Inspiration: Still going and coming across canada and not being home in either place … help … on the way …
Yet to fly (00/11/05)
From a quiet sunshine coast dock – wanting to sooth the grief of a friend whose partner has just died.
Hardest days of life
When someone leaves
And we’re behind
To carry on.
Flowers and
"you’re looking great"
are comforting
to weep upon.
Reluctant heart
In a quiet room
An empty hand
To say "he’s gone".
A ray of sun
breeze fresh the air
His chimes of wind
To spring our song
And fuel the wings
Yet to fly –
His acts of love
To us belong.
Another year of patient hands (00/11/16)
He was given one year more
Rising from the apparent dead
Choking back the sudden fear
Certain of the road ahead
They both could travel in harmony
Growing thru their different ways
Grinding Grouse, or London Bridging
Certain that commitment pays
Now he’s gone again for good
Leaving many tales untold
Wondering where the purpose lies
Certain there’s no pot of gold
Patient with a hand to hold
Fill me – there’s not many (00/11/01)
There’s many things
I’m afraid to say
There’s many times
It’s not the day
There’s many roads
To find the way
There’s many tracks
I’ll make life play.
There’s not enough
Of a script for me
There’s not a lot
Of words for free
There’s not sufficient
Electricity
There’s not yet even
Authenticity
So fill me full
of heart and soul
Fill me from
A spring of slow
Fill me fast
To flood the road
Fill me up
Its time to go
Reluctant crust (00/11/01)
Back in Vancouver for a few weeks – feeling lonely – landmarks are not so obvious
No Ralph on the wall at Turks
Nor gracing tables –
And the comfy chairs
Are displaced
By reluctant posture.
And a little choked cruise
Down the drive -
Unencumbered -
Unnoticed.
So a wee grapefruit
to blast the gravity
to wonder.
to liberate time
for the me
I trust.
Or at least
To soften the crust.
Lucky Three
Sometimes the survival of a few
Sometimes paranoia with you
Sometimes a big step from two
Don’t push your luck
Remember to balance
the desire for spontaneity
with that of customer service.
Take frequent risks
But not the same ones
Too often.
Make an agenda
That you keep
coming back to.
Make lists
And stroke
To completion.
Mist goodbye’s (00/11/17)
Leaving again – rationalizing the inevitably sadness – wanting the pain to go away
The leaving's coming up –
Hardly any air to
Carry a voice on
The wings of my fears
I’m not gone yet –
yet choked to
Tears splashing on
The pages of my days
The list is long –
From sad goodbyes to
missed hellos on
the history of my homes
I’ll be there soon -
Lover’s arms too
Comforting on
The cry of my dreams
Elect me (nov 24)
voting is good.
choosing is hard.
cause nobodies willing
to stand on guard.
No ice today (nov 26)
But we do have …
one trapped mouse
two happy children
various sparkling shores
infinite big sky
Daddying (nov 27)
spaghetti's cooking
the kids are looking
at TV
essential you (30/11/00)
for larry
i feel your frustration
the space of no motivation -
so find a few small accomplishables
today i did wood chopping
and pool pump supervisoring
and clothes closet repair -
cold hands but sparked brain.
do a trout lake -
glide with the ducks
rap to a bullrush
envy the dog walkers
remember the essential you
spiritual laundry (00/12/01)
its not about suds
or bleaching off.
forget the choices
such as "soft".
but it could be sundried
or at least hung out.
for trusted folk
to talk about.
the slidedeck (00/12/01)
attached -
but always in flux.
the deck slides
to open eyes
and minds.
The process was focussed on crazy (00/12/07)
I’m vulnerable when I get frustrated -
A small computer mistake
taking me tens of second’s.
Can cost much more
If I take "just a peek"
At some porn.
Or when the wet wood whines
and I can’t find
the woodsman’s number
to complain.
But I stay focussed
on sane.
