This plan was hatched
in a Gastown eatery
Where good friends met
For the first time
face-to-face
Trust and belief
A powerful combination
when turned
to the doing of good
You did good
Did I do good?
Have we done good?
Have we done enough?
Love is all that counts
in these days of counting pennies
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| I was just laughing That's all What? What do you mean, what's my problem If you must know I was thinking of my kids Of how their laughs sound like a stream running over rounded pebbles Of how I can spend summer afternoons drowsing in the garden drowning in that cool, cool water |
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| I said 'black' You thought of something I said 'white' You thought of something else I said 'woman' Your head drew a little box I said 'man' The box changed shape I didn't express an opinion But you already had yours and of course so did I http://implicit.harvard.edu/ |
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| Glaring at the headline I scream at screen and anchor Your glinting eyes do not conceal your hunger Salacious hearsay Wasted egos When you wake in clean morning air Do you choke for need of smog Does it get you off This masturbatory fascination for angels with broken wings? |
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| Streetcars and taxis Blaring horns and frustrated fists We all want to get somewhere else somewhere other than this If everyone is in our way then whose passage do I block? And if her path collides with mine do I step back or thunder on? What joy may come from collisions |
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| Deep in the bayou We Cajun freaks are rustlin' up some gumbo and a sweet, sweet jambalay We're howling at the moon caterwauling up a crawfish crowd The zydeco is rich mon chér Won't you come on down? |
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| She came through like static Putting my hair on end Goosebump flesh Crawling skin This apparition spoke from the phone in whispers like rose petals dusted with frost and breath A kiss then a sigh then a silent assent An abrupt click then silence And the fear that I may never breathe again |
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| These were days of Sundays and salads of margarita sunsets all tequila breath and lime juice These were dancing shimmys and whoops of delight trombone cakes that just made me say "what the hell was that I just ate?" But best of all the resistance's best piece a coconut dream that just fell into place Chopped open and shared 'til milk flowed sweet and compelling |
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| These bellicose rumblings this stand-off ultimatum win-lose scenario Who can present the other as themselves? Who can walk a mile in my shoes? Who can tell me what it means to build an 'AND' with an either/or fetishist? |
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| She's varicose legs and too much weight All age and heaviness worn down by eons But when she smiles twinkling lights dance in the creases that mark her face For all the laughs she has created and shared For all the hugs she has dispensed She dares to be no more than what she is right now Love demands not a perfect host |
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| Shuffling down serendipitous sidetracks where airport announcements put me off-balance and leave me reeling My inner ear fights against its inner instinct These out-of-kilter off-true neural explosions just make me smile as luck brings me home to bed |
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| Delicious sliding down Grinning like a cat that fell in a jar of cream That drowning cat He ate his fill and fell asleep as he drifted down Delicious sliding down into sumptuous oblivion |
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| All garbled glittering glamours Like chinese dragons winding down bell-chimed streets Gone fishing for an acrobat or a tumbler or a clown Just someone to receive me open armed and open mouthed Wide to another world whose wisdom winds me round its salmon pink tongue |
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| How could you walk past a keyboard And not type a thing? How could you listen to someone on the phone And not want to join the conversation? How could you put the small change in your pocket And not the tip jar or begging bowl? How could you switch on the television And not spend time with your kids? How could you? How? |
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| Yes, I couldn't resist that last one (:o) |
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| Break down Break through Break bread Break up Break away Break slow Break fast Breakfast? I'll have some toast, please And strong coffee |
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| Just what we take for granted Fantastic foibles fizzling out Shouting at the subway train that left before our foot could block the door Poor you, poor me Poor all of us who have come to rely upon things we cannot fix with our hands, hearts and souls |
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| This felt like foreplay Like peep shows, strip-tease and late-night movies Stolen moments in front of the TV Being involved Yet floating detached This space balloon head And ingenue soul Longing for contact yet circling Mars |
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| Stuck at the end of a trans-continental pipe Not knowing who was reading Or even if I was connected Isn't this our reality all virtual trust and faceless friends? "Ah, fuck it," I thought "I'll just start writing anyway" |
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| OK... So, it's Friday, 5 past 5 and it's time for... Any Brits between the age of 38 and 50-ish just said or thought "CRACKERJACK!" Now, the likelihood of any Brits of that age reading this right now means it might just be me - ah well I made myself smile... Welcome to We Are Story's live trans-continental poetry jam! Ready, set... GO! |