the ~ silly hear ~~t

Weave d the intaglioed entangld encounter ~

Damce with you
in yer hidden heart body

between yer fingers
een yer fingers

d ~

in this wa__________Y

moralisation in art. has no place. face. its them. that. imagine a self. disconnected. to others. that can work. its not so. ------------------------but ar t has nothing to do. to do. its nothing. nothing fringe. as heartfelt as the yr. connecting to this wrangled weave. o r string fold weaved to woof between body.
he is here. between his leaves. there. he sit. in her wombhearting. we are connected to others. and the key is humbly accepting our vulnerabilities. our dada is our mama love to others.the others. who. fear. who pride. their bodies and loVe.heart. dada
was curtailed. by the denier. what was her heart but a spoon fed night to desire


was your mouth


nomadic burrows

________________________ Mister Hausmannnnnnnn contemplates? is that desire

_____________________________ proFessOr ChaLLEnger ~~~

and the charming Journey to the Moon! ~
JULes VerNEs

the tzarathoustra ~


over the falling sea
the sea sea
you hear elm
but it aint no more
just willow talk
willow tick-tock
in the shaggy isthmus
bound by crater
thought and hungry penny hand-me-down
you rushed over
taking these matters in hand
(took these matinees in hand)
(bare gloss of)
merited a lover's gasp
we came
like that two troubadours reckoning on the end of brittle bone
in thistle down
ground you jerked away the hands
covering night's only rain
frosted with your intaglioed


also this postin

th'et th'

'et th'en. not too. well? so the hunger.

climb. flock.
folk. wan.
cover. chink.

face harder than chasm.
between her thigh. clandestine of the wrench,


Ive held your hand with a sonnet
aimless iambic thunder
to her loving thighs
two times
each manner


th'et th'

'et th'en. not too. well? so the hunger.

climb. flock.
folk. wan.
cover. chink.

face harder than chasm.
between her thigh. clandestine of the wrench,


Ive held your hand with a sonnet
aimless iambic thunder
to her loving thighs
two times
each manner


dye Heart

the first time Bc did that. she was win to her some. as night was landfall. as night was squire.

do the hunter have lonesome? do hand add feet? do air romp cleat?

The heart was a lonely hunter, ( Bc quoting famous phrase

(graduated by any other prey)
but then Death stepped in

with her whoopsy-dipsy shit
begging the question

for a night of fair and

begging night
a question of life and fare,
that ferry-ride
(a matter of wear and tear)
over the other side

where death and ground play
ape and bear
when the lion takes time from the lamb
without a tab
minding its own business


All of my words were on parole ~ out of the prison of mouth

as a kiss hidden between two weeks ~

a coming not going


the dream rain

__________________________Did you live in rain?

____________________________________I did I did

|O and did you dream the rainy day in this side ? the planet side? rainrain|

(Oyes I did I did teacher I did rain the raindream planet)

it came sideways to its rain sideways to its rain
was that rainy spiritual rain sliding ? climbing? _________ did it become skating rinks to speeding rinks? september?

_______________________her rain was a plum

that rain a peach fell to sky

...a rainy day on this side of the city.... ~

(but the teacher wanted
to sleep to sleep
with her studentpoet
shewanted to sleep sleep)

______________________________________________ did the rain in july
________________________________cavort over the sun
_____________________________________it did it did heel

pumping high

O that

The small rain down canst rain

the old song

the old mystery
rain ____________


She took off her clothes her clothes and she
was very disappointed because there
was nothing there nothing her
at all ~

at all

a throng of her giving


now hot summer came
her hot head
his hot heart
asked in a song

a throng
of her giving
round her

she wondered was it possible to make love in an air-conditioned room? a fan was one thing but air-conditionin

were hands
hers made

of this

roughed by its
electrical impulses?


was love

a baker's dozen?


nor the name of ~

the bare wood she sang

was a tune to nothing
nothing past ten in the morning
stripping her cage of
the rare ruins of its past

she doesn't intend
ten past two in the afternoon the side order of culverts and derring-do dishes helmed hours prying kitchen doors nor washing machines with surrealistic clothes ticketing the dry wind in the ticker-tape of fury try
repeat fail again

