To follow

In the centre of my universe I found you awake
up past midnight as usual
driving down highway 15 reaching
centre ville
and vinyl record stores on Bishop

so I followed you

all out of Bukowski again
twitter has made him popular
he says stroking his beard like I don’t know much
I shrug my shoulder and smile
don’t know much about that
I read him before indie
before coffee
and now I let him rest
he’s super tired
with your young generation and your attention span
you look familiar
he says
No I don’t
and I ignore him
before he talks about car crashes
National news
superheroes and writers.

I lost you on de la Montagne
where hotels will become condos with shops
and memories rubble.
I wanted to follow you
to a new uprising
but the ” manifestations”
students banging pots
took over the laureate prizes;
when I was a student I banged other things,
spoke about philosophy
across from Concordia
and made love with words
like I always do.
My hair touched my ass
my poems well hidden
and no one followed me.
How things change
yet still
stay the same on this
emotional ride lost on one way streets
so far from your world order
and parallel highways
but I’ll still follow you
anywhere
except in my dreams.

song

You talk some trash and watch me vacuum in my knee socks

phone in my back pocket

my headphones on so loud can’t hear the soccer scores

you like my ponytail

ignore the players

and end up all over my spring blouse

unbuttoning my friendship buttons.

We walked on St.Paul all night

chasing our dreams

together

and kissing in cabs

I remember everything

the flashing reasons

I love you blow up in my face

erase the scars and build new castles.

You know how to fall in love with me

for decades, finding new things

to love

not being pulled in by my witty lines

my poems

but my real legs

on you.

You know exactly where I was when I lied

and you loved me anyway

chasing me down

showing me how you are the only one

who can handle my locked up days.

Play me that song

none of that new crap

but the one you sang to me

at your bar

in front of a live audience.

This is what keeps me close to you.

Full moon in Virgo

It could have started and ended the same way

but I keep on telling him

(as he holds me close and 

I smell his skin)

you don’t have to read my poems

or my book

to get into my head

so he reads the first ten pages

and brings the air

between us closer.

I see you in there

yet I don’t.

Forget the bloody moon

but what are the chances of it being my full moon

Isn’t that the title of your poetry book

I never published it

oh, I thought that’s what you do

just kiss me and don’t think too much

that’s my domain

forget the questions

remember only the answers.

The air is so thin now.

I can’t read you anymore.

The light followed me for days

to guide me to an empty place

to all parts of this town

as books fell out of my purse

to land on your thighs

it’s sexy to write a poem

when everyone thinks you’re not.

It’s sexy to kiss you

in front of strangers

when everyone thinks otherwise.

Vitamin Man

The sun hasn’t set yet

a slight yellow light

is reflected on your face

with dark tinted frames

you suck the bottle

of vitamins

to zen yourself

from the madness

and weekend chores.

Don’t look back

drive safe

and watch that inflated

ego

stare back at my

lovely fucking mess.

You are such a

charming daring

young man

too young for my old soul

that has seen many tainted

loves wave by me.

You look like I could

love you

subtly

then madly.

All this talk talk talk

with no bed in sight

all this need need need

with no friction.

Pass me the pills

the vitamin juice

the jazz in your pockets

and I will push it above me

on top of me

your head on my hips

your sighs on my lips.

We will make the devil

jealous

and no time

is perfect

no distance

too far

no cold

too frozen

for this heat.

Your vitamins are what

I need.

Old Montreal

The delight that is you
leaves me to dwell in your hands
for a while
reflect on your concerned smile
keep the distance real
for
in real time it means nothing
to others
who know naught-
how feelings
can eat you up alive
in a non-existent reality
how this reality
can determine another.
Daydreaming scenarios
written out in storybooks
drunk poems
with visuals
for poets like us
that need more
than mere words.
I could go on for
another more decade
begging zero needs
laughing at obscure art.
I am somewhere in that painting
my hair touched my waist
then
and my cheeks were fuller
pouring draft Boréal rousse beer
in the heart of Old Montreal
buying original art décor, café au lait peinture à la main
Jewellery, Indian soapstone
going to lofts
discussing art as the paintings
were lined up against the wall
windowsill
atop beds
and Mark & I came up with
great ideas
he illustrates my poems;
Kent showed us
how art and reality blend,
signed D-Tox.
Paid five hundred dollars
for a snapshot of my life
in another remote time.
Somehow loyalty
means everything again
in that rustic pub
where we met singers
artists, drunks
exchanging my portrait
for a night of drinking.
He drew a charcoal of me
he poured out his heart
and soul
in that empty glass.
I was always a good listener.
Too busy living to write
anything down.
Now it’s all hazy
like a lost dream
of
Youth.
At least I have the painting.

