A poem: Slicked
He traced Bermuda against backsides
smiled from the corners
slicked his marks and
left them commenting on his good upbringing.
He blew into town one day
out the next
lookin' to settle down
post-next. trick.
He traced Bermuda against backsides.
lost all of his maps
in ditches.
We pieced it like a puzzle
the curlicues, misplaced signatures
- the dollhouse
He was 14 blocks full speed
When our wallets were declared missing.
But it wasn't all bad.
No, not in the least.
He traced Bermuda against backsides
smiled from the corners
slicked his marks and
left them commenting on his good upbringing.
He blew into town one day
out the next
lookin' to settle down
post-next. trick.
He traced Bermuda against backsides.
lost all of his maps
in ditches.
We pieced it like a puzzle
the curlicues, misplaced signatures
- the dollhouse
He was 14 blocks full speed
When our wallets were declared missing.
But it wasn't all bad.
No, not in the least.
This, a poem I'm writing halfway through the Orton-Gillingham tutoring practicum.
Daily Exercises
I sit across the table from her
and ask her to spell poison.
Her eyes scan mine and my eyes scan
the bruises beneath hers.
For a second, I'm hoping she'll say
You can't spell poison. It doesn't let itself be owned in that way.
Poison isn't something you can write.
It's more the kind of thing that creeps into your room
in the solitude of night -
and takes its name out of your letters.
Poison is composed of nothing but silent e's and broken
spelling rules. Broken homes
probation let's move on to a different word.
P. O. I.
I'm sure she said some other letters too,
but I couldn't hear them.
Daily Exercises
I sit across the table from her
and ask her to spell poison.
Her eyes scan mine and my eyes scan
the bruises beneath hers.
For a second, I'm hoping she'll say
You can't spell poison. It doesn't let itself be owned in that way.
Poison isn't something you can write.
It's more the kind of thing that creeps into your room
in the solitude of night -
and takes its name out of your letters.
Poison is composed of nothing but silent e's and broken
spelling rules. Broken homes
probation let's move on to a different word.
P. O. I.
I'm sure she said some other letters too,
but I couldn't hear them.
A poem I wrote recently, about the damages I've seen present in preparation for the 2010 Olympics.
The Trouble With Vancouver
The Ocean sycophantic
as two men drearily lay down
one woman lies awake in a pitched tent (city park)
wondering who will fix her
neither man shows up
And we promise We promise that
free trade and open borders
francophone gymnasts and whistler locals
anime trade ups of our backyard oppressions
We'll cure poverty
together
And as a raging attachment disorder sings
that lonely woman to sleep
lice wonder about the possibilities of
the outstretched world
from larval stages told be anything
reap the rewards of hard work
all across this fucking city
This is the colour of a trainwreck that's
been painted over
any colour they want it to be.
A seagull shrieks against
an updated industrial area.
My sister might be in these Olympics.
The Trouble With Vancouver
The Ocean sycophantic
as two men drearily lay down
one woman lies awake in a pitched tent (city park)
wondering who will fix her
neither man shows up
And we promise We promise that
free trade and open borders
francophone gymnasts and whistler locals
anime trade ups of our backyard oppressions
We'll cure poverty
together
And as a raging attachment disorder sings
that lonely woman to sleep
lice wonder about the possibilities of
the outstretched world
from larval stages told be anything
reap the rewards of hard work
all across this fucking city
This is the colour of a trainwreck that's
been painted over
any colour they want it to be.
A seagull shrieks against
an updated industrial area.
My sister might be in these Olympics.
