coming home to silence

Nov 5, 2006

Multi-coloured, former salsa jars
purple juice, warm vodka
(still open on the stove)
sits silent. Five empty rooms.
All lights on.

Instead, the cheese is squished between
half-eaten tortillas, perched on a mixing bowl
with waves of whiteness.
Perhaps beans, refried, stuck
on the spoon, half-hidden by empty orange-
stained scraps of carrot bags.

Melting. Spinach. On the floor.
Must have missed the garbage on the way.
Arm-shaped arc of paper
scraps from frying pan to floor.

Judging by the state, the shape
of butter, half-wrapped but clearly sitting
in our dog’s bowl
they left
less than an hour ago.

Dressing up

Oct 31

A pregnant nun fights
With a construction crew, while
Santa Claus looks on.


Oct 25

Hip ticks tell volumes.
I move like I'm still fighting.
He just kept guessing.


Oct 18

Smell of fresh cedar
On air, suddenly frigid
Biting biking hands.


Oct 10

Caffeinating crowd
Lined up against the sunbeams
Gets ready for train


Oct 2

Barefoot, 2 am
City streets like cold black rock
From dry river bed


Sept 18

Green does not mean go
When guac sits on desk all day,
Then makes stomach sore.


Sept 12

Tired, hungover,
I stare at keyboard dust balls,
Think of action words.


Sept 8

Pointing at my dog,
Little boy says, "A lion!"
He's a city kid.