Years compressed
a blank slate the wish
instead of a history redundant,
intransigent, intolerable.
More of the same without a new outcome,
only more virulent in its expression.


Unlike most long term relationships
that fade over time, lose traction,
lose passion, lose significance.
Released unconditionally, untainted by loss.


But this thing, this thing we have created
is darker than dark, from the deepest part of the known,
broadcasts despair and channels ever living memory into
one single thought. When will it ever end?

At what point does the clock turn back,
reverse course, spin faster than usual,
that buzzing sound that use to go tick, tick, tick
now hums with annoying persistence, the hands
always moving, tracing an arc that has already been drawn
and quartered?

i don't want your dna
or your hair color
or your ambulance chasing thoughts
i don't want your random phone calls
your insincere inquiries
your baseless doubts.

where were you
when she was lonely?
what did you say? with no reserve...
no imagination...no moment in time
that meant enough.

and now you wonder where she is
you can't reach her
not because you have something to say,
not because you care,
not because you really love her
but because you think you must.

the hat?
it seems ridiculous.
to love your head impossible.
what's a torso but a stand to hang your hat on?
what's a stand but a cause that is ignored?
what's a hat when you can hang yourself?
what's a head when there is not a thought?

for the love of a new world,

ensemble.

we impart nothing,

understand less,

thirst for more

and in the twilight, retreat.

 

where are we?

wondering or not,

wandering in pursuit of happiness.

nothing’s changed

so why does it feel different?

 

this place

a space unrecognizable.

familiar enough to get used to it.

this place

no place you or I belong

but for the sake of it, we accept.

 

eternity an every day thing to navigate

and then the abyss of total recognition.

how we swim to keep up.

how we hope to swim

with or without,

defenseless.

with or without a compass,

with or without

and then….

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                MM

            11/20/09

 

 

 

 

In the dark
of cover
under cover in the dark
like a heat seeking missile
I abdicate all rights
(mostly those I don't want to give up).

Hot, light, black of dirty days
lost to a past I can't erase. Like a heat seeking missile,
I don't want to last.

you stand there wondering why you're
staring at a canvas wondering,
staring at a feeling
at a thought
at an angle
wondering.

why do they stand there staring
at a painting
at a color
at a brushstroke
wondering why they have to buy a couch
a car
a vacation house
when they can't buy a painting?

you sit there wondering why you're
staring at a page wondering,
at a dream
at a phrase
at a point of view
wondering.

why do they sit there staring
at a manuscript
at a plot
at a narrator
at a word
wondering why they have to be so literary when they'd rather buy
a mystery
a thriller
an airport book.

wondering why we do it...
 

Multicultural, modern, historical, diverse, the city of Montreal is a writer's paradise. Infused with the heady aromas of the Mediterranean, Asia and the Middle East, the colorful and vibrant outdoor markets and restaurants with that native ambiance exacerbate my fixation on the culinary arts when I should be paying attention to the soul of the city, her people. Always stimulated by the Musee d'Art Contemporain, Christine Davis and her multimedia installation of choreographer Loie Fuller, an 1800s modern dancer who attempted to patent her use of the elements - electricity and fire -in dance is juxtaposed with Mallarme's poetry and Euclid's geometry. True genius. Betty Goodwin's retrospective was amazing - her abstractions on tarpaulins, tracing paper, vellum, steel...puts the expressionism in art.

Do the thing
or don't.
Why do we have to
pave the way
for that vast wasteland
we feel desperate to reclaim.
Now do we?