Though in the process
I often forget
where I was
and it almost
drives me
CRAZY.
good work (00/12/08)
For catherine who mobilized the entire ubc faculty of educator to donate their used hardware to tradeworks training society in Vancouver
somebody in the downtown east side
will surely label it
"another UBC plot
to infiltrate the community" -
but you did good work.
Letter to the president (00/12/08)
On the occasion of my cousin’s entrepreneurial son making it big with a dot com
so you made it to the top heh –
?whattya think of george bush –
i hear he is not too sweet
on canadians ...
anyway your lyricfind.com
will probably make you
lots of dough
but …
the search doesn't seem to support quotes, and
"artist search" only worked the first time, and
you tried to sell me an album
even though you didn't currently
"have the rights" to publish the lyrics
to hot rod lincoln.
moma hated diesels -
so bad.
These things that take more than one day. (00/12/22)
Don ‘t get angry – ask.
Don’t intuit - ask, ask,
Ask around.
Don’t be afraid
Of what you’ll find out
If you can’t get thru
Or see a light
in their eyes
don’t look away –
just wait
… stand at least
a deep breath …
now ?what’s it worth
and gonna cost
to make a difference
or just
to calm
your mind.
I burn with impatience
These things
That take
So long.
I’m counting (00/12/22)
The kitchen ticks off
Seconds of my discomfort
With the TV laziness
Of Margaret’s
son.
Should I boil the stew
Any longer
Fill the seconds with
Some icy scotch
Knaw on a paw
Olie style
Or be counted out
By the referee
For the WWF
Everywhere I look there’s a memory (00/12/22)
Everywhere I look
there’s a memory
of chopping chat
or frying fat
to grease the plate
with gossip straight
or some confession
its my obsession
to melt the ice
with steaming rice
No more debating new year’s dinner (00/12/26)
Its getting harder to remember
And easier
to forget.
Technology is here to help
But can’t reverse
a new year’s fete.
Of rice crackers, melba toast, ritz in a crab dip –
1 can crab meat, 250g of cream cheese, extra horseradish, onion, worschestershire.
One dozen Devilled eggs.
Hand rolled cold meat including
roast beef, smoked turkey, salami, black forest ham -
as much as
a pound of each.
Piquant pickles, olives, beets
Maybe a cheese ball after
some discussion
of how much work
it is or isn’t
Vegies dipped
in sour cream
and onion soup mix(ed)
French sticks
times 2
… pause …
Chocolate muse, Cookies, Coffee
And all the while wines
and softer drinks
for 15 friends …
don’t take the threat to
"make this the last one"
too hard.
Given Regularly (00/12/28)
Another visit to aunt elsie – she’s hanging in at the nursing home – and only mildly irritated at the lengthy goodbyes which she has to "do every nite"
"we do this
every nite"
helps to remind me –
I am obliged.
To ask
"?how can I help"
with all my
facilities.
To add a little value
To sooth a little pain
To pass a little time
Though I might disdain
Or dismiss the chance
To breath aloud,
And join the crowd
Small Steps (00/12/28)
Take a rest
Take some time
Take the steps ...
Get some space
for the race
you must face
build some heart
for your part
at the start
choose a friend
that you’ll tend
at the end
earn your say
every day
on the way.
Copyright Notice © Peter Gillies 2001
Any excuse to be on the plains:
Quebec City Summer 2000
Inspiration: Who wouldn't be inspired to climb the cliffs
A good excuse to be on the plains (21/07/00)
Cruising the cliffs below the citadel and wondering what it was like to be on patrol above …
1 800 HO BRITS
or *69 on your cell
if you see any Anglos
scaling the walls
below the plains of Abraham
once they have
conquered
you’ll get some real
technology
to use against the Americans
just don’t go outside
the citadel walls
without a good excuse
Local Talent
Its kinda noisy in the backyard of our lovely Quebec city summer condo …
Buzzing saws
B-rated babies
The man who cuts his lawn
With a power trimmer
They come to play
Throughout the day.
