my    E l e c t r o n i c    pen ... the 2010 edition ... the second decade, continues here ... and now...

 2011

what if i wrote here

DEC 23 7:16 am

23rd, it's a very christmasssy number
very christmasssy weather
lights shining beyond
sparkly tree, says baby bear

it's a rollercoaster, it's not pallisades park
rising; sinking; cooltaxi

so blessed is having fortune
the house will be cleaned
so blessed is having conversations
four born in four corners,
blessed is no throbbing head,
i'm chewing chewing cheeks instead

pulling at the corners of this mind
it's round, where is the center
will the edges cover or uncover
what's in the middle
whenever i find it

and baby bear, not so much a baby
anymore


why are people poking me?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YR1ujXx2p-I&feature=player_embedded

DEC 21 7:23 am

a few weeks of morning...bliss,did i say that, there's no such thing
there's no real freedom; it was a dream; and dreaming is all there really is
alas, a well-slept if disturbed little poot greets you, one and all for another morning rant
it's a rant for me, today

where's the paper, if for me, the world is white, the world is still, my mind twisted
these are a few warped entries, for some of our listeners, they need to be said, spoken, expunged
and what shape can they take, can i craft them just so, can i mold a few piles of words into something
believable - or not - useful - i'll hit 'publish' anyways...

what mode is this
this early winter mode
slaps us in the face
with all it's winterness
so white, it's gray
from floor to sky
and on the inside
heating three sparkly trees
three sparkly trees
coughing
scratching
pooting

yes.


and morning has broken
a child is calling
and dreams take flight




i guess not better than anyone else.

DEC 20 7:47 am

read the paper poots, the world is wrapped in christmas now.
where is your brain, other than here
have you left it somewhere - beside your pride, staring at each other, a staring contest maybe

we're cut off: sometimes, we like it that way.














December 17, 2010

Music: Michel Legrand
Lyrics: Alan and Marilyn Bergman
Premiere: 1983


Theres not a morning I begin without
A thousand questions running through my mind,
That I dont try to find the reason and the logic
In the world that God designed.
The reason why
a bird was given wings,
If not to fly and praise the sky
With every song it sings.
Whats right or wrong,
Where I belong
Within the scheme of things...
And why have eyes that see
And arms that reach
Unless youre meant to know
Theres something more?
If not to hunger for the meaning of it all,
Then tell me what a soul is for?
Why have the wings
Unless youre meant to fly?
And tell me please, why have a mind
If not to question why?
And tell me where-
Where is it written what it is
Im meant to be, that I cant dare
To have the chance to pick the fruit of every tree,
Or have my share of every sweet-imagined possibility?
Just tell me where, tell me where?
If I were only meant to tend the nest,
Then why does my imagination sail
Across the mountains and the seas,
Beyond the make-believe of any fairy tale?
Why have the thirst if not to drink the wine?
And what a waste to have a taste
Of things that can't he mine?
And tell me where, where is it written what it is
I'm meant to be, that I can't dare-
To find the meanings in the mornings that I see,
Or have my share of every sweet-imagined possibility?
Just tell me where- where is it written?
Tell me where-
Or if it's written anywhere?









Dec. 16 later on...

no one gave a fuck today

DEC 16 am 6:53

beguiling eyes
unanswered mail
a fool, says she.

wrap your presents
who's your darling
that would be me.

coughing coughing now, to wake the world
a ringing ear or two
an implementation
pause.
more coughing.

well slept,
i guess
thursday day
staring at a blank box
it's blank.
still.
tilt your head this way poots
you're not standing on it
roughage, hewn, alone, lone.
the lexicon fails us when we're inside out
failing and falling upside down
with dreams of flights to toronto hanging much too close to the floor
and a female pilot even.
scratch, poots, learn to ignore some things
it's not your strength.

sarah says, i need some distraction

hewn. particulate. making no sense i know.
it really is early, and i guess we're all made a fool now and then.
probably more often than we know.

let it go poots.
let it go.











