting cave of wonders,
blinding lights,
magpie's generosity.
It's still your voice that reaches me,
your sigh
of greeting, as if every
meeting face to face is for the first time.
Your eyes, marrons glacees.
Your voice
breathing embraces
for my ears alone,
and every other one
you meet.
The same
serene tenderness for strangers,
and the beautiful angry cook,
and me.