Victoria Day

being rich gives one the luxury                                                           of the future                                                                                                            as the immediate

is well financed…

 

TOO A POINT…

                                                                                              

we live forever …no afterlife                                                                                                                 improving forever,                                  

we pretend it will last forever…it’s better with age

the decades tick by and we are stunned                                                                                    by the passage of time and our impending demise

blips on a screen

oh yes lovely death  

the unborn                                                                                                                  the undead 

cannot attest to eternity      

stress levels are up                                                                                                  worrying ages                                                                                                      the heartiest of souls

ethereal realities                                                                                                     while a billion 

grind in poverty.                                                                                                            

remember 

Catherine (Kit) Corkery                                                                                             on her deathbed

“Don’t be afraid, be grateful.”

She was a wife, mother, maid, grinder volunteer.                                               Born Febuary 20th, 1919 in Brampton Ontario.                                                Died Nov. 1st 2010  , in Toronto of cancer ,

AGED 91.

from the globe and mail today's edition 

An Alive Woman On Salt Spring

Miller Time

i say i’ll quit writing at noon                                                                               when the time comes i have the thought

i should do a little bit more…

but books of pomes are hard                                                                                        I am doing the heavy lifting with a self imposed time line                                    should put in more effort                                                                                      as you do not get to live life over.  

I argue “Stick to the schedule” and stop.

340

I take a picture of a purple haired woman with a phone  in her twenties…I ask afterwards if it is ok and she says no and I say ok I’ll delete it…I hold the phone in front of her and she watches the process…she is beautiful and says the internet is my friend…I say something to the effect “

if beauty says so it must be true”

and we bump fists and I head back into the bar known as 340.

A one eyed pirate guards the corner and a Friday regular is holding court. The machinist is on crutches and the bar maid as usual is/seems to be, having a good time…a guy who is now legal and taken up guitar sits at the head of the table, a basketball game is on the screen and I order a Moosehead….

Get the train home, eat something, phone J and let her know a deposit has been made and that I spoke with a president of a Korean company…beat off and go to sleep.

man orgasms ain’t what they use to be….

those people who are mercilessly unpretentious…who are not trying to be efficient or right… a strange world and the platform which many communicate is a private company…

your communication was commodified,

controlled you nod glumly forward with your unlived face and fitnessed body…

science takes away the magic of the imagination…

god speed

it’s jumpy,