muse

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only if you’ve nothing to lose

do you gamble everything on the...

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Nashville home of music

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just seen Nashville
the movie
dunno how come i never seen it before
seeing how it might be the best Robert Altman film
or close
mash short cuts the player mccabe and mrs miller
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one time i was in Nashville...drove up from Nu Orlins on the so-called Natchez Trail
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and come Saturday night we're driving round Downtown Nashville, trying to find some music, and there ain't none anywhere, but in the end we find a place called the Bluegrass Inn, which sounds just the ticket so we go in and there's a band and they play three songs but then they stop, saying there ain't enough people there to make it worth their while so everyone can have their money back so that's it and we leave
...
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so that was Nashville home of country music
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!!!
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you're moving to edmonton?

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she must be very pretty
...
is what they say
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you've moved to edmonton?
she must be very pretty

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and two years ago they said
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you're moving to winnipeg?
she must be very pretty
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a figure of eight on its side...

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perhaps the Edmonton theatre world is only so finite
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so
i'm at a do,
a kinda houseparty welcome do for those new to the drama faculty
homey, etc
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and i meet a woman who's done the fringe for years
was in number 2
and we chat and in the end i ask
do you know ken brown
or sheri d wilson
and she says yes
...
but then we're talking about the infiniteness or not of the canadian theatre world
and she suddenly breaks off and says
laughing
yes i know ken,
we were married
ahhh
the brown in michelle brown is brown as in ken
her two kids are his two kids, who i've met
ahhhh...i think
so we go on about that infinity sign perhaps not being appropriate
and maybe its just a figure of eight on its side
a track with two bends
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which made for a
good funny moment
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noterday

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NOTERDAY

the ineffable innerfeeble

a yesless day of

lesslessness

all quasi, neo

kinda and uncertain

a nil-all draw

of un-un-undrawn curtain

goalless and

wholeless

and so the inerted body

chaste of desire

is unwearied by action

and so the mind

blurred and bleared

by its daylong traction

stirs, all night,

in unslumbered

stupefaction

so let us know then

you and i

the most discordant of all

lullabies

half-hummed

and half-drummed

the regret

of a day undone,

a day unmet

so unbegun

and unbegun

the unfilled lung

the bottled

glottal

unstoppered

tongue

…

the clipped vowels and

hardless consonants

bereft of

any kind of

consequence

…

flat and even

in sound and meaning

…

and so the mind will

the long hours know

the long dark night

of the sleepless soul

clocks

tired of life

hang at eternal

half past five

the walls pale and bare

while in the corners and cracks

of the staling air

the damp

will neither freeze

nor dry

and so the microbes

festered, will multiply

the invisible monias and osises

and enzas and itises

unwrung

and unhung

lifting and drifting

to half-filled

half-emptied lung

see i linger

so self-sealing

so unrevealing

in this underverse

beneath this ceiling

the tepid dew of each day’s fresh thought

become an unstirred spirit

staunched in stays

reduced to residue

dried in the draught

the chimes

and rhymes

ring jarring

and sparring

all unspurring

and uninspiring

a rhythm first slackened

then lacking

and then least

and then lost

a so so-so today

with tomorrow

in tow

and so

a so-so morrow

with terday in tow

the days

hallowed by possibility

by a freedom so huge

as tantamount to infinite

a freedom unhallowed

and unmet

unwelcomed and

unsaid

and so, soon,

in other wanlit afternoon

the malingerer

stretched and coiled

foetal and futile

will perforce still linger

red-eyed and coughing

drained and mucal

the days unfaced

and unembraced

passing past

the unmoved space

so let us know then

you and i

the most discordant of all

lullabies

half-hummed

and half-drummed

the regret

of a day undone,

a day unmet

reading this blog

...

...
nose deep in this trough
of words and ideas
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by which i mean i'm reading this whole blog
...
from start to end
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taking out the best ideas and writing for further perusal
further something
...
there's been lots of good ideas
some nice phrases
some gags with mileage
but no decent poetry of any length
of any more than four lines
...
...

so i'm reading it with a view to pillaging it
why not, its mine?
and to help me finally wrap it up and finish it

i approached the winnipeg blogs with some trepid
reviews etc, free press etc etc
the trauma of july
...
to be honest, i didn't really want to go back there
...
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but yeah
its been very good to read
its what i meant it to be
updowncrashbangwallop
a cycle in life
...

...
is what it is

...

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it was ever so and thus...

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The desirable the elect and the beautiful

are nodding the heads of accord in the Tower of Babel

are reading the flows the signs and the augurs of doom

while parading their women in jewellery and plume,

are strutting and commanding, are determining their wage

while fixing the bars to construct a cage

to imprison with slat and grille that motleytude

whose toil and labour provide them their food,

who're caught like driftwood in the logger's stream

and whipped and beaten to beget their cream

...