They sing along
At evensong.
They laugh at me
From every tree.
They slip away
When I must stay.
Trussed Bridge
Don’t get too bogged down with
?Why they want to know.
Trust their ethics.
Trust the power of experience
To shape a variety
Of opinions.
Take the givens
Explore the unthinkables
Build the bridge
Between the two.
?Gotta vision
margaret received an email from a federal government communications officer indicating that the appropriate officials were "gonna" be at an upcoming meeting. That set off a little debate about the legitimate use of language.
We feed the fish
Every nite.
We sweep the catbarf
Outta site.
We gotta vision
Of a well sat house.
We’re gonna discourage
Your average mouse.
Leftover destiny (23/07/08)
Two teenage girls are a unique phenomena to which I am somewhat unaccustomed …
My daughter and her friend
Each have their own
14 year old personality –
which shines alone –
but when they are together
there’s less to distinguish.
They like totally
know all the words.
Its cool to help out the radio
But not to say "bonjour"
Without excessive drama.
However at dinner time
They will sit down -
Without the consensus laughter -
And wonder over seconds
?what’s inside another’s head
long after I retire
they’re reviving leftovers
to keep the nite young
and destiny in their
own hands
No magnostic anomie
Imagine the positive side of things I don’t like about margaret – then portray her that way …
It’s hard for her
To use the "I".
She’s humble
In her speech.
To "you", the "people"
She sends her invite
To wonder
Or to teach.
And "no" is not
Her way of staying
Safe within
Our reach.
Still patient
The mother of the woman whose condo we are renting had a fall and has been moved to a rehab centre …
She peers out
Past one glass eye
At her daughter’s tenants
Come to bring her
Some clothes.
She thanks them
With patience
Learned as a teenager
In some new hampshire
Sweatshop
She marvels between
French and English
At this so many years later
nursing home comfort
She reveals quietly
that the hospital food
was better
but the view here
is right across the St Lawrence.
No spaghetti with the tigers
My daughter left me with a nice farewell as she boarded the train to Toronto …
I miss your spaghetti
After a few days without any -
And of course I miss you.
Let’s jump in the car
To hunt junk food afar -
And a tiger or two.
When we get home
You’ll take off alone -
And I’ll miss you anew.
Caught with oxygen (25/07/00)
Sister Linda again keeps me close with family tales …
This time its living
You’re reporting on.
Dad’s sister looking way back –
"I can’t believe they put those
ribbons in my hair. Heh –
I can’t believe
they called me Elsie."
She had your eye
And ear –
"I’m sitting as still as I can" –
and daughter Marilyn’s familiar jabs.
A Stratford weekend.
You felt the importance
of leaving Ernest early.
?Was it like 25 years ago
when sandra and i and uncle jack
watched paul henderson
puck the Russians.
But there I go again.
"hello I’m back
It’s Elsie" she petitions
The nursing home staff
With a laugh
As you drop her off
And say goodbye
?Whose coming next -
"It’ll be Susan – she has no money"
and hence requires no time to make it.
Well - I want to see you too
To talk again of things you knew
And didn’t.
Like the one catch in the invitation
To share nice nursing home digs
With an old friend -
"She came with oxygen."
He saw to the fraction
The backyard noise continue - ?conspiratorially …
It’s a two saw nite
So I can’t be right
That he’s working twice as hard
By alternating yards.
But maybe he’s a friend
Of the grocer round the bend
And will profit at least a fraction
From my drinking to distraction.
Hope at the top of the hill (28/07)
Music starts them talking
Or sometimes they stop
Because it’s the top
Of the hill
Get yourself a local for a chat
Either way
You’re gonna say
It en Francais –
Or hope you will
L’isle d’orleans (29/07)
One big strawberry field
Punctuated by potatoes and corn.