Not that she remembers any other word blended by the hour of choice the sitting down ducks of her or anyone's fate as far as that goes she waits at the table serving the hourly moment a mass of praying and quirky humdingers ashamed to pronounce her name between times she lives in slum rises tenement buildings with rats for neighbours waiting for the cushion of fate to carry her A word clinging to her ear she is the beauty of the instant in the mirror of choice her minor shield an arrow to trace her spare fibs and open handed fable

Seconds later the baton and ranked squares summon the hour from its kept pond orders a troupe in the hill not a possessive noun a frown to agree on a teased spoon leaned against the rock

page turn to her gleaning dust


theE thingSzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

theE thingSzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzinnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggggssssssssssss grammar grammar grammar wont let us say say wont lets say say wont it wont let us say we say we wont say us we say we wont say our punctuations must be marsh was its marsh mellow our semicolonoscopy must be berfect or our Bierce wont rite. R rightwontrongour juget wont objetour subJect wont reJect. Our CONject won't perjure R J woan G

our moor hath
in whoore


by dese fragmemushes en more our dogs have done

sneaky snuk ~

a sneaky little poet was sneaking along the ground.
not wearing his Homer shoes.
but his home-made Badmintons.
______________________________Fishing gone fishy____________________________
_________________Soft as a _________________________________________

these and other ... notes from the flying city ~


They call it the 'jazz' festival. But it's more than that. It's about people, and subtle moments, and the poetry of summer. And if you're like me, you are breathing the air of desire.


When it comes to summer, love is always ready. The thing's finding the right rhythm, the hour the place. Between two meetings, two lovers. Summer becomes a season to come and then, to stay.


Okay, let's say the jazz festival. That's where. Near the Places des Arts exit. So many. And you and I. And we can try again. How about Friday?


It was not too long ago I happened to attend a poetry recital. I was quiet, and still within myself. I looked across the room, and saw you there.
It was the only time I looked and you happened to look up. Glances were passed momentarily. And that was it. Nothing more or less. A moment returning .

Do you recall that one?


Is this how we meet ? In the city there is you and me. I am here and you're there. Walking, wondering, sitting. Reflecting. Asking yourself the same question, what am I doing? I've seen you many times _ on the sidewalks, at a cafe, on the metro, train stations, bus-stops, the bus, the movies. Passing by on the street.Why don't we speak. It's about time. We've loved one another a long time. Too long now and it hurts. Doesn't it? I'm waiting. And I know you are. One day you asked me for directions, or what time the last metro left on the green line. I happened to be in Verdun that day, and another time, it was the Cote-Ste. Catherine metro. It doesn't really matter, does it? It could have been anywhere. There's all sorts of places where people don't meet, and wish they had, or wanted to say something more. But life took over, habits, yes, old habits, of turning away. I know you're the same as me. You're tired of being alone. Fed-up with doing it all alone. And time is going by. That's how lives get missed. Say yours and mine. We can try. Here for a start. You could be anywhere, in Montreal, Toronto, over in San Francisco, Vancouver, London, Paris, Dublin, or St. John's Newfoundland. Or ina plane reading this. It's about time we found one another.


How many cities in how many gracious days?
w many cities in how many gracious days?

NavetTe SpAce Cadet

NavettTe SpAce Cadet

Someone writes to a bulletin board in th e town of hopes and loverlovelove and sexbedboom~ and cuddle miss cute. But does she like Chagall?

"I love a strong man ( Does she mean Hercules?)", "who knows who he is (who is he? who is he? he knows ! he knows! Or dear he knows glows and coals in the dark!)

and knows what he wants ( O the men the men Who KNow what they who KNOW what 'they ' want are infinite as the mud of the Ganges River) (their blood is toil flying air force jettings summering round the world 45,000 feet overthe earth dear sweet earth rough cough earth).

"I believe in romance ( O the Roam and Rome and Romance self respect! Respect yorself the roam of rome of romance dance) and self respect."
O self and respect inspect your introspecting expecting lover lover belly lover sweet ~
" I love" ( I love I love I love I give and I receive I receive give love to love receive give love I I I I I) to give and love to receive.

