Sun-warmed Arbutus

swirls my hair,

drifts too quickly

past my face.


I smell their ghosts


in the spring

of my curls.


The redder hummers

have returned,

first Carnelian,

then Ruby.


This medicine sighs closely

like lovers breath

made union dear.


Funny how air solidifies.






I love you in rainbows

turning your cloudy brow

into Van Gogh stars

prisming every hue

back to you.


I bow to the monster

you are wrestling,

and turn back to my own,

grateful for your mirror.


I am stronger for having bared

my throat.






There be wizards

in those three trees

now witches,

now gryffins.


The three wave back at me,

serene amidst avian symphony,

rinsed in early morning brightness.


Glittering leaves dollop

sensuously behind the three,

each one hanging ponderously,

like breasts on the island of

sexy grandmothers.







Painted by lover’s breath

my skin remembers your tongue

the way light remembers

loved into existence

my music takes shape












It’s when i go in

that i can see

out more clearly.


Thoughts as I search to find a way

to portray

the sacred geometry

I now see




At first it was


concentric circles.


Now, it’s as if the entire

construction matrix

of this reality

as suddenly become


and Escher-twists

ouroborous worms

behind sunlit Arbutus.






                       Windows through donuts

Glazed with last night’s debauchery

Tongue wine-swollen

Cigarette ghosts drift

randomly between hair strands.

My body responded

but my heart




refused to part


my lips or legs.



I need magic.




The magic of him.










Have you ever cried so much that you ran out of tears?

It’s like cutting off a leg

or head.

Some part of me is dead;

that part of me that breathed

because he did

is silent.


My new reality.






                         Briefly breathing

My heart opened

fractal petals

pulsing pinkness

first breath



I now know only

of my own suffocation.


Before you




after you.





                 Salt Spring

Every curve, every arc,

every lip of this island


on my cells

my self.


The beat

under my feet

in this strand of land

travels through

my marrow and sinew,

becomes the refrain in my brain.


Singalong rings along

branching bud

possible prancing petals

playing possum

in cranial curves

and ear curls.


Furry green carpet

sighs sloppy dew drop kisses

atop my blunt booted toes

unused to such ardor,

knowing only decades of

unyielding urban concrete.


My heart drinks each beach.


I’m finally home.







My body dries


for your


the whirl of your whorls

through worlds

contained in my skin.


Follicles raise, like cranes soaring

away from their marshy lunch

the speed of their graceful swoop

echoed in my arm hair.


This antenna is too late.


Shivers have already begun


to shake me alive.







Bees buzz under my skin.

My heart beckons you

by seeking

to break through

my ribcage but

I keep it beating

by panting

to relieve

the pressure

Of your missing lips.







Wicked wears my sexy black boots

shimmying moonlight

under the naked Arbutus.


Tossing sparks out the heels,

she streams along the tree seam

until ecstasy is sewn into digital reality.


She knows the glittering void,

the velvet nothingness;

it pairs nicely with a South African Syrah

and pears poached in primordial juices.


Wicked laughs







                  Untitled #38

I have climbed mountains


I have walked darkest alleys in

dangerous neighbourhoods


I have started exactly 8 businesses


I have argued in the Court of Appeal


I have been beautiful in predatory society


I have spoken my truth before ears who were not ready


I have lived long enough to know how this goes


but you scare me.








                 True Love

Your song sings me awake.


When I’m around you,

some part of me remembers how

to breathe.


Your portal eyes pool and the

ground recedes.






the divinity in you

sees me


the birth of spiral galaxies

within your eyes.


Perception plurality.


Because of you, I am no longer




I am me and you.






             Oh, for this uninterrupted moment

to think of you.

I offer you the sound of my thudding heart


so that you might feast.


I see laughter behind the pain behind

your eyes.


To think of the feel of your lips,

the taste of your sweat.




Until my breath burns.


Every night you aren’t in my bed is a waste.







I wear the breath of my ancestors

like skin

in my cells.


Buddha-toothed wisdom

shines in the heavens

reflected in the eyes of the dead.

’nuff said.







I wore the moon softly on my shoulders

cloaked in a crushed velvet midnight

when I called to you.

Loneliness rusting my song,

my atoms beat with one heart,

waiting for you.








Fill the caverns slowly

with your port-dipped words,

those silken slips in the wind

breathing fermented candy colours

onto my bare canvas.


Gust my heartbeat to your drummer.

Kindle my rhythm so I burn your flame.


I lost my boundaries

through your meter.








Her beauty unwitnessed.

her mouth unkissed.

