Her hands were in her pockets. They were there when I picked her up and there when I dropped her off ( Read more... )

I am in a terrible, furious mood, and I don't think it has a foundation.

I've moved to Winnipeg, where I listen to the girl groups of the sixties, with a runny nose, and a lazy disposition in regard to finding employment; a sewing needle in my hand, and scrap leather in the other.

I will lay the winter down in defeat.

People, unspecific, have told me in the past that things like this are all in your head, but that is precisely the problem. There are cities that make me remember things that I left behind. The map of the Northwest is spotted with blue-toned moods, as if it all comes down with the rain ( Read more... )

I just got into Portland a few hours ago, and I have already fallen in love with this helpful girl at the library ( Read more... )

faces that dream orange tropics
pinkish lemonade handfuls
this constant dye we bathe in,
or that bathes us
this light that drips,
that "washes"
is never the right colour
it turns upon skin in oval patches
so that you look like the dinosaurs kids dream for

I've been eating ideas again.
And puking.

**

Half of me wants to hole up somewhere.
The other half wants to sleep with someone non-specific.

**

Certain cities question my humanity.

I'm leaving the city tomorrow, Montreal good-bye. I'll walk until I'm sore, all for a mosquito net, and a decent place to hitch from ( Read more... )

I'm trying to decide between two cities, two massive obelisks that obscure at the tip, and here I am, no where near either of these two places, to the point of not being able to see either of them at all ( Read more... )

Out in the backyard of my mother's house, I put out my sun tea, and I was picking fresh oregano for her marinade when I reaffirmed my yearning for true peace. I was dreaming of my own little cottage, out in the lowlands, bordered by streams, when I realized that it is an internal creation ( Read more... )