... Storm warning....'

Storm warning / batten them hatches brother/ 
  check them curtains sister/watch yer flowers/lady/ 
                         bust that gallon mista /say a parley to the god/of wind/rage storm/

Pray that Hurricane Away.

Reading in this strata and that: Doctor Sax _ Jack Kerouac. The Trial by F. Kafka, which I read before but am redoing . In between these readings writing, and other things. I write the books and texts that I read. I study read again, read, study again, read. Start over, push off, pick up, mutate, continue. Eat, walk, live, love.______________________________________________ 

 if yer gotta stand on yer head/ then breath/ yer nose/ 
 cut the cups/ dig, the feet/

__________________________  Montreal is a strange city between 'all' things

 and rigging in i ts multitudes it doesn't care about philosophy but about love and blindness and a  woman a ma and a bed in a room a cloud  a turning

     a river a walk along its border
       a detour 
   pressing its escape    ~



Out of their

~~  C.P. So is everything you write fiction?

C.D. Everything except me. And what would be you if you were you.

Mona holds a seizure and  a disease of real folk. A tender thing between her pitching legs and the tent.

No! not the tent! jILL  winging the fair wind of wrestled__ no  no trestle pieces, and bicycled paces. Hum her . Hum of her wiggle. A set of eye fair to brown startle the tree heads out of their places.

________________________along the rusty button a geyster bashing the sky!

It's Mona  and a ruin or another reunion to the dare double plus tie.

 her prisoner has his own jag
  infinitely discovered 

in that absconded area whee the accents hum revolt
not language or bonding but freedom 

but your back is sore and her buttocks are butter ___

Equal  partings and different heart hammering the dayblue glow.

he's haunted by the  boot on her foot. It taps across the city     A tough weed for parking lots.Along the plank  a dareme devil tune



and and


 Doctor Dada you gotta redo some of them phrasing  ... the riff got tangled in the wirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeee of the blues you was flinging

'Flinging' he says
mud  as in the wrought sigh world and patter and ringround the matter.

Okay you gotta redo those. what does it mean to redo.

iMagine first tries
   and imagine

each phrase  is  a duck shoot and when you perform the voice yelling an yowling!

how hell that hound to the phrase beat 

 Drop that horn baby
you aint no poet you a performer born
to soul and knoll

like  a woman's ass rolling churning burning the boy's heads
in the summer heat beat acrossyour balls
in wish that' s want in the one that's one
in the woman's about to be woman's legs shaped as the fire wood
burnt by the skull of thollhe voodoo god dolls

O no that was a riff imrov 2  3   1  a Renoir painting doll eyes
exquisite to the center  direct

and now the rolling sigh
of bodies after love calling 

moon sun stare and star
wish for the relief of the air
sweeping along over the traces of the hollow of their bodies

not like the 'exquisite' caftan the craftsman gild and roof
but the surreal bacon of your beats
not the heat of american puritan
nor the fear of canadian parliamentary comprise compromise
bu t the long shadow of true love  
   not the repressed thing of puritan american closed down criticcal paranoia

but the way her ass wiggles twentyffirst centry black woman high on her ground

to be a square is not to stare
   staring aint neither square nor cool
but the bodies attitude to the stare is what says it all
what's cool is not the ear nor ass but the carrying horse crying call

  and the naked ass kissed by the lip

and the ring in the pose at the end of the pier

and the music rattling the shore




imagine... First tries ...

 Who would foresee this way
  it's heart of the sword history a bastard massacring its father

and the rough sword caring its knee
    the wild hedge road the near wood

 its been time and half naked wonder
  spared at its flesh wound
  her betrayal upturned lips
  never to see a hooked fish sperm
  railed to its present
          m o m e n t

nor the liar of race and religion
raving at the plus cadet  the rugged woman her hat spooned out
 at the upturned jaguar

nor that anyone knowing matters making a difference to the true path and free
as the tombstone the halter lies kicking up the horse
where he lies
dust under his rainbow brief

who'd hear that word
pedalled by union and division multiple signs
 ghost of tender morning fortune its playpen
 grappling the awkward heel of intent

  the rough sword carving its knee would imagine

  ~       ~



 Who would foresee this way
  it's heart of the sword history a bastard massacring its father

  Now that's not the word
    is it? a tender taming of  f ox
              and right

   between each
     not nickle or plate gulf or sea
    nor the random chance of reverse going goal nearing time past
           past the one who you thought and thought nor
t he near rearing of this desperate demise
                  desire a queer sort of soldier
  brought out by the word sucker the tenderest shoot
  of its belly preeminent among things

    and your red dress
    this meal acquiring its balance at your feet





O kiss the ass of the cold and fuck everything   ~

o o  ohohohoho! yes siree it's that awful time of the year
   as Rimbaud said ' life really is horrible...'

  but fuck that. get it between the teeth. a deck of dollars.
 Sioux fall rapids. im a n punk hippy doctor doodadada dahdada
not impressed with nose rings or pink colored hair
or eyepads
electric books

im  not impressed with cheap 'in'  tuition
and capped gowns
nor the bullshit that goes round and round

i like cigarettes and screwing
   and i m not happy when my fiends   pay 37 bucks for  a couple a hamburgers and fries
and  a  can or 2 of water.

what shit.
but the tickled rich get richer with their shit and condomoniums
and condoms
and wars
and space wards
and shit

and shit





Don't stand on your head! stand on you feet between!

between what DoctoR?
  between your asscheeks?
or the sun between
   or the rayon glad beam of your butt?
  but what's  abutt but cream
f or the lovers

and the rest of the turd turkey farm dung!

a she goat making  a hell-sound on the hill!
  hollyhocks! hills! dales! valleys! cliffs! abysses! mountains! O peak!
   O peak of your breast!!

 what a ruin this forest is           ~.


is the moon red?

is the moon red  with your sighing
   are you dying?
  does it ring with a  passage of moaning?

____ a strange sarong! a song of your body
          like  a blossom  twisting into the air's scent
a  tinsel tune of making connecting returning

is it red with your calling?





I never saw your eyes
  I never tasted your lips
  or held your waist my arm slung around it
   like  a lover's brooch
hooked onto your hip
 gliding riding
 connecting two to one

time's going
   eternity's drumming
the dead are speaking
 the living are waking

Never woke with you by my side and
  life is running fast as days shuttering night
    and friends are dying
  season and season and hours into night
hold a  scape clear to the landscape at the end

and we know how folly works its brain
 a n  d   the hurt are hurt
    the wars never end
civil and global
   in this patterning disappearance of peace

but it's always been that hasn't it?
  men and women caught between the troubles of the crazy and violent
between space and greed time and hate

some say this is not poetry some say this is spelling words on water
  on the sun
men of power
dictate who's lonely who's not who travels who excells and  not

and life carries on  a fortune for the few
democratically dreaming of its new beginnings and hurt
only really gets going as it looks to be ending

remembering its right to vengeance  mortal pain
and the judges wait as they do
hammering away gavels at the awful front of what they do

I never seen your eyes
  I never held you hand
  I never got inside you
riding riding we riding two lovers in the hitch

       I never seen you eyes

I never kissed your lips yet
   not yet no not yet
   but life's not over
   life's not at all over
           life's not over



and again

someone knows you're looking  but not you

  thumbnail screws

    like have a  coffee tingle that thing tingle thing
as which to was  rang the bell right down your door
thing thing take  a  thing and  ring

someone knew you were coming dying but  not you
  nor the ones said what they said did what they said as 
not  a  word once came across the dark blue deep and the wrecking shine
captured plane heart 
reeled on its standing stock still