Seven saints with a parish each
A place to worship by the beach
A pulpit to blow the horn
Don't Bach with the separation card (30/07)
dorothy and i do church
Bach brings them in
250 years after death
he’s helping the ministry of culture
fill Quebec’s churches.
Not distinct, but distinctly separate.
Wolfe won the plains in 20 minutes
After 3 months of bombardment
Then built the citadel
To keep out the Yankee lust.
And it didn’t cost much
To ensure the canons
Could also be turned on the city.
Sure we’ve had our "Crisis"
The occasional political assassination
Even referendum angst with its racial slurs.
Someday even the separation card
Will no longer be playable.
But don’t wait for it.
Remember them (30/07)
"Remember Ms X and Mr. Y –
Ill this week –
And pray for Mr. Z –
Cause he’s dead."
This strikes a Freddie pang.
As do the bells – they ring
To welcome this first church in months.
I do thirst
Search the truths
Found in wisdom’s mouths
In sickness’ reach
Even death’s departure
"ah men"
and women
remember them.
One choice (31/07)
A deadline tomorrow –
The hard of choosing
Can no longer be relocated
To some future wisdom.
Choice has practical implications -
The symbolic weight
Should not be undervalued.
Esteem the process –
Reward yourself
Selecting one of life’s
Difficult paths.
Respect that one –
Its time will run
You’ll choose again.
Harder (31/07)
I like it getting harder –
I thought I knew my limits.
How to confront them
And nurture tough.
Think on my feet
And stumble - en Francais –
Au guitar – dans les escaliers –
Un certain sorte de risque
Take some new ones
Don’t be paralyzed by fear of not having
What I might lose
If I like it getting harder.
Easily irked in the act (31/07)
Something in the act irked me
The gall the vanity the misguidedness
of a pre-run stretch
beside a major roadway.
Okay, so
Take some time
To look around
And see what more impossible place
The runner may have come from.
Heh,
Recall my own
(never realized)
plan to print my phone number
on a t shirt worn running
on a daily commute
across the second narrows bridge
now,
that was an easy stretch
wasn’t it.
Yesterday’s horizon (05/09/00)
not much left of the day
don't want much more
anyway
i got here
on the long road
from yesterday
to the horizon -
there's just a little light
for flags to pray
Copyright Notice © 2000 Peter Gillies
A good excuse to be on the plains (21/07/00)
Cruising the cliffs below the citadel and wondering what it was like to be on patrol above …
1 800 HO BRITS
or *69 on your cell
if you see any Anglos
scaling the walls
below the plains of Abraham
once they have
conquered
you’ll get some real
technology
to use against the Americans
just don’t go outside
the citadel walls
without a good excuse
Local Talent
Its kinda noisy in the backyard of our lovely Quebec city summer condo …
Buzzing saws
B-rated babies
The man who cuts his lawn
With a power trimmer
They come to play
Throughout the day.
They sing along
At evensong.
They laugh at me
From every tree.
They slip away
When I must stay.
Trussed Bridge
Don’t get too bogged down with
?Why they want to know.
Trust their ethics.
Trust the power of experience
To shape a variety
Of opinions.
Take the givens
Explore the unthinkables
Build the bridge
Between the two.
?Gotta vision
margaret received an email from a federal government communications officer indicating that the appropriate officials were "gonna" be at an upcoming meeting. That set off a little debate about the legitimate use of language.
We feed the fish
Every nite.
We sweep the catbarf
Outta site.
We gotta vision
Of a well sat house.
We’re gonna discourage
Your average mouse.
Leftover destiny (23/07/08)
Two teenage girls are a unique phenomena to which I am somewhat unaccustomed …
My daughter and her friend
Each have their own
14 year old personality –
which shines alone –
but when they are together
there’s less to distinguish.
They like totally
know all the words.
Its cool to help out the radio
But not to say "bonjour"
Without excessive drama.
