POETRY

On a shelf of volumes
bound to me, binding,
I extend the vertebrae,
the body, a gathering
of sewn leaves,
limbs of multiple endings,
luminous spines
in column palette
— stacked either way,
verticals to heaven —
tattooed with lofty cursive,
worlds folded under covers
ready for open palms

Under my jacket
I spill anatomy,
my vellum skin,
organ of written word
and backbone stacked
in raised bands, up
to my ink-cartridge head,
tongue inscribes paper scars

On porous pulp, under nose musk vanilla scent, under fingertip, text densifies, nerve ends to cellulose walls, — acid-pregnant and fading bones on…

POETRY

The evening is stretching
a streak of sunset driving thru
sax shines up the avenues
in sweet spots under lamps
dappling parade of pedestrians,
revellers falling into the night

Moanin’ call-and-response,
dusk blue against torch of orange,
keys gather up the horns
while the beat lines it up
and sends syntax flying,
swinging to unravel
cat-call solos & riffs
untying all the roads

Feeling swell of life,
inside the bass of night,
footprints bold with swagger
on buffered concrete
heels pulse offbeat
mocking math in new metric

Every one of me wants a solo, — to play out different moods…

NOSTALGIC MUSIC RELEASES

The way I went about buying records was rarely a knee-jerk reaction to hype, especially at the turn of the century when there were a lot of good rock, hip hop, and indie acts being drowned out by supreme shit on mainstream charts. I vividly remember the excitement of buying most of my favourite records but rarely associate it with the day it was released.

I have a sort of disdain for being at the mercy of a Tuesday morning release when the world of music offers endless catching up. …

POETRY

Hot and loose
out in the vast afternoon,
summer haze is cut in electric blue
struck by sun, gushing chords
charged with seafoam,
with effortless heart,
like surf, we soar on the bloom.

The wool-clad glow of evening
in bass vibration of yellow-orange hues,
is the year’s twilight diffusing
softly in pockets scenting the cool.
The trailing leaves tap a rambling beat
on the road, the frets radiate in,
to tender dark the cycle of seasons
is a truth of wistful partings.

Winter bows to secret life naked from all the departures, this isolated sustain in the wide is a…