I feel myself
crumple and crease
like the folds of a
crushed paper bag.

My skin weighs on me
as I pinch the thickness
of my thighs and sides.

Bruises forming where
skin should be thin,
but has been memorized
by fingers that shake
whenever I cry.

I am not made of silk.

I wan to fall madly and deeply in love with you... I want to wake up next to you, long before you do. Just so that I cant watch you wake up to the world. I want to claim you when we go out into public. Scream at the top of my lungs, "THIS HUMAN BEING IS MY LOVE AND YOU CANNOT HAVE HIM!" I want to fight over who ate the last of our favorite box of cereal. Claim up and down that you had the last bowl, even though it was I who finished the box and just forgot that I had. I want to walk our dogs together. I want to sit on the window seat with your arms cradling me. We'll be watching a Summer's storm or a Winter's storm, or a Spring storm or even a Autumn storm; only because you know how much I love to do that. I want to read my favorite poem to you over and over in the dead of night. You'll know it so well, that you will randomly whisper it to me while I sleep. I want to take baths with you and showers too. Honestly, I just want to be held by you. I want to stay up until the next morning talking to you about nothing and everything in between. I want to tell you my fears. Tell you why I am the way that I am. I want to be the shoulder that you lean your head on when you're too tired from a long day at work, or when life has just gotten to be too much. I want to be the person that you call first with good news and bad news too. Sweetheart, know that you are all those things for me. I want to wake up from a nightmare, to find the best dream lying next to me, waiting for me to indulge in its sweetness. I  want to go on adventures with you. Travel the world with you. Sing songs about you. Scream songs at you. Get drunk and have hot, wasted *** with you, and only you. I want to visit your favorite place in the world and find the meaning of why it is held so dearly to your heart. I want that place to be our place. So that we can always have somewhere that is just ours. I want the world with you. I even want children with you. I want a house with you. I want bad fights, that leads to sweet apologizes and make-up *** on the floor. I want my life with you, and the next one, and the one after that. I want everything I can't have and everything that I can, but only if I am with you.

In wanting to forget
There is regret,
Pain,
And love.


F.Z.**N

Are you really so far away
That I cannot touch you,
And feel the crinkles of your sleeve
Underneath my fingers upon your arm?

Would you simply look around
And turn away again,
Not knowing that I talk
To you all by myself?

Even if you could listen,
And not hear a word;
Would you know that I’m
Just a little bit crazy?

Just a little bit crazy
With longing for you.

something about the cold drew me to you
the temperature of your bedroom kept me there
"i always liked the cold" you'd say
i wondered why
now I know it's because you craved inseparable proximity
you required love that i couldn't give, though i wanted to so desperately

you turned me into ice
because as soon as you made me melt
i cracked
and ran

Must we lust?
Can we stop
this deadly sin within
from showing on our skin?

What are we even lusting after?
Daughters and sons
and the untouchables.

They say lust
is the root of suffering,
devalues love, devalues you
to nothing more than
merely a lust of the blood
and a permission of the will.

They are right, of course.
But O to be lost in delight, even for just one night.

Then - when we've quenched this lust
- then what?
Move on the next thing that takes our fancy?
or move on with our lives?
what's the point?
We're already guaranteed our own special circle.

Must we lust?
these things we lust
do rust and turn to dust
only to blow away
at just the smallest of gust.
Causing more suffering.

Yet, we lust on.
We trust in lust.
We must lust,
even if it kills us.

Gertrude, Stradbrook, River and Roslyn,
off of McMillan, my thoughts froze on Osborne
A drive through the Village on slippery streets
Bought records, drained pints
                        swallowed down summer nights
Back home in Wyoming--think I'll be fine
                         'til some night, filled to gills
                          trip through streets with a stranger
                          and sing "One Great City"
                          through swollen closed throat

And I remember...

Confusion Corner, commuting through cold streets
Watched you drive as the daylight died
I narrow my Focus,
                                     you eased into traffic
The Assiniboine ran and was watched by Riel

January.
Johnson's Terminal.
London Fogs.
Took Yellow Dogs for long walks
and Exchanged now for then. Snapped pictures, again and again.

Snow up to my hips
Spent a night at St. Boniface
We cased a cathedral, your friends seemed to like me.

Lines ran from reserves, over oceans and borders.
Your hair ran down shoulders, brown waves for a blanket.

Winterpeg, Manitscoldout
Portage & Main
Shivering, smiling
at a Tavern Uniting with friends,
'til we took the King's Head...
We took the King's Head.
Long live the king.

January.
Magic Thailand.
Curry soup, curried thoughts thawing,
melting, falling from pickled brains,
                      through lips chapping

I donned my Tuxedo, chopped down Seven Oaks...
Your Catholic heart spoke
     reached out for St. James.
     St. Vital answered behind Fort Garry's walls...

Our hearts, they were neighbourhoods
And the streets were all salt.

Blistered paint on your blue '02 Focus

To the City Center of the continent's middle
Form a Perimeter
Frame a city
Bullseye, center, a Gold gilded Boy
he leans into sky, as they sing, as I hear.
The road North Ended--November, it was.
I think, one year prior, in Robin's Donuts
front doors swayed, on hinges that sighed metallic,
I caught your eyes--organic, unplanned--
               through fog frosting lenses
Caught them, held on
               Held your deep brown
               In my gunmetal blue

Seasons will chase--haste to follow more seasons
White streaks to green
and the Red River runs.
When they score at the ballpark,
"Go Goldeyes!" the cheer sounds
Cheer. Cheer!
The Guess Who still ****,
but the Jets completed their round trip
"Go, Jets, go!" so the cheer goes.
"Cheers!" Cheers like bells.
             Bells
           Pealing
Peeling like your sunburnt back
            Bells
          Ringing
           Striking
Bells singing long
Bells sounding loudly from Grace Bible Church
  baptizing Baltimore as it kisses Osborne

Bells ringing. Round sounds.
Round rings for fingertips touching
Bells
Round sounds that hang on my neck
and sing me to sleep every night--
remind me how badly you wanted those bells
                I denied you.

They sing "Left and Leaving"
             and show me old scars
          they ring and peal and strike
                         and sing
                         unending.

I remember March of 2008
Dropping my toque in the mud-and-slush street
            We took Pembina Highway
              Ate Vietnamese.

I remember...

Confusion Corner,
Commuting through cold streets,
Watching you drive as the daylight died
In your blue '02 Focus
Ease us back into traffic,
The Assiniboine River.
And Louis Riel.

So tell me...

Comment-allez vous, ce soir?
Je ne suis pas comme ci, comme ça.