It Evaporates​

You never lose a word from under the sheets

it can evaporate into desire within lightbulbs

of dark fiction. You tend to write about them,

blue octagons of your nightmares, the

lined frames of wisdom you neglected

to admonish. All these poets, they

love to see you crawl through utopian

skies. They love to see you die

a poetic death, make sure theirs

becomes immortal while your vampire

stories die under golden

Greek suns. I have unimpressed you

with bath time fun

you stopped playing mindless games

showed me your grey hair.

I can still cross my legs

be a drunken listener.



I wrote it on the beach

while staring at the ocean

but forgot to send it

deleted it somehow

and poetry faded into

the sand under my feet.

I hear what you say

but I’m nodding at the sky

it’s talking to me

so be silent.

listen. i told you to

stare and you did,

listening to the wind

and how the earth moved

with the clouds.

You breathe deeply.

she was the one

who never got

away from your thoughts

and she was the one

that reminded you

of me. no spells

required. it was

word play. tricks

that poets perform

on cue. i trust no one

but my lover

who knows every

mole on my skin.

every beach is different

yet the same,

and every man is you

and every woman

is me.

That freedom of

saying you’re mine

or I’m yours

or other lovely phrases

that confuse the horizon

are Purolator express

packages of signed poems

I sent to Pakistan, London,

Lebanon, and other exotic

places that poets meet.

Remember how we ruled

the scene with teased hair

and duMaurier cigs

no line ups, no hash tags,

no texts, no pictures?

You just wanted to

get next to me.

That was all

that mattered.

Now everything matters.

My shoes, my hair,

my fake promises.

Yet you see nothing

but what you

have always seen

and that is one

of the myriad ways

that I love you

in every song.


it seems we have this neglected approach

to African dresses and lost stitching. (she’s

so confused with her choice of coffee

that love is not even on the menu )

she cried in my car because she

saw those girls having fun,

loving each other, neglecting her.

so fuck the social media, fuck

the “in your face play by play

action of petty lives”. she gets it

and is only fourteen, but i sell

it to lovers, dreamers,

i write it mostly for you

but you’re gone

into the


It gets foggy, and rainy,

i wake up to see the sunsets,

nothing changes but my

storage on my phone.

you like my new poem?

you don’t even read me. you

prefer to touch me

in my sleep. wake me in my

death. i’m still a vampire, i joke.

you bite my neck and

slap my ass.

you kiss my wounds

and patch up my scars

with silence.

you know i’m giving

everything up soon.

it’s written in the palm

of my hand.

the final act.

i take a bow

for the new play.

it’s going to be

so dirty

and raw.

this is nothing.

it’s tragic how

Greek mythology

was a million years ago,

i’d rather live then

and believe in Zeus

and wait for you

to become a part of me.

June second

the lights are red, but i want to go up

into the sky. drive right through

the pink and purple all night long.

this is my porn. you text me

your naughty, i’ll dream

in the fucking clouds. it’s june

second, two thousand and fifteen,

remember the 80’s? i relive them.

another full moon? do you

really care all that much? stop

howling. i feel it in every cell.

you’re fucked up.

I think my imagination

is so wild

even you

would run away.

but, you stay, you

make me believe

that the sunset

was a masterpiece

and the darkness

its palette.

the moon controls us

like love, we’re


to its pulling effect.

catch me tonight at

nine pm…its’ my son’s

award ceremony,

but i’ll still be falling

from the sky.

don’t forget to look up

and extend your arms,

even if you don’t see me.

Il est beau

If I thought I knew what I was getting into, then I would have
stayed home
and watched the Habs.
I waited in some kind of line
as eyes followed me
around the room
but I wasted my time
searching for names
that no longer existed.
She told me she lost her job,
do I see anyone from
He just stared.
She said nothing.
She kissed me.
My footprints were
still in the hallway.
He wanted me
Now, then, and tomorrow
Blinding high school glare
I haven’t changed much, her eyes
He just stares
and I listen for the bell
but it doesn’t ring.
I hate how time
stands still
in the same high
school. How faces change
but feelings rarely do.
I hate how looking good
is a fatal flaw.
I skipped some teachers
went to class
under the influence
and typed Jim’s poetry
120 words a minute
back when typewriters
were our computers.
So many secrets
in the lockers
so many hand written notes
in my crystal box
so many kisses
in the fields
and now the circle
En plus, il est beau,
she said.
Besides the marks and the sweetness
and the good heart, he is handsome, she said.
You should be proud.