She knew about splendours

but only theoretically.


A celibate Aphrodite.


That is, until she chewed

the sweet, etheric nectar that is you.


She understands things now from frolicking in your eyes

that she hasn’t discovered in a thousand years of travelling.


That dancing witch.


Glistening beads of soul vibrations caress her

newly hatched wings.

Celestial fragrance beckons all the rooted factories.

Cumulonimbus visions.

Ahhh, the dimension tango.


Gossamer notes saturated her electrons

shifting her to higher realities.

Musical light explodes through her

with remembrance beyond time

and she is the whole holy hole.


As you have always been.







                In fusion

Where spirit meets cell

I’ll meet you,

feathering light through my

musical wings.


Rise through your eyes

into cosmic skies.


Supple soft song slinked sinuously

up my spine.


Vertebrae vibrations.


Pineal shiver.


Eternity blinked.









What we could have been

bubbles in the back of my throat.

It burns my tongue, stings my eyes ,and guns my heart.


Oh, how I wanted to share this ride with you.

But you didn’t feel you deserved it.


So now my bliss is solo.


Even in unity, I am alone.








When I was a cutter,

I preferred serrated knives.

The smooth ones slid through me too easily.

But oh, those others.

When their little razors tore into me,

it was a relief

to finally feel.

Even if it was only pain.

Hell, pain was an old friend.

It was the numbness.

The numbness of the tightness

of breath

of skin over cheekbones

of throat,

but most of all,

of heart.

I think I cut to make sure my heart was still beating.








I stumbled

and you threw yourself in front of me.


I wept

and you breathed me.


I slept

and you softened me.


I lived

and you celebrated me.








                   Love ends

A part of me died again today.

My very cells are broken

without her.

With out her, life is grey again.

With out her, food is tasteless.

With out her, all the notes are flat.

With out her, I am a fraction.



But with her, I am nothing.








When I fed myself you,

sparkly liquid golden sunshine

slid down my throat,

singing my very neutrinos aline.

Harmonies I’m suddenly part of

chorused the memory of your eyes

your bottomless, magnetic eyes,

tingling my meridians

heating my scant breath

pulsing moist energy

through my alert body.


The trees applauded.








I forgive myself for making myself


so she wouldn’t feel


I forgive myself for taking sanctuary in silence,

even though it has made it harder to find my voice

as an adult.

I forgive myself for doing what I needed to,

in order to survive.

I forgive myself for repeating this pattern

ad nauseum.

I am stopping stopping me.








She doled herself out sparingly

the richest dessert.

Her endless eyes

airless sighs, articulate thighs

pre-serves, post-coital.

Lugubrious words,


frosted light.

Angels’ food. Devil’s food.







When you have lived to know

the sound of your heart

wetly tearing apart

on each breath

while love flows, grows

away, into the no-named place,

and still you love,

then have you







              False sense of security

I once loved you.

Maybe not in the best way.

Maybe not how you wanted.

But I loved you,

each atom in my body singing

Your name

to the heavens.

Sometimes softly, sometimes


Fearing nothing,

secure in my love for you.











            Me, here, now

This shimmering flow,

streaming, orbiting egg.

Quantum gazillions laughing

as they dance

doesy-doeing to music

I can almost hear.

Waltzing ghosts of merriment

sizzle as the polarities collide.

Inner is outer.

I am where they meet.








The exquisite sharpness of

my throaty lump

runs from my eyes,

dripping down my cheeks,

taut from piercing tang

of worst. fear. faced.


In a room,

a judging room, the room of

Repetition, the room of no thought.

As the hot trail screams against my

suddenly icy skin,

the wetness unbelievable.


The bared soul,

honest, naked pain from another

cracks me, fracks me, subtracts me

from the human equation;

shows me salvation

through humble adoration.






             Sister Howling Moon

Why do you wander?

Curling Autumn around your ears,

off to find merrier mischief

to feed your fire-flash sight.

Dancing on lacy midnight.

Waltzing world witness

to crashing, splashing fears.

The design for you is grander

than simply swan and loon swoon.







Death throe cries

pierce my upper ear.

Somewhere near

part of me dies.

I felt your pain

plain in the night,

fighting to sense

the pastness of your tense;

the vastness of your life.

Little rat.







I don’t know any other way to love her

but with my whole heart.

I hurt with every blink.

But my only other choice

is not to love her at all.

Killing a part of myself

that deepens my song,

lights my dim corners,

and shows me life shimmying

through my cells.

To kill that.

To not love her.