However at dinner time
They will sit down -
Without the consensus laughter -
And wonder over seconds
?what’s inside another’s head
long after I retire
they’re reviving leftovers
to keep the nite young
and destiny in their
own hands
No magnostic anomie
Imagine the positive side of things I don’t like about margaret – then portray her that way …
It’s hard for her
To use the "I".
She’s humble
In her speech.
To "you", the "people"
She sends her invite
To wonder
Or to teach.
And "no" is not
Her way of staying
Safe within
Our reach.
Still patient
The mother of the woman whose condo we are renting had a fall and has been moved to a rehab centre …
She peers out
Past one glass eye
At her daughter’s tenants
Come to bring her
Some clothes.
She thanks them
With patience
Learned as a teenager
In some new hampshire
Sweatshop
She marvels between
French and English
At this so many years later
nursing home comfort
She reveals quietly
that the hospital food
was better
but the view here
is right across the St Lawrence.
No spaghetti with the tigers
My daughter left me with a nice farewell as she boarded the train to Toronto …
I miss your spaghetti
After a few days without any -
And of course I miss you.
Let’s jump in the car
To hunt junk food afar -
And a tiger or two.
When we get home
You’ll take off alone -
And I’ll miss you anew.
Caught with oxygen (25/07/00)
Sister Linda again keeps me close with family tales …
This time its living
You’re reporting on.
Dad’s sister looking way back –
"I can’t believe they put those
ribbons in my hair. Heh –
I can’t believe
they called me Elsie."
She had your eye
And ear –
"I’m sitting as still as I can" –
and daughter Marilyn’s familiar jabs.
A Stratford weekend.
You felt the importance
of leaving Ernest early.
?Was it like 25 years ago
when sandra and i and uncle jack
watched paul henderson
puck the Russians.
But there I go again.
"hello I’m back
It’s Elsie" she petitions
The nursing home staff
With a laugh
As you drop her off
And say goodbye
?Whose coming next -
"It’ll be Susan – she has no money"
and hence requires no time to make it.
Well - I want to see you too
To talk again of things you knew
And didn’t.
Like the one catch in the invitation
To share nice nursing home digs
With an old friend -
"She came with oxygen."
He saw to the fraction
The backyard noise continue - ?conspiratorially …
It’s a two saw nite
So I can’t be right
That he’s working twice as hard
By alternating yards.
But maybe he’s a friend
Of the grocer round the bend
And will profit at least a fraction
From my drinking to distraction.
Hope at the top of the hill (28/07)
Music starts them talking
Or sometimes they stop
Because it’s the top
Of the hill
Get yourself a local for a chat
Either way
You’re gonna say
It en Francais –
Or hope you will
L’isle d’orleans (29/07)
One big strawberry field
Punctuated by potatoes and corn.
Seven saints with a parish each
A place to worship by the beach
A pulpit to blow the horn
Don't Bach with the separation card (30/07)
dorothy and i do church
Bach brings them in
250 years after death
he’s helping the ministry of culture
fill Quebec’s churches.
Not distinct, but distinctly separate.
Wolfe won the plains in 20 minutes
After 3 months of bombardment
Then built the citadel
To keep out the Yankee lust.
And it didn’t cost much
To ensure the canons
Could also be turned on the city.
Sure we’ve had our "Crisis"
The occasional political assassination
Even referendum angst with its racial slurs.
Someday even the separation card
Will no longer be playable.
But don’t wait for it.
Remember them (30/07)
"Remember Ms X and Mr. Y –
Ill this week –
And pray for Mr. Z –
Cause he’s dead."
This strikes a Freddie pang.
As do the bells – they ring
To welcome this first church in months.
I do thirst
Search the truths
Found in wisdom’s mouths
In sickness’ reach
Even death’s departure
"ah men"
and women
remember them.
One choice (31/07)
A deadline tomorrow –
The hard of choosing
Can no longer be relocated
To some future wisdom.
