Monday, 16 October 2017

1 New Poem

The Jourdan Boulevard

Slipping between the broken paving stone,
shoes bleating a harried rhythm in rubber,
I move visibly, sallowed,
as a humbled painter,
staring blankly at the unblemished canvas
of even time:

coming through clearly, loud,
coming through in found feather ambiance,
the ego of lazy weekend wanders coming back
as united strumming on
bending jazz break corners.

The tuba honks in Metro
underpass drew a line
with pathway’s depth on
gold flake etching of what
it was in pas march to
dead hot wire, imperial
fantasia and the rest of
it.
There isn’t some idle hope
here: I’d be lying
to take it further, in shade of
wishing wells, giving trees.

Sunday, 8 October 2017

1 New Poem

Something of a Symphony

Sometimes, I am astronomical:
coiling against the pallid waterfall
of night bus stations, making
clock-face shapes with arm & leg,
as it drags still upon creeping
moonlight, upon rainy spitter-spatter
in these tonal illusions of
curious object left behind like
gaslamp papertrails for seaside
walks and camera flashes in
echo trace, still lives beating
on broken wood.

Some days I am unconquered:
the regimen of sugar drinks and
half-apologies still weighted against
youthful folly, railway gage
in vigilance of etchings,
though it is not so unbearable
now, the heating of jealous tempers
bears out a fruit of spun stories,
stilling and swallowed as ever
before.

Some illumination am I:
blinding snow angel along
the cliff pile of houses
we have here.

Wednesday, 4 October 2017

1 New Poem

Seine Water

The ambulance siren tin-whistles
through hanging leaves, stirring
air like clipper ships darting
in grace from canal point
and matching, in true form,
carvers’ chisels on pillars on
century.

When darkness comes and on go
the hawker lights, bouncer men’s
jackets and faux-American pop,
halogen lamps as fireflies on
wave crests dance beating about
their sullen wings as wash
on mossy brick.

It is why everyone comes here:
the picture-posers on bank,
booksellers with green wood cases,
wares-men with Taiwan wires and
cheap plastic on dusting tarps,
all like the rhythm of
stopped city buses.

All came to overpay for beer,
to find their hearts and fountain pens,
in the last lapping of currents.

Sunday, 24 September 2017

1 New Poem

Living in Motion

The best of times were there
behind silver-painted locking mechanisms,
sealed with Easter morning breeze,
swaying in time with suburban railway
track bends, conversing with
every conscious echo of Jazz Age
novelists, Beat philosopher and
other riff-raff whose egos litter
square, that make just overpriced
café sandwiches.

It’s when you’re there with all
the other jetsam of empire’s
backwash, trying to find those
stencil signs to head back home.

Tuesday, 19 September 2017

1 New Poem

Temps Perdu

The washers still clear water
on the cobbler’s handiwork at
a strike past eight, stilling
in brisk chill of Lucky Strike
packets, crisped up as offerings
to green square signs with names
of half the freshman philosophy
chart scribbled on them by
the same half-handed adjuncts
who threw them to nursed coffee
mug mercies when they still
had breath, sparks and such
things.

The halls of wrought iron
still clang with scrap-ash of
Industrial Age candor: that time
the magistrate knew better than all
this mouth-wording weave
made of spindle-breaking code
lines near the airport, acting
mechanistic, acting charitable with
still life cadaver oil sketches
of paving stone springs we
feel as consecrated myth,

driven out with waited time.

Saturday, 9 September 2017

1 New Poem

Where the Light Gets In

The harshness of city windows,
scrubbed-clean expanses of red brick,
the finishing school cafeteria clatter
up against inky cooling cauldrons
with tire rubber finish that stay
straining against foresight fever of
how much I needed, just to be
steady in the brigand morning.

Not staying there with anyone else,
imperfect in glassware revolution
style, shoelace fabric without
courage to slip out into
gossamer thread of kindred
spiriting, a blank repetition of
lyrical truth eluding us.

The darker silence of pastime
spaces consumes chalked-out light
fixture; how stars hid, blinked
beyond raising up
of old stone spires to where
the leaking of sun-faded fates

too do.

Friday, 18 August 2017

My Chapbook is Now Available



After the months of hype, I am very, very, very happy to announce that my debut chapbook, Songs About Girls, is now available for your purchase and reading pleasure!
It is a short volume, consisting mostly of poetry along with a bit of prose writing, that ranges across the last five years in terms of time written.
I want to thank everyone who's every encouraged me in terms of my writing, those of you who have responded positively throughout this process, the various magazines and websites that have published my stuff previously, James and Stephen for providing blurbs and advice for the book, and my publisher, Urban Farmhouse Press, for taking the chance on me.

Please share with anyone you think would be interested and feel free to promote wherever you feel is appropriate. If you do have a particular connection to the literary world, please do let me know as I am new to this whole process. I am available for interviews or any other kind of public engagement and review copies of the book can be made available from the publisher upon request. In addition, if you have idea for book

Unfortunately as I am going to Paris at the end of the month, a proper book launch will likely have to wait until the new year. We had planned to do something this month, but there were a number of delays and issues with the publication schedule and the time seems to have gotten away from us. Rest assured, though, I do fully intend to have a proper launch, with signed author copies, once I get back to Ottawa!

I'm so happy to have been able to see this process through to the end and I hope that, if you do end up purchasing the book, you enjoy reading it as much as I did putting it together.

AVAILBLE TO PURCHASE HERE