Friday, November 27, 2009

the jerk eats meat after all

ego eats the rope.
There is no reading list
isn't that a funny joke.

Beneath the reach of that enigma
is muck
and you know it

Shave poor substance, darlin
and appear as you are
wet faced and bare to the world
a sickness carved upon the pillow

who comes to play in pools of the fools
who are taken in by magic

You know it when you see it
if you have the

Monday, November 23, 2009

It's not their fault.

The "magazine" has to publish on schedule. Pay its "editors," empty garbage cans every evening. Grist the pencils.

I could fill my eyes with bad poems. Enough syllables to suffocate lang-wage. Which is really the problem.

Stop publishing bad poetry.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Lovely day

Good day today. Great pottery studio. Someone gave me a bunch of free clay too since it was our last day of throwing.

Cupcake Camp, Montreal version, let me indulge in a plethora of pastel goodies to benefit Kids Help phone, a charity close to my heart.

And new(ish) shoes! Nothing like cake and shoes to cheer a girl up.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Tuesday, November 17, 2009


goes out to my grampie Doyle O'Connor who I knew for the first 5 years of my life and who passed on in '79. He gave me the gift of music. It has influenced my poetry, my life. Saved my soul time and again.

Isn't it interesting for the past 3 years I let that connection idle.

Time to bring out the instruments again. Maybe I'll have me an old-fashioned hoe-down New Brunswick kitchen party to signal the return of music to my life.

Would anyone come? I could always strap on the ole instruments and perform a one-gal band. ha, my 2 cats would run for the hills.

Back to work.

Saturday, November 14, 2009


academia is not glamorous.

But this kind of is. Sort of.

Monday, November 09, 2009

Kitties and monkeys

Kitty eats with chopsticks.

These cats are not using chopsticks. And look very mischievous. Dark, even. Planning evil cat music.

And this, well, is something. An invitation to dance, perhaps.
Who loves monkeys. I loves monkeys.

Am planning an essay on miniatures. One needs great patience to work with miniatures, creating a world of one's very own. A microcosm of the macrocosm, where one reigns omnipotent. So it is written.
One must love herbs as they love and protect and nourish us.

Saturday, November 07, 2009

Damn. Piss up a rope is already taken.

Thursday, November 05, 2009

We are obviously not in New York

where student discounts and cheap tickets at the opera are made available to people of ANY age. Montreal, how can I afford your "culture"? You need to give students a break. Even 15% off. And while I'm here, come on, stop spending your money on such bad advertising. I'm sick to death of those wide angled face shots. Opera singers were never meant to be seen that close up. They can't act "through" the lens. It's not believable. If you're going to continue to do it, you need better make-up artists and even better actors. And I have to pay all that money to see one of your operas. Yeesh. Make it easy, will ya? It's no wonder you're in all that debt.

Oh how I've been spoiled by the Met.


Wednesday, November 04, 2009

God, academia, who wants to get into bed with you? Relax a little, give us a mug of hot chocolate and take off your shoes. Then that essay might seem more appealing... and maybe even conquerable.

Essays. ugh.
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