e
Juniper Trees
Distemper
Night Winds
Amherst Island
Ancient of Days
Constantly Deliberation
The Drunken Boat

KING AND JOHN STREETS
(FOR ISABELLA VACANCY CRAWFORD)

When the shadows are hungry
animals on walls
and theatre goers are
parliamentarians engaged
in a repast or feast
of words.
the lone house stands
as a stone shard or sliver
about to disengage itself
from the eye.

For behind boulders of tenement
walls and vines creeping
to match the red brick of
sumac and the parrot bill of fire escape stairs,
I watch the building
cylindrical in the darkness
crouching thin air
as if an awkward child
were about to make strange
for the dozenth time.

There are few things to duplicate
plaster held by the bite of wind,
open poverty like lesions
refusing to move.
neglect that festers
to pop the endless seams
of the mind like burning
radiator caps,
scalding water to lighten
the lanced up eyes of vermin who
lather these swollen rooms.

COLETTE

The waitress mainlines
the cup under the saucer
balancing it on the
waistband of her arm
much as a junkie
might tie a tourniquet.

Wiping the glass edge
of the table
clear of croissant crumbs
& watching the barely dry
reflection of her own
image going thru the emotions.
the California chic
pothouse & gardenia
bloom effect of
her work is enough
to leave a dirty smear.

CHINATOWN I

And a little farther
the Fu Manchu mustache
curved in mock epic proportions
of a scimitar un-sheaved for action,
perhaps the executioner's progress
his victims entombed to their skulls
in rolls of quivering earth--
the parting of the ways
coming as your coin drops
to the rasp of his
tin cup chuckle.

TORONTO

Quennelles. Lady of the Gold Horse with Diamond Eyes.
A bottle of Napoleon brandy for the Count and two Persian
lions carved in wood.
Salads Nicoise.
Dinners at Pre Catalan in the Bois, a Toronto equivalent.
A girl named Chantilly burning charcoal in the forest.
I drank a cocktail with the girl of the white polo coat.
Or as the cynic said, my pipe is the tent, the tobacco
the days of my life.

THE DRAPER'S CLOTH

I imagine stars at the dragon's tail,
eyelids ringing with butter.

I want to brush palms as
lightly as two sparks.
take the wand of your waist