Choice has practical implications -
The symbolic weight
Should not be undervalued.
Esteem the process –
Reward yourself
Selecting one of life’s
Difficult paths.
Respect that one –
Its time will run
You’ll choose again.
Harder (31/07)
I like it getting harder –
I thought I knew my limits.
How to confront them
And nurture tough.
Think on my feet
And stumble - en Francais –
Au guitar – dans les escaliers –
Un certain sorte de risque
Take some new ones
Don’t be paralyzed by fear of not having
What I might lose
If I like it getting harder.
Easily irked in the act (31/07)
Something in the act irked me
The gall the vanity the misguidedness
of a pre-run stretch
beside a major roadway.
Okay, so
Take some time
To look around
And see what more impossible place
The runner may have come from.
Heh,
Recall my own
(never realized)
plan to print my phone number
on a t shirt worn running
on a daily commute
across the second narrows bridge
now,
that was an easy stretch
wasn’t it.
Yesterday’s horizon (05/09/00)
not much left of the day
don't want much more
anyway
i got here
on the long road
from yesterday
to the horizon -
there's just a little light
for flags to pray
Copyright Notice © 2000 Peter Gillies
"That's how you'll live"
spring '00
Inspiration: my aunt survives, my lover's wise, my daughter thrives
Its hard beneath the memories sky (17/05/00)
years ago my cousin Marilyn and I connected at my sister’s wedding, and I ended up with a large collection of family photos. Recently my father’s only sibling - aunt Elsie - had a serious stroke. The phone rings and family talks.
They say you are dying.
Talking about fond memories.
Pulling out the pictures
When once you were young.
?Will there be holes to fill –
Or ?does the grass just grow over
And the shrubs flesh out -
Beneath the memory’s sky.
Its hard to say goodbye.
My present life seems meaningless to you.
But you tied up some ends last time
With tales of my 3 year old goldie locked dad.
That’s how you’ll live
Caught with oxygen (25/07/00)
Sister Linda again keeps me close with family tales
This time its living
You’re reporting on.
Dad’s sister looking way back –
“I can’t believe they put those
ribbons in my hair. Heh –
I can’t believe
they called me Elsie.”
She had your eye
And ear –
“I’m sitting as still as I can” –
and daughter Marilyn’s familiar jabs.
A Stratford weekend.
You felt the importance
of leaving Ernest early.
?Was it like 25 years ago
when sandra and i and uncle jack
watched paul henderson
puck the Russians.
But there I go again.
“hello I’m back
It’s Elsie” she petitions
The nursing home staff
With a laugh
As you drop her off
And say goodbye
?Whose coming next -
“It’ll be Susan – she has no money”
and hence requires no time to make it.
Well - I want to see you too
To talk again of things you knew
And didn’t.
Like the one catch in the invitation
To share nice nursing home digs
With an old friend -
“She came with oxygen.”
Challenging the assumptions (16/05/00)
Written in the time of Cognitive Therapy. To be told as a story – a little urgency creeping in until just before the end
Last night Alexa gave me a vegetable peeler -
A quick gift while dropping her at mom’s
And when I left up came the big wave of fears.
I can hardly name them.
“But try”
“I don’t give her enough (love)”.
“I won’t be giving her anything if I move away.”
See how big it gets.
You should feel the heartbeat.
I’m learning to question those voices.
Not shut them out
Hear the message.
Not my innuendo.
I’m starting to explore their foundation
“what is enough?”
“She may be getting what she wants”
“I really enjoy finding the connection –
Tonight’s taekwando lessons
Got me spinning and kicking”
“I may move away for a while”
“I won’t lose touch.”
“I’ll be giving, and receiving”
“I’ll be creating new contexts for her”
(Deep breath. Hold it. Slowly …)
It’s a truer pulse now.
I’m able to feel and reason
To peel the vegetables in season.
