Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category



I own a home. I can wreck the walls, I can fuck the paint up. I can do whatever I want and not give a single shit about what a landlord has to say and who has to pay because I know it will be me or my wife or future wife. And I don’t […]

    A sweater vest, a sweater vest! My kingdom for a sweater vest! O friends, o friends! Of all people, how could this happen to me? My bold-faced hubris has left me stark, exposed and tied to a tree.   But fret not friends, fret not on this day! I can raise your dander, […]

The font of stupidity overflows, soaking the worn floor of common sense  as even the most mentally surefooted slip and slide like greased pigs in a pen.   Ineptitude overwhelms.  “What does that mean?” Nothing, nothing at all. “What do you mean?” It’s well apparent, my dear;   Well apparent why ninety percent of business […]



I know a guy who does hydromorphone because he isn’t into brand names and he doesn’t use a needle, just a twenty dollar bill — which he says pays for half of one useful little pill. But it takes the edge off the d-N-methylamphetamine He grinds them up and savours that burn. He gets high […]



Some more poetry… I suppose if I have a favorite among the few that I’ve written, this is it. So judge me accordingly, because I’m a terrible judge of myself and if the words do nothing for you, a veritable cornucopia of over-punctuation just might. life is not beautiful; discussion thereof: clichéd, confined to highschools, […]

Former Glories


BRITAIN STREET Saint John, New Brunswick This is a street at war. The smallest children battle with clubs till the blood comes, shout ‘fuck you!’ like a rallying cry –– while mothers shriek from doorsteps and windows as though the very names of their young were curses: ‘Brian! Marlene! Damn you! God damn you!’ or […]

A Friday Pome


Another perpetual work-in-progress from the archives, horrendous formatting and all. Convenience Shortened breath sweat beads condensation on a pint glass — the collar’s edge a deeper blue. Doubled over labouriously calloused hands on knees. Too much. Season premieres, Sunday nights. Dog ends and grocery bags, Fives and tens, aces and dice; Bingo daubers and potato […]