Friday, February 26, 2010

drink things from my typewriter

we're all better in smaller
i thought,
but shes not.
She's better in the hung
over mornings
and the strung out
and the walks in the parks
when maybe i want
to hold
hands and
she doesn't
and that's ok.
in the pews
and the stained glass
and the 4am meows
at the door.
she's better in the sheets and early mornings.
she's becoming my fingers
on the keys,
she's becoming that
my eyes once thought
i didn't want to see.
drunk things frommy typewriter

silence can be the
between a
win or a loss (used right)
stay calm, stay quiet,
rely on ignorance,
it rarely knows
when it's lost.
It's a fragrance,
it's a poll
left up to the last vote.
It's the pollen in a flower
in the kitchen window.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

drunk things from my typewriter

Ireland, I think
we could be friends,
if we got to know
each other better,
have a few drinks just by ourselves.
I've been on your beaches
and with your woman
and in your bars
but you and i
we never seemed to really
get any alone time,
to actually get to know
one another

and since you gave me
my father
and my fathers father
and my fathers fathers father
and his mother,
and her mothers mother
maybe you could give
me a few tips
on how to get them
to loan me
single mothers

Baby, we’ve seen a lot tougher times then
She’s burning through money faster then
She said
I was pulling up my skirt
I was scrapping up my knees
In between
The motorbikes and epitaphs
And names in the

I said,
‘oh you don’t say..’

She put the money in the glove box
And got a Kleenex for the nose bleed

I think it it’s time to get outta this city,
I think its time we blow this scene

Friday, February 19, 2010

drunk things from my typewriter


I’d run away,
We’d hit each other
Ya nothing too much just playing
Tough guys
Well, I was the tough guy,
just living, just surviving in the house
With demons and fat men
And a woman that used to be a woman
And I stole their liquor and drank on their roof
And would break in when they went away
Ya it was a team game, I was always outnumbered
But I walked miles
And miles in the middle of
Winter they would never walk
Never have
that hate
Never see the view through a bottle on the roof
Or spend a night in a cell
With so much disgust in your blood,
almost confuse it with
drunk things frommy typewriter

something about decades
and children and children songs
news casts and authors
and writers with loversss
something like a drunks sunrise
something likesecondplace
drunken things from my typewriter

9 beers

it's something like
hide and seek,
waiting to see
what we see in eachother
drunk things from my typwriter

christmas party

they stand and they dance and they
with hand gestures
and ddddrunken eyes
tapping along with the beat-
how interesting
they converse
like ants
crowding around
sad but excited,
they finally found something
after scrounging on the
floor for so long
drunk things from my typewriter

shots to death

i felt dead and
well, that's alright.
i'll try not to offend.
maybe you can smell it but
you can't.
some call it a gift
like being able to train a dog.
give your death
sit and stay and eat
when your food is on
the floor.
i smell you
i know you
spilling and staining
curdling the food in my stomach
we know each other
you, and i
so don't forget
and talk to me not as a stranger
but as a friend.
drunk things from my typwriter


a little less talk
isn't always that bad
a few nights apart
some yards
some words left
in the throat in the cave
in the wishing well
i see the wolves
she sees the kittens
the lions, the cubs.
drunk things frommy typwriter


If we go it will be together
And the hair cuts and the tooth aches
And the hydro bills
They will all arrive in stride
And we’ll sit and watch the
The neighbours through our living room
And park the car at the back of the lot
Just to make sure no one
Bumps the doors, with their doors
And I’ll grade papers
And she’ll cut carrots
And when I start thinking of these lives
Between drinks and bills
And grandparents
And stolen cable
And mortgages and love
And king size mattresses
And MORE parents -
How is this desirable?

Hank had it right,
Suffer a while,
Drink a lot,
Marry in your 60’s
Die at 74
(it all comes in stride)
But you should only love
One thing right,
At a time.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

I’m getting tired of the morning always coming
and the holes in the boat
but never drowning

Monday, February 8, 2010

somtimes grammar gets in the way of the message