In my 20’s (07/05/00)
On the advice of my doctor I bought "Feeling Good - the new mood therapy" and with the help of the Burns Depression Checklist was quickly able to put myself pretty accurately between 0 (no problem) and 100 (extremely depressed).
22 pushing 25
which is the line
between mild and
moderate depression.
“Pretty intense suffering”
defines the latter
which is what I felt
so don’t mince words.
“thoughts of suicide” but
no plans to harm myself nor
desire to end it all
is commonly observed.
I’m on my way to
“Feeling Good”
Looking for a 10 -
Or under.
Not the way we are now (29/04/00)
The map of a thriving Equilibrio
Looks very foreign
Discipline, deadlines,
Urgencies loom.
The road is long and winding
And not for us the way
We are now.
?Can we go there
Let’s devise a fair test
That won’t kill or break us.
We’ll know we’ve arrived
When our ideas excite
And enough dollars flow -
Some to feed us
Some for place we don’t yet know
Prone to quiet fears (29/04/00)
Not trusting us
Is you and me.
And also
Each alone.
We bring our fears
To quiet feed
And marvel
How they’ve grown
Without a chance
to own the faults
To which we
might be prone
Hypothetically no fences (08/05/00)
Tonite I want to fill
Your eager to please mouth
That tongue which
Loves to tease
With hypothesis’
and references.
Those lips that toss
Seductive airs
With questionnaires
And inferences
That throat that drinks
My creation
With elation
and suspenses.
That smile which
Holds my rapture.
Like a pasture
With no fences.
Patient Tongue (09/05/00)
I like to wait.
And talk about it
In anticipation.
I savour speculation
Along the lonesome lines
Of your lithe back.
I want to wonder
Around those not quite
Bottecelli hips.
To inquire tonguing
Between ripe buttocks
Your tight bud is eager
To be talked open.
But I like to wait.
Taste some (11/05/00)
I own your pussy
When I lift the short skirt
To admire your tight belly
And slick mound.
Turn slowly
Legs slightly spread
Tight thighs kissing
Your savoury bush.
Spread a little more
Eager clit offering
To my firm hand.
Lip teasing
Getting you hot
And wanting to taste some.
Slurp at my
Wet cunt fingers.
Come to me -
I cannot worship your hole
From afar.
Space to put them on (18/05/00)
You need more space.
You need more time
To lie naked before me.
Tense ready waiting
On hands to
Draw out the lion -
To tame the edge.
But not release it -
Pose it a as a question
You are eager to explore
A soft instruction - “I
Like the skimpy blue frills” -
So put them on.
Give yourself some space …
And time before
You lie naked before me.
Talk of something softer (22/05/00)
Let the images come.
In her soon to be purchased collar –
Fucking her hot eager mouth –
One of those sexy nities pulled up over her hips –
My cock enjoying her tight little hole.
Lust
Power
My pleasure
Our phone sex yesterday gave
something softer –
To take the blood urgency our of my dick
And brain.
Gentle kisses.
Slow caress.
Back off – enjoy the lines. The muscles.
The quiet beauty. The peace.
Resist the urge to put my tongue in.
Struggle.
Seen counting beans (16/05/00)
Larry and I had coffee last week. Slouched in my favourite Turk’s couch I remarked on the painting on the opposite wall – “that’s Ralph, in 20 years.” Today I notice a painting of Ralph, the one I know, counting beads. And then I saw Ralph.
Ralph counting beads
Painted on a square foot
Rests atop my Turk’s table
A thoughtful moment captured by
“james”
Interpreted for the world
Of surprised friends.
Maybe a curious stranger
Will share the karma.
Fast Confession (18/05/00)
I cannot refuse to use –
To treat myself to a few
More hours to cruise
My brain – align it
With the slinking in
Porn/chat/tell
Buy/sell
Of 13.4M Canadians
Online
Or just be
Alone in song
Or spoken mind
Or splattered down
For others to find
And Szing along.