Her gypsy campfire blazed

under the howling moon,

restless despite the hushing snow.

Crowing, growing, gone.

Flashed mirth, like gilded teeth

beneath the tinge of auburn fringe.

Streaming wisdom all the while

behind the gift of her smile,

and missing the twists and turns

of salty springs

of ferny woods;

fully forded

but empty of her.




            Trump card

The yam-man yammers

as he hammers

into the foundation of a nation.

It’s them versus us

what’s all the fuss

if I deport or degrade

those not heavenly-made?

A tall wall will forestall

the entry of all

into my land.

Only by my hand

will you prosper.

Give me your daughters,

and never mind

what you find.

I’ll make America hate again.

My brothers will be men again.

I have the best,

and you’ll never guess

that I’m divinely intended,

so divisions can be seen and mended.






                   Earthship Worship

She breathes her trees

in the soupy, gloopy mist.

Rivulets of joyous tears

flow below branches fingering fog

and drop into the embrace of oceans, rivers and lakes.

Lapping stores of shores,

shorn of all but bits

of sticks and stones,

where bones of who we are

and who we were

wait patiently for us to uncover

our roots, to discover

our essence

to re-member our presence

in the past-future tense.






                   Mammory Memory

My breasts never forget

Your deepening eyes

sighing, hiding

the lies you thought wise

to fill my skies, to bake apple pies

to cauterize the demise

of your dimpled thighs.

The cries only echoes now.

The pillow tear-stained now.

The loneliness aches now.

And I bow.

Going low in order to go high

So that my breasts one day may rise.







The stuccatic symphony of the rain

beats down my depression.

The immense, invisible shoulders

carrying impossible boulders

of unfathomable grief.

And it’s not just that you died

or that she left me

long before she left me.

It’s that lowness, loneliness lowing

Softly into silence.






I didn’t feel you leave me

When your body stilled

because you didn’t

I feel your spirit

You are stopping me

from hurting myself

even though I really want to

maybe as a kind of perverse punishment

as though the silence

and the gaping stillness

weren’t enough.





                     Steady flow

The very universe

must make its heady,

breathless way

swirling into nothingness

forever outwards,

to create itself,

to create space

to hold my love.






My shattered heart

still grieves

as you fade from me.

You changed the music of my soul.

And before it was horrible,

we rivalled the sun

with our luminous love.

That light will never die.

It’s behind the pain behind my eyes.

For now.





                      Oh, this moment


Love is just rejection released

Over year-long days.

And week-long seconds.


Why do we fill our lives with seconds and not firsts?


Why this thirst?


What hurts?


She who I cannot see, but who guides me

And whispers that I don’t, I can’t, that no one will ever.


It’s not that she’s a liar,

it’s just that she was never taught the truth, Ruth.


Despite the crystals she sports,

The mantras she’s learned

The wings she’s earned.


There is comfort in her dried tears, like faded flowers pressed between the pages of a book of poetry no one ever reads.


She doesn’t know any other way to be.


But I do.





                              Homie V

The sound of her sassy uke drifted lazily onto the porch and mingled

with the smoke from my cigarette.

Her song wafted into the part of me that bleeds for joy.

Feelings I only suspected

and still couldn’t name bubbled like champagne and

effervesced into the fading twighlight.






You strode into my life like a colossus

oblivious to the collateral damage

your flashing eyes and

ever-deepening dimples

left trailing behind you.

My soul started singing.


Every time.






Let’s fly

You and I

dancing the celestial dance

waltzing on nebulae

through time

which does not exist.

Panting pure bliss and joy

swirling radient galaxies around us

as fleetingly

flashing love beats

within the symphony of us






The well of my soul is full

enough to empty

so to fill again

with another heart’s song.

But the echo of you

is trapped deep within me.

I know now,

that because of you

my silence is forever






                             What dreams

Will you feed me moonlight

when you cover my body with song?

Candy-coating our slumber

under the spinning nebula

lacy and warm

sugar-burned breath

swirling around

your dewy lips


and ride


without beginning







Some part of you knew it

some dark and syrupy place

where sanguine sweetness

goes well with cold metal tang.

I will not lay myself

on your altar.

We both know how that ends.

But I will join you

in the honied frolic








I will not mourn you
While you’re with me
That day will come
Too soon.
I will celebrate you
And when you look into my eyes
With a lover’s soft gaze
You will see no shadow behind them
No throaty sorrow
No shallow-griefed breaths.
I will inhale you deeply
Carbonating my blood with your smells
Savouring the joy of you
While I can.