I seek( I seek I seek I seek) a man(A man! A man A man but not between the lover between the un-named one who's between the leg the feet the lover the one who sing on her on her head )

"who wants a partner to compliment his life and I need a man to make life that much sweeter."
partner partner partner a part that's near her part her part rubbing his part
his rubbing their rubbing rubbing rubbing

"I am fun loving, intelligent, outgoing, in great shape, love to cook/bake and nurture those I love."____________> THe lady Can Cook. Shes cookin in the kitchen of Love?

of Love shes got cookies and nookies and hookies

and her back is sweeter than baked goods than baked goods pie pie and crust and cake ~
Does she
Love the
dance of chagall
like loving?

Does she like Chagall? Who remembers Marc Chagall?

"I can go from girly-girl to nature girl -- and I own all the appropriate outfilts to fit any occasion." (She's got the right clothes! no less she's got clothes clothes )

______________________ O th e nature of to go from to go to nature
to girly girly!

"I love life and those in it. (She Loves those in it! well, its good she likes those in it,
and not Out of it~ eh?

"Life is great (Life is great so they say, so let s see Mister Shakespeare, Is life great?
or is it a walking fool?)

" but could be alot more with the right man."
(but but but!)
(O the butts and butts
and cigarette butts
yummy butts~)

She want kiss an kiss
her kiss lipping kiss her throat
breast belly button and
for the Right

Kissing Missing Man


O but life's not so great
after all
after all
without the RIGHT MAN
the Right Man
the Man who's right
who's righthanded not left?
is she of the left this lady
lOOkIng fr her Right Man

Her right hand man
who's her right man her right righteous man

~ O Look
at Chagall
how they Tilt upward
& Earth
its posture posture of desire not



is way she can marry her little dada. Her finger goes into the finger on his hand. Some as the click of love. Wisp along as wave to particle they are twirling

T'is aysh an arry er ittle adaer inger oes ntthfngen his handomeashelickloveisp longwaveparticleare twirling

do the d ~

MIss J___y doesn't talk to C___ anymore. J___y is too busy, and C_________ always havs to make the initial move, maybe it's cause C______is a poet. and should C__________ write J___ poems, so he can see her?

or do they hang and do a meeting sometime between the dark river and love?

(O the initial initial initial lover's wink ! her winking eye ~)

_________________ do the d ance
do the dance ~

dance do dance do
by the river
just these two

flute lucy sky

and here then a Lucy in the sky ! her diamond surprise ! her air of flowers !

O LuCy LuCy


call it

Call it the post Card ~
will it be your lovers as it stands down the sun and her body song, bawdy bad

buttocks roll in their stroll -- her sweat peals to my mouth lip of upper lip sweat in

the levantine sun oh the jiggle of the breast as it tops the day naked heart beat

pounds across the desire machine that`s your heart O Irish O French Canadian

Forgotten to write this sort of thing across mouths and sand now your night vase is a

stand over fortune and day

like memory you think of it the sanded wordless checker in the petulant sun maker and mocker as it rattles your cage fit for a road and royal pardon the only one weakened by bets and rallies the false flask of pairs and like this you always turn by the crest a word in your hand man with a toothcomb switch guessrope of hangar desire her back limbering sent by battalions and momentary slipping elapsed in the meal hovering between the beats of your life mortal and immortal you stare other days you are goaded by the wax metaphysical shade of dowries conflated by a wheel held by a lair stuttering along the sidewalk ringing in your notes not classic in its disappointment but rueful in its borderline a perfect nose causing craniums to think fright to flee disappointment to break not laced by the additives your fortune bares to the sky its firmament a local lust trapped in place standing stepped in that repeated pace

guerdon and the kettle open their heart mamba man makes his peace a drug store bottle composed of light look there he goes the gue-rite able at her post switched the swathe of pronoun little sockets hod hold the train your emotives win the moment run into your nick foul as the storm at her shelter

_________________________ So Bc Ad meandered. the walk away city. the tour de ville . the weary wake of its sudden slumber . trim as as a boast battled to be ~