In a Cluttered Atelier

I'm not fond of it - too quiet, too observant. You always telling me to shut up and observe, Maestro. Shut up. You at least have arms to clean the atelier when you annoy me. How does one punish this? Unplug it, perhaps? That's murder! Oh. Well, give it a brush - let's give it …

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Settling in with the Setting Sun

Her toes curled in her damp socks, drying in front of the little space heater beneath her desk. A cup of coffee-milk (to call it milk-coffee was to stretch towards fantasy) moved around her face: first to her left cheek, then her forehead, over to the right cheek, her lips, and then back again in …

To Nowhere and Back

The engine turned over at last, proceeded by a hoarse round of cheers. The New Year had come and gone huddled in the back of the old Honda, a burbling hookah and a crushed pack of old cigarettes (Quit smoking or quit buying, eh?) our only source of warmth. Our passing savior and her oversized …

Phantasmagoria

As she mused over the whereabouts of the missing monks, a gust of wind tugged at her haori, and the reedy, distant laughter of children seemed to momentarily vanish from the chilled air. She took another wary step down the mountain path, but paused. There shouldn't be children on the mountain this late at night.

Remember When We Were

I believe that I have developed an odd sensibility about men and women, at least as I depict them in my poetry. I suppose I could track this arrested notion to my interactions with my mother, but I would rather not open myself up to Oedipal comparisons, so let's assume this mild distortion was formulated …

It was a most troubling delivery

It was a most troubling delivery for Godot's Bistro. Clearly, the newest methamphetamines prescribed to his now second-favorite sous-chef did precisely their job in handling their worsening ADHD symptoms by obliterating a sense of general rationality altogether. "I must have... missed a decimal or two on the distributor's tags," the distressed sous-chef exclaimed, breaking out …

Endless Morning Sun

The eclipse behind my mind blots out the sun in imperfect ink droplets, radiating malignant rays of pain. The acrid smell of stale beer mixes with the bitter tang of discarded cigarette butts - a sumptuous bouquet of regret. I want to die, or just lie in bed until the crimson sun bursts from the …

Alone on January 2, 2012

I took the train out from North York, staring at my phone and the last three messages I sent into the silent, digital maw. I bit back bitter tears, thinking that maybe I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time... with the wrong person. Luckily, most wrong places have train stations out.

Le Petite Princess

She reminded me of the night sky. Maybe it was the sheer blondeness of her hair, which - when tied to those restless eyes and pale complexion - made me wonder if moonlight looked like this when She wanted to wander where the shadows were. Suddenly, I knew why foxes only danced under the Moon's …

The Agony of Creation

It begins with a word, gasping in the dark, Whereupon the echoes of its birth sound to heaven and hell, Far cries become whispers as they fold out into the infinite, The song begins. From darkness is light, from light, a furtive mote of life, Until this desert is populated by so many humming grains …