9:21 pm

when the rain is blowing in your face
and the whole world is on your case
i could offer you a warm embrace
to make you feel my love

later, poots sways in her box.

i know you haven't made your mind up yet
but i would never do you wrong
i've known it from the moment that we met
no doubt in mind where you belong

i'm all about extremes. barbra noticed.
she observes me as cynthia did, so many years ago.
wondering who is this person, confident now in suits,
sexy at luncheons, a bit wild late at night, entertaining comfortably in her home.
and we conclude that i am alll of these, as hammy makes louder noises.

again, juxtaposition drives me.
how free can i be

the storms are raging on the rolling sea
and on the highway of regret
the winds of change are blowing wild and free
you ain't seen nothing like me yet

it was actually a good day.
free doesn't mean only me
and my decisions
to live with

bubble and stoke
bubble and stoke
focus on beauty
as it bubbles up around you poots
let it surround you
and maintain your rights, your composure, your essence
you can't change what you can't change
hold on to the wheel
and drive

DEC 15 too early to be up after being up too late

good morning not so cruel world. thanks for a half sleep and feeling alive anyways.

DEC 14 7:28PM - - - PAPA's BDAY

if i dreamt of you once; a thousand times; you're in my blood like holy wine
i cant wash  you away ; with smut or sleep :

divert your attention poots, sip java once, sip java twice,
you're everything now, in the rising of the moon, the swirling of the snow,
it's
it's
a practical lovefest, however unpractical


mid-month finds poots littler; taller; passionate
touch the belly and maybe the chest
poots words slanted - i hear it - not different - but maybe a little warped
it's truly necessary so let us go closer...

can i draw my arms up
and wave these thoughts away
that aren't thoughts at all

they're me; they're what makes me me; or they me trying to be me

antony has a way with words
in a very precise way
i wonder if he knows
his words are also art?

after all that, all i have are someone else's words

When the rain is blowin' in your face
And the whole world is on your case
I could offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love.

When the evening shadows and the stars appear
And there is no one there to dry your tears
I could hold you for a million years
To make you feel my love.

I know you haven't made your mind up yet
But I would never do you wrong
I've known it from the moment that we met
No doubt in my mind where you belong.

I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue
I'd go crawlin' down the avenue
No, there's nothin' that I wouldn't do
To make you feel my love.

Though storms are raging on the rollin' sea
And on the highway of regrets
Though winds of change are throwing wild and free
You ain't seen nothin' like me yet.

I could make you happy, make your dreams come true
Nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends of the Earth for you
To make you feel my love.

bob dylan 1997


and that's all i wanna know

DEC 13 7:29PM

was that sleep?

every bone of mine, attached to aching muscles, aches...

reaching out / reaching in / you have yours truly / i have mine /

boundaries only keep us in for so long; we cross invisible lines
together

and in my mind's mind, i dance, we dance, to the music that binds us apart
a vision of you strikes me and something beautiful occurs to me
it's you, not me in my headache-y body this morning
it's ok to be outside myself now
because the insides are tricky today
longing and lonely
trembling,



it might seem old, this face of mine
if only you knew
if only you knew
I've climbed a tree or two
just only without you

and now i watch you grow
if you knew
if you knew
your age will come with time
i know
i know

it's my turn to look back
at you
at you

your time will come in time
if only we could know
if only we knew


all of a sudden
i'm not better than everyone else

DEC 12 3:26PM

today is a paris day.
paris weather, paris conversation and now paris pictures, twice, on facebook.
i know the weather in paris. i have the t-shirt. i bought the terrine.


we're crying out; we're not drinking champagne; these days are back
momentarily nonchalant, there's alot going on and billy joel comes around and back again...
1976
billy joel, i've loved these days, turnstiles.




yep, i had my turn in paris.






first meal at 3:26

DEC 11 11:42AM

mepwords falling from my mouth
once again

as dishes dry;
as daughters dance;
as dizzy drums;


red-adorned tables - pictures of pretty polkadots - sometimes poetic - theme-like - is today

furniture re-arranged. check.
hard booze purchased. check.
hangover. check.

and all of a sudden, it's christmastime, full blown
the world is white outside now
my orangelit patio caked caked in icing
and this saturday is ours to have and hold

