Wednesday, May 21, 2008


The term "drunk male-prostitute"
Gets thrown around a lot these days...
But I'm here to tell you that hash anthems,
And waking up to Rush, particularly "Closer to the Heart"
BLARING on the CBC, at, I shit you not,
Seven in the A.M.
Makes me feel proud to be a Canadian.

It's easy love
Like the office copy-girl.

Nationalism always blooms late,
Like the Yard's apple trees, this spring.
I hope that when I move to America,
There is flora all around,
And I can forget my nervous heart.
Know that I can lose the dividends
In a stylish car-chase scene.
I want to fit your family like moccasins made during dreamtime.
If we fight, we can sweat it out, I swear.

Roll me in pancakes,
Let me tend to the flocks.
And if the opportunity presents itself,
An exquisite murderama?
All night sleeping bag hide-outs,
Blink at me animal child.
Sweet as a mass grave for diabetics,
And figs in my eyes, and jingle bells stuck in my throat,
Stop. Look.
And Listen.