Tag Archives: winter
more chairs.
well it finally happened and i live alone. it took me a year but it happened. just me, and gunther of course. and king julien & mort, who survived yet another move and who have been noticeably upset with me … Continue reading
Filed under monologue
season.
this is how we remember ourselves three hundred days later exposed pipeline in dirt, a wrong turn. fresh as the holes where my eyes had been once, and were, yours on the nape of my neck with hands, in gananoque … Continue reading
Filed under poem tree
dear february.
dear february, i’m sorry for all the bad things i said to you and about you and behind your back. you are cold and cruel, but you are lovely also. you didn’t hurt me; i hurt myself & tried to … Continue reading
Filed under monologue
dawn.
a stampede broke the glasses we used for our seeing and drinking, and i was already drunk: my heart bled for a year. on the arm of my couch like it hadn’t your tongue melted mine with the lights from … Continue reading
Filed under poem tree
december poem.
you fall between two alphabetically, a place they have both been before, on bleachers in snow i fall for the drywall, the bottles of wine if you were not you i would reach for wrought iron the gate would swing … Continue reading
Filed under poem tree
apartments.
too many apartments i haven’t seen lie parallel across the frost, cut like seams of highways fighting for the lake in winter we use him, and cloth to cut the ice on the canal. i don’t go home with writers, … Continue reading
Filed under poem tree
bubbles.
this is always my favourite way to start the cold, wintery holiday season. sit beside the breakfast table, think about your troubles, pour yourself a cup of tea and think about the bubbles. you can take your teardrops and drop … Continue reading
Filed under monologue