Love me with the passion of rain
As it kisses her crevices
Hold me with the ferocity of the cathedral sky
Roll me down the mountain
So I know the determination of the rising sun
Bathe me in creeks of fragile flowers
That I might melt with scent
Then behold me as I soar
From whence I came
For I am forever in the flash of you.







Honour my body

with your lips and tongue

build a monument to you

out of me







She wears her seashell toenails carelessly

as if her lacy-winged beauty were pedestrian.

Dancing between tidal troughs

she skims wave crest sparkles to

fling them into the thirsty heavens.

She laughs wildly as she rides the fleeing day,

seeking no answers.


Even evening isn’t even.








Shimmer clings to the giggling trees

amused at our pretentiousness.

Oh humans, how you scurry

If only you knew the wisdom of our roots.

How to allow the stillness

of witnessing

life dance lightly upon the sacred soil.







                          Elijah Rising

His tender tattooed heart

weeps onto his guitar

as he mourns lost light.

He gently places

his ache

his soulquake

his grief lake

into my open ears

bathing me in beauty

and sorrow.

My silence is bereft

because all that’s left

is the void of love.







                    Every Now and Then


I turned my Adam’s apple

Into a heart

My brain into fireworks

My blood into icicles



I mainlined my fear

My insecurity,

My anxiety



I rejoiced in my darkness

The shadow of my scream

My own, private void



I decided to live






                               Ancestral Aura

I feel the feathers of light
behind your head, Eagle Woman
Your words speak you
with dangerous jest
solitary test
nursing breast in Starhawk nest
Forehead of ancestors
Never downed
nor crowned
But domed home to the tone
Of one.







                     Ode to a date

A Medjool date is the

dominatrix of your taste buds.


Her creamy, fudgy sweetness of ecstasy commands you

to savour.


You have no choice


but to obey


her whispers


to slow




She.       Owns.       Your.     Soul.







                          Wednesday morning meditation

How did I not understand in my heart

that we are all love made solid?


How is it we think we’re apart

From everything?

When all around love is reaching for us

Making the only connection that counts


My own process always ends

in rejection, disconnection, abjection

But this was never about them

My rejection of myself. My ejection of myself.


Now I turn that into a freejection of myself

Free to see, love is me and you and all

luminescent, splendid, the glowing golden ball








I am the warbling tones

in the chill darkness

while the world

snores in deepest slumber


I live in the space between

the still-hanging notes

Your conscious thought

You soul’s pitch and gold


In the back of your bedroom closet

and under your bed

I duel monsters for

the safety of your dreams.


Do you really not know me?

Digitally eclipsed, I fade

from the vastness of the emptiness

of your attention.


Death surrounds me, gently

welcoming me back

whispering that you will remember

When we three meet again.








This healing is searing
my scalp flames down
my jaw
I cannot speak
the words.
Bird hums for me
wind of wing
stabs smoke
I feel








Throbbing, sobbing ecstasy

catches in my throat

sparkling through my pulse


Secret radiance

ever present

but concealed


Now infuses my crude matter

Cascading, trilling, enthralling

Singing one message



But I want to keep it

It’s mine, I worked for it, I breathed for it

I made myself unfocus for it

This shimmering shield


Thrilling excitement

Electric vibrations

Stirring, rousing, stimulating


But most of all



But solitary light

fades against divine splendour

dulls celestial song

slows vibration

lowers luminescence.


To connect, you must release.


If you can.








                           Cherry Blossom Magik

Cherry blossoms meander softly

on the prancing spring breeze

lacing the streets with pale pink confetti


and falling in my blue streaked hair.


No meditation, tai chi, or yoga today

but they are not needed

while magik beguiles me

petal by candy-dropping petal


On this enchanted island

She is already activated

and patiently waits for us

to wake up, catch up, wise up and stand up

For her


Who knows that grounded goddess

that Gaian rhythm

that lush liberator?

The cherry blossoms do.


Or so I heard her breathe.








                     March Morning

Dawn’s rosy breasted robin

perched, preening in the distance

overlooking the crisp, frosted grass

her song trilling over the buses

setting the dew on fire.


