#CanadianWriters
You walked in front of me, pulling me back out to the green light that had once grown fangs and killed me. I was obedient, but
My shadow said to me: what is the matter Isn’t the moon warm enough for you why do you need
Starspangled cowboy sauntering out of the almost– silly West, on your face a porcelain grin, tugging a papier-mache cactus
She reclines, more or less, Try that posture, it’s hardly lang… Her right arm sharp angles. With her left she conceals her amb… Shoes but not stockings,
Let others pray for the passenger… the dodo, the whooping crane, the… everyone must specialize I will confine myself to a meditat… upon the giant tortoises
It was taken some time ago. At first it seems to be a smeared print: blurred lines and grey flec… blended with the paper;
The puppet of the wolf I have not made yet encloses my right hand: fur stubbles my wrists, a tongue, avid, carnivorous,
Gone are the days when you could walk on water. When you could walk. The days are gone. Only one day remains,
I would like to watch you sleeping… which may not happen. I would like to watch you, sleeping. I would like to sleep with you, to enter
The bronze clock brought with such care over the sea, which ticked like the fat slow hea… of a cedar, of a grandmother, melted and its hundred years
I am the heart of a murdered woman who took the wrong way home who was strangled in a vacant lot… who was shot with care beneath a t… who was mutilated by a crisp knife…
You, going along the path, mosquito-doped, with no moon, the… a single orange eye unable to see what is beyond the capsule of your dim
There are similarities I notice: that the hills which the eyes make flat as a wall… together, open as I move to let me through; become
In restaurants we argue over which of us will pay for your… though the real question is whether or not I will make you imm… At the moment only I
In winter the beach is empty but south, so there is no snow. Empty can mean either peaceful or desolate. Two kinds of people walk here: