February 2012
2 posts
marththebland:
I wish I was a female tiger because then if I was talking to someone and I was getting off topic I could say “but I tigress,” and then kill and eat them because I am a tiger
January 2012
1 post
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Pretty Damned Good
You can’t subject the bagels to scientific inquiry - my reasons for loving, neither. My logic for my headaches is grey as my Atlantic sky, my logic for my heartbreaks is blue as my Atlantic blood, not 100% accurate, but You can keep your twiddly, be-ribboned Mozart! I’ll saw the head off a Wagnerian thunder god to play a little Monsieur Croomb, Echoes of Autumn or songs about whales -...
December 2011
0 posts
“Friday comes once a week! I like Fridays. I like the fact that new movies open...”
– Joey Comeau (via touchyourproteins)
4 tags
Coldiron Blues (demo)
November 2011
4 posts
3 tags
Today I will honour the plumbers.
Today I will honour the plumbers and the architects, the nurses and the dressmakers and the surgeons and the stay-at-home moms. Today I will honour the teachers and the artists, the office administrators and mail-people, the carpenters and the landscapers, the soldiers and the street-cleaners, the shelf-stockers, the baristas and bartenders, the construction workers, the telemarketers, the theatre...
2 tags
How to Have a Type
Do you know? I was never in love with him, and it is embarrassing, but I am still fascinated by a large nose and drawn to a brown eye; that wiry frame, scar and smile lines still imply ‘catalyst’ still imply ‘a great deal under the surface’ still imply a warm spine, a flushed cheek, a difficult question.
September 2011
4 posts
3 tags
she talks like a river, all vowels and rolling ars, husband sprawled across her seat, the occasional grunt to keep her current
and I, I can’t understand a single word, but she talks like a river
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but I walked into your clean love, the smells of soap and acrylics I know what it is to know someone who wanted to know what I had for breakfast and how the raisin bran, the scrambled eggs worked out and I wasn’t quite ready for that, still working out why you called me pretty, why you called me
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August 2011
21 posts
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Word Photography: Electric Eclectics 6 →
Sweeping riffs like an electronic whale, a singer in a gas mask. Everyone’s ears are lit up with orange stoppers; a man chews corn on the cob in time with the flexing pulse. A large stuffed dog takes shelter on a table in the tent. Yellow-skirted girls with buzz cuts and bangs sit on the grass, hug their knees. A beautiful photographer and his sunburned, goateed boyfriend walk down the hill.
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her lips are unaccustomed to moisturizers or chapstick, lip balm or gloss or what have you in other words: undue care (but she is open to suggestions)
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what a tacky sunset, and what a vulgar moon my voice can’t make you stumble, my eyes can’t make you swoon, but I can try to change your mind about the hip-size of pretty girls
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She cooks like a chemist: pear pie with ginger! Two! of every spicy thing. She makes my face a faucet, offers napkins and bread and then, and then, no rest for the wicked. In the morning, her experiments leave raspberry seeds in my teeth that will not succumb to any amount of brushing.
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The demo version of “Psyche’s...
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Yes, sorry, sorry… Ah, yes, forget it,...
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Delight
I am very like my mother in my delight. Her joy lives in tomatoes, red on the vine, in faces hidden in the curtains, in the rhythm of the dog’s flapping ears; mine in the bus driver, “Toronto? The terminal? I’ll put your bag under,” smiling back, and also in the manner you wear your glasses… a little self-conscious, but so gratefully aware.
1 tag
In keeping with tradition: the brown eyes, the amazing pockmarks and mistakes - and I bet the pillow talk is as rambling and loquacious as the conversation.
July 2011
1 post
4 tags
Hymn
This is a little church, it is no great...
June 2011
8 posts
4 tags
I find myself surprised when this music does not...
There is only one. Only one sun. Only one moon. And you too. Be that.
-Alfred Kreymborn (1883-1966)
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The vague breathing of a choir, mixed so low as to...
3 tags
May 2011
19 posts
they say, “don’t burn your bridges” and “you’ll need them later,” but I can swim and I prefer the good opinions of those who have my good opinion
IT SOUNDS LIKE WONDER FEELS what with Nico, tall...