Here, bushy tail aquiver

in the apple tree we call Ellie May

her sensuous limbs home

to treasures undiscovered


The armour coloured

Bright eyes

flies Wallenda-like

from branch to trellis to deck

‘neath the watchful eyes

and switching tail

of one too well-fed to pounce

a life lived in words, notes and tints

too precious for high-heeled briefcases, and

mirrored elevators that never reflected my

swollen heart






                         Separate Unities

I sing a song of myself

Amid the din of the world


Trembling to listen

and give voice to the unworded


Fear fully fledged

Makes me pause


mid step


but love tickles me back

to reality


outie and innie

there is no difference

my project is to not project

but remain in change








                            Granny’s Glasses

Granny’s glasses were ugly and brown

Round lenses with thick, plastic arms

She wore them to thread needles, to knit

To read recipes, sometimes even to watch tv


She didn’t need them for everything.

She could cook curry and roti, rice and stew

Make bread, birthday cakes and fudge

without needing her ugly round brown glasses


I didn’t get why she just didn’t have pretty ones


Then one day, she took me shopping with her

To buy wool to knit a blanket for my aunt

And she asked me what colours I thought

My aunt would like.


It was the 70s, so I choose brown, orange and yellow.

And then, I don’t know what made me


Maybe it was just being 14.

I choose mint green.


She asked me a few times, looking troubled,

if those were the colours I liked the best.

I nodded, feeling secretly powerful,

That I was going to give my aunt a horribly

coloured blanket.


How Granny’s glasses must have flashed

while she knitted the blanket

not understanding the colour choice

but creating anyway.


I didn’t’ see the way her eyes loomed larger

behind her glasses as she made the comforter

but I did see her eyes

when she gave me her hard work, as a



Behind her glasses, I saw the truth

I saw her beauty

And my own ugliness.









The walls of my house

Beat with your heart

Quantum harmony weaves

Whispered breath blankets

How can I be cold?







                         Valentine’s Day 2013

The sweet nectar of your eyes shimmers in my wine glass as I wait for you.

This hallmark day, this manufactured day celebrating the processed food of love

cannot touch us

does not define us

will not stop us

from being real.


I felt you within me before we actually moved together.


Because, my love, you and I are



and on the threshold of greatness.


We have fought, we have cried, we have lost, and we have driven each other to the precipice of madness.

Only to rebound and find ourselves stronger, more committed, and even more in love.


So, bring on your electric eyes. Our world is about to change and I know in the marrow of my bones that we are scarlet and crimson.

We are wine and blood.

We are more than a stiff white envelope.

We are destiny.






                             Sniggers of Joy

Sniggers of joy, jostling and joking, eyes wet with tears

Of laughter.


All gathered around a computer. At work.


Laughing. Laughing at a black woman.


A black woman eating cinnamon.


Too much cinnamon.


Her gesticulations and wide eyes reminiscent of Satchmo,

Of whom most of the ill-bred children with whom I work have never heard


Her face contorted in pain. Laughter at her pain. At a black woman’s pain.


A black woman like me.








                        Watching White Birch

Watching white birch

Barks, “Can you?”

And eyes me through phantom limbs

Sinuously unwinding my watch

Undoing colonial manses

Unstructuring infra

Welcoming mossy mats

And golden-hued rushes

To the red and white

And all the browns

Play together









I lose myself in your heart-brimmed eyes,

surfing chocolate waves of pain and laughter

eternally echoing

in my blood

and beyond.


How is it your eyes contain answers

to questions I don’t even

realize I’ve asked?


I know you from thousands of meetings

of lips, tongue, eyes, soul.


Once upon a time we loved each other

like Friday night teenagers.


But this time around, maybe we

aren’t us.


Now there is longing.




Feeling like I’m missing something.


Questions I can’t google.








Not intended,


Too drunk

Too checked-out

Too far away

To know their


Words that imprison me

With invisibility

Trickle down

And all around


Un-praise rips my flesh and

Vibrates, lashing my back

Bursting my heart with grief

When it should be relief

At her beauty


I hear my own ugliness reflected

in the spaces between the words.

Always her

Never me


Never did I once see

Attention paid to me

Without her


Always her

Never me








                        SEARching my soul for forgiveness

Casual, off-hand vocabulary

Diminishing me because of the colour of my skin.


The incident is now “incredibly insensitive” of “all of us”


I don’t think I can be included in my own reduction, so maybe it wasn’t “all of us”


Casual, off-hand vocabulary gets me again.


I know spite wasn’t the vehicle. I know I was not the target.


But the pain is still Guantanamo-level torture, although not their responsibility.


How to overcome?


How did those detainees forgive?


I know that I am not perfect. I know that I am very far from perfect.


How to move past this? How to escape this mirror?







Be the fire

within my breast.

Boil my breath,

so that I breathe out steam,

like a dragon.

You dragonify me.

I have been dragonified by you.

Now I dragon.

I dragon hard.