November 2000

Some new poetry by me.

OK, I'll admit it. I'm a bit sick of writing rants. Instead, here's some newish poetry that I've been tinkering around with for the past while. And hey, if you're in the mood for my poetry, come hear me read on November 19th at Mother Tongue books. There's more about that at museinprint.com, if you're into it.

Laundromat Zen

What is dark, spinning in my white wash?
Only space, vacuum, void, unknown.

The absence of laundry.

The Rideau Locks

I think about government women who came here before me.
From outlying cities-Brockville, Cornwall, wherever.
And how they wore pinch toed pumps and shirtwaist dresses,
searching for three letters in front of their names
instead of four.

And maybe like me they spent nights stalking the Rideau canal:
Watching moonlight on water in summer,
and lone, loping skaters after frost.

In rented bedrooms they removed hairpins, falsies, girdles.
And the look in the eye in the mirror
told of something bitter:
a life of scraping enough together
to find minor and elusive sparks.

A Particular Talent:

I've been said to have a near perfect mouth.
(He was trying to get me into bed)
But I'm convinced by now
that the luck of the draw,
a minor blip in my genetic code
is cause of my finest secret asset.
With a decent mouth and a six inch tongue,
who couldn't be a fabulous kisser?
Certainly I know I am.
Or, at least they say.
(When they're trying to get me into bed.)