dA Toronto Meet WritingIn the middle of the day, a crow keeps watch over the docks. It stares across the foaming waves, the waving sails, clutching the post with worn talons. Out of nowhere, a hawk flew down with a snake in her talons.A glare was exchanged between the two birds, and the crow cawed loudly. It's true that the early bird gets the worm, but what if there are two "early birds"? Then, I guess they will fight for the worm, but if there were 3 early birds, what would happen?Of course! They would throw hand grenades. "Mango!" he screamed, and ran off to his happy corner. The others looked at him curiously, before shrugging and walking the other direction.It would probably be chalked down to malaria. And malaria is a very dangerous thing! So, we drank some tonic water before continuing. It was easy on the gullet as it went down, but it suddenly reminded me of something dreadful. That terrible night in mid-October, when the dragon came.
Southern SummersMaybe the God we don't believe insees the damage in my head;I've only written one namein all the placeswhere fifty others should've been.As Ben Folds hammers onI articulateall fifty statesdrawing a modified mapthat puts you in arm's reach.
revelationsthis town allows meto write a book of revelationsnot wanting to seemlike that awkward in-betweenthe saccharine of "clover still grows between train tracks like an oasis to the wandering"I will punctuate with "the separation from what threatens to overwhelm is as thin as the steel before the highway"but in a moment of epiphanywhen I am truly awedI'll struggle to write "huh"as I slide over the railingwith clover in my hair
firesidecardboard shoes give me walking bluesbut in this dance I am revellingwhat I wouldn't give to be one of thosewho can distance themselvesso I could marvelat firelight on sunburnt skinand the sand's abrasionof a concrete heartwhat I wouldn't give to understand you and me.
the chaseOh moon: would you outlast me?I am your equal and opposite, forever burningand signaling with my presencethat all things must start anew.You, content to sit with your stars.Those bright reminders of frail existanceand inspiration of artists pastsurround you in your darkness.And we, who see each other but briefly!The passage of my life seems lonelyas I watch your stellar transitsurrounded by dreams.Speak to me.