you think

you may think you’re all cool

and chic with your light curls

and words of pearls

but so many poets

come and go from here

with empty carts and fear

loaded in their back seat

as they head for New York

and follow the endless beat.

you may think you have it all planned out

in your lined books instant rhymes

but did you realize you’d bump into

so many poets and musicians that would

unfurl the desires of your youth

with one guitar riff

and still you write those awful poems

that I can’t read

you go on Facebook and have thousands

that follow the Christian way

the right path

so you think you’re someone

with more than just a shady past.

you think you should follow

more artists

as you pretend to be one.

I see through you

and run the other way

from girls like you

who turn into women

with fangs

and midnight pangs

to have all the men

under your wing

for all the wrong reasons.

you keep on thinking

you’re above

while the Virgo in me

walks on the ground.


All insipidly  wavy inside of me

like the texture of my hair 

yet you reach for it.

Some songs can bring me 

to the edge of the sea

ready to plunge, 

others suck my soul bare

Pain pulling each string

piece by piece.


Most women love to gas up, pile in the bags

pretend they are content

and read Fifty Shades as if it’s a masterpiece. 

I do roll my eyes, and admit I am

a literary snob. Don’t hug

me unless you are ready for the

studded belt. Don’t kiss me 

either, my lipstick stains. Don’t emoji 

me, I’m not sold on it. But thank you

for the laughter,

as much as you take

away me essence

you give it back in abundance

I am so topsy-turvy in love

regardless of what I write

or how clever you think I am

you never need to read it. Pretend

I do not write. Let me smoke and 

drink wine discussing art and all 

I look forward to, nothing I’ve left

unscathed. Rumors unfurled,

denying everything but the way the 

smoke exhales

I love it when you love me

for myself and nothing else

you hate me so passionately

it is what I need. Both in one 

day, in one sentence. You only 


it has kept me invincible

to men who try to sneak in

between my monologues.




Hate me profoundly
abhor every word
the fence is locked
forgot the key
turn here, dammit
I slam on the brakes
nothing has been the same
since you woke me up
I loved my sleeping ways
finding shelter in his arms.
Break a spell
spring forth all the sayings
memorized in my poetry class
I read the journals
loaded up my manuscripts
watched them burn
couldn’t stop the flow now
a waterfall of metaphors
shocks my body
captures my soul
and the silence
is the Leader
that guides me
straight to your bridge
where I will be very soon
always searching for that swift moon
and while I am awake
you will be asleep
while I am dreaming
you will be alive.

Hate should flow easily
I open my arms to it
to replace the love.

I wait for it.

Apres Toi

Should you ask yourself
if I hold grudges and whine
the answer is a definite no.
Once my ex-partner
broke my heart
and I still greet her
but that is a story
over coffee or hard liquor
I’m game for both
these stories I hold
I would like for you
to watch me closely
as I say them passionately
but I am left speechless
biting my tongue
analyzing my every move
word, thought.
Of course
there is a flood
from the first bye
to each passing one
hello, bye, hello again
(I’m in a Dr. Seuss book
with you)
they are interchangeable
create new love rules
for romantic fools
yes, oui
It is surreal
the way your words
make me feel
I tell myself
It’s the voices in my head
go to fucking bed
but then you
come through the crack
of the window
I left open
a tiny bit
and with all your wit
you cracked it bit by bit.

I forgive too easily
I am in detox now
Finished my book
no You
Denying myself
of it
even afternoon café au lait
instead I am talking to dead people
feeling safe
my favourite pastimes these days
all in order to forget you.

Can you feel me?


even if I finished my plate

you would fill up another one

with plenty of words

that mean absolutely nothing

my heart has been surrounded

by fort walls for years





you love to hate me

you hate to love me

i leave you my pounding heart

take it away from me

i don’t want it anymore

leave me with a pen



no grammar rules

nothing else is needed

for an untitled poem

filled with titles