Distance

I may have seen you
in a dream
or maybe it was not
as it would seem
distance plays tricks
on the sunset
time passes slow
when we bet
on it
words disappear into the vortex
of its wires
leaving behind a new set of fires
erupting inside on the drive home
creating scenarios that roam
in other realities
far from this one.

Distance is a shadow
that lurks in its silence
lures you into its domain
invents a name
a duet of some sort
a slide of metaphors

to break down each others’ fort.

It has a way of deciding your fate
can’t do this can’t do that
love evolves, transforms into
hate
until that day
when distance is a foot away
inches, this tempestuous day
and it is no longer the barrier,
but the glue
as you see right through her light blouse
and she sees behind your sunglasses
this notion is just another word now
as both your lips
taste what distance
flavour makes.

in simple words

Some people think
writing poetry
is a waste of time,
others absorb words
like young pupils,
still others have their hat on
and
walk right past us.
It may seem like a breeze, a simple tune you hate, that may have taken days
to compose in the heat of the muse.

All these wonders,
most of Them skip tracks on life;
you do not need to hold my hand too closely, I’ve always seen it.
So perhaps it’s time to tell you
that,
I will always love you,
it may be simple to say,
but we both know
how writing this
and saying this
are polar opposites
in both worlds.

It is somehow in all these places
on earth,
we visit,
reminding us of
the one we love
no matter
which ocean
we look out from.

unknown

In the damp night
your kiss
would take away
all the ache
of yesterday.

In the light sky
right before the sun rises
your arms
would caress the scars
which lie invisible to the eye.

In the twilight
your body would possess
mine
begin where I end in time.

In the middle of the day
your words
would make all
the mundane disappear
a smile from ear to ear.

In the time between time
your mere existence
would be all I need
to get by my blocked fence.

In the universe
I could be the clouds
and you the sun
and I would not want
it any other way
even if you argue
digress about my dress
our minds are above
each other’s
in the grips of
the unknown.

empty space

Woke up to your sounds
some kind of growl
similar to Ginsberg’s Howl
when magic gloves were something wacky
yet
poetry still did not mean a thing
as the Beat Generation continued their song
except me and the few
that saw those portals open
unfamiliar senses and sounds
of lost loves and words so profound
our senses were alive
with the realization
of how tulips lived and died
and the beauty never lied.

Fancy that you, baby, can comprehend
how my love rides
on tulips’ waves
their intensity, purity
their unspoken poetry.
Every word erased
is replaced within my soul
sprouting spring seeds
in the middle of Fall.
The letters in your name
as magical as mine
are to you,
so strong, full of inner fame.

These words are from my pages,
pondered on ink
then let loose on thumbs
tiny screen aches
morning solitude
pre-dawn dates
taken from my cup
to yours.

My doubt is grand
but when you hold out your hand
my faith sees the stairs
to your magical door.

I believe every blessed word
tantalizing and pure.

I cross out and rewrite now
too much thinking
on a full moon night
now day
now mine & yours.

I sleep, I wake
I wake, I sleep
and there you are
smiling at my return
watching me
watch you
watching you
watch me
this perpetual need
to be as One
and cease this infantile run.

Montreal is the call
as you wrap yourself
around me
in this empty space.

Captain

You dive right into me
as if I was the ocean
yet you have no fear
certain I will catch you
then you know
throughout
how I would take your hand
without a doubt
even if your words are quiet
or loud
It is your voice
I hear
even when my ocean is frozen
you find the passage to my soul
sail right into my very core
no other man has before
so I name you
the Captain of my heart
the sailor of my soul
the navigator of my body
the answer to my morning
afternoon
and night
questions.

You must know the lies
the made up truths
merely gaze into my eyes
know that I would travel
water, land or time
for you.