DEC 10 7:07am

early to wake, a very badly slept poots prepares for two parties. it always goes this way. harumph.

just suck it down, the ringing ears, sore back and stiff shoulders. nothing a good manhatten won't fix.

barely christmas in this house, we're earlier than last year.

sip that shitty coffee, no cream, no bubba, no RFPM, no nothing. dreams and swirls of things illegal;
don't ask me what especially you and you.
this is my space; my face; my tumble and my tweet;
on a very cold december morn in the south of canada,
i can write what i want here on this digital wall.

craving cravings and willingly willing; poots plays with words still. what else is there that won't offend.
the world is white: i feel black.

moustaches, white scarves, irish accents, and sweet sweet youth

in DEC 8 7:22am

what is random

anyway.

falling snow?
my birth?

do we see what we need or need what we see?
i'm tempted to use what life hands me
while i'm looking
and i try to walk into places
when my door is wide open

the paper sits in the snow
the world is white
i am slow

in times of mid-life, things stay with you
thoughts; visions; temptations; life,

and death.

dreams, vivid as yesterday, swirl through my tight head
and my aching belly
they're floating there; too distant to touch
but creeping into my smile
highly unusual situations with real people, my mind longs
for such real juxtaposition as that
the real with the unreal
the grounded with the exotic
and contrasts of all wild technicolor;
my life is a dream
as it once was before
and i am along for the ride
watching the unreal
watching the creation


how created is rufus
how real, how unreal,
bantering, powerful, extroverted to the point of inside outness
he bares all on stage
a troubadour's troubadour
his soul broken on display
his french broken on display
his voice broken and on display
for the price we paid
to hang out with a modern day troubadour

strung up one thought to the next;
all those who don't know each other are connected;
if only inside of me
and you

and my desire to write here
strong as ever
as thoughts and connected dots
fall from my broken mind
my broken lips
my broken ...

in DEC 6 1989, i was 24 years old. i got married in july. i travelled to France. i bought a house. i graduated from mCgill. God bless the souls and families of these women who did not.

• Geneviève Bergeron (born 1968), civil engineering student
• Hélène Colgan (born 1966), mechanical engineering student
• Nathalie Croteau (born 1966), mechanical engineering student
• Barbara Daigneault (born 1967), mechanical engineering student
• Anne-Marie Edward (born 1968), chemical engineering student
• Maud Haviernick (born 1960), materials engineering student
• Maryse Laganière (born 1964), budget clerk in the École Polytechnique's finance department
• Maryse Leclair (born 1966), materials engineering student
• Anne-Marie Lemay (born 1967), mechanical engineering student
• Sonia Pelletier (born 1961), mechanical engineering student
• Michèle Richard (born 1968), materials engineering student
• Annie St-Arneault (born 1966), mechanical engineering student
• Annie Turcotte (born 1969), materials engineering student
• Barbara Klucznik-Widajewicz (born 1958), nursing student

i will never forget.

we used to sing:
lord, teach us to pray
it's been a long and cold december kinda day
with our hearts and hands all busy
in our private little wars;
we stand, and watch each other now,
from separate shores
we lose the way



and from before....


survived the weekend
I want the t-shirt.
surrounded by surrounded by
people, friends? do i care? they were people...
who need people...at least this one does...
surrounding her...


pas de poésie ce matin
mais vendredi, mais oui
entourré par lui; et lui; et lui;
la véritable poésie, ainsi
va la vie... dit lili


forty-five and my first french poem gets published here
nearly 72 hours later
once i'm awake
i'll tell all





 

DEC3 


how much of me was i born with

           

DEC  2


7:32am
a child has died that i don't know
i stop
i weep






i reassess

i know him now

"I will see you in the light of a thousand suns

"I will hear you in the sound of the waves

"I will know you when I come, as we all will come

"Through the doors beyond the grave

...

All alone I came into this world

All alone I will someday die

Solid stone is just sand and water, baby

Sand and water and a million years gone by

-beth nielsen chapman

DEC 1


7:22
exchanging words is all we have



passion.
not of the soul
absence of light
conceals many things