Model without (22/05/00)
?Can I do without
And enjoy it
Perhaps I’ll be the bottom for a while
Focus on her pleasure
Give not get.
Hard to stay cool at that.
Or how about the ascetic –
A sensory examination of depravation.
That gets close to it –
my mind is constantly reflecting
on “not having it”.
I could try the inspired
Artist, businessperson, parent –
Fill to the brim with responsibilities, lists, goals.
Discipline seem to be lacking.
Or how about the eunuch –
Find some way to turn it off.
Extend the functionality
Of the shut off valve vasectomy.
Left on the hill (meg barker 22/05/00)
there once was a man who left
his home with a bit of regret
but when he came back
he'd left such a track
'twas a hill that was there, not a cleft
Many sox (28/05/00)
I don’t know how many
Pairs of Fred’s sox
I’ve got.
But each one talks
When I put it on
My feet. Inside my shoes.
Or I could choose
To shuffle shoeless
Around the room.
No matter which
I won’t be clueless
The travelled sox
Will thread the stitch.
My General’s generalities (29/05/00 meg barker)
There is very little general about my General
in my object and subject opinion.
May i humbly submit that
white he may be,
but shaded subtly in rosy tones
behind the ears,
between the thighs,
betwixt the lips.
Male may he be indeed,
rich grey-black curls adorn
that lively head,
the prowling cock,
those glowing nipples
on a plane of restless skin.
Flaming red, I tell you, those orbs of life
Which swell taut and sweet with kiss, with tongue.
Typical? you say, of a man who does not grab
all that he can and run with it. Predictable – not quite for
this one who knows the game but has no heart for it,
one who croons to the muse for comfort
for the feel of salty tears
the touch of grace only faintly beyond finger’s reach, behind the mind and heart
a divinity sensed but not yet grasped
too good, too dear, too grand --
for bucks, for busting ass, for breaking
a fellow man, a friend
a neighbour, that wretched girl in the street.
Give me an old white male and i’ll show you my general in shades of rose, red, blue, black and yes, white, too. Struggles of the soul are never easy and never ending and so too the bounty, brevity and brutality of life.
Homeless in my dreams (06/05/00)
Moving out
Or moving in
The fog of dreams
Sifts homeless themes
And then awake
To face my doubt
The monthly toll –
Well – maybe less –
Of packing clothes
Or stacking rows
Before the dawn
Returns my soul
“try to fly”
I’ve heard it said
It can’t hurt more
To hit the floor
With no one there
To hear the cry.
Copyright Notice © 2000 Peter Gillies and Margaret Barker
Its hard beneath the memories sky (17/05/00)
years ago my cousin Marilyn and I connected at my sister’s wedding, and I ended up with a large collection of family photos. Recently my father’s only sibling - aunt Elsie - had a serious stroke. The phone rings and family talks.
They say you are dying.
Talking about fond memories.
Pulling out the pictures
When once you were young.
?Will there be holes to fill –
Or ?does the grass just grow over
And the shrubs flesh out -
Beneath the memory’s sky.
Its hard to say goodbye.
My present life seems meaningless to you.
But you tied up some ends last time
With tales of my 3 year old goldie locked dad.
That’s how you’ll live
Caught with oxygen (25/07/00)
Sister Linda again keeps me close with family tales
This time its living
You’re reporting on.
Dad’s sister looking way back –
“I can’t believe they put those
ribbons in my hair. Heh –
I can’t believe
they called me Elsie.”
She had your eye
And ear –
“I’m sitting as still as I can” –
and daughter Marilyn’s familiar jabs.
A Stratford weekend.
You felt the importance
of leaving Ernest early.
?Was it like 25 years ago
when sandra and i and uncle jack
watched paul henderson
puck the Russians.
But there I go again.
“hello I’m back
It’s Elsie” she petitions
The nursing home staff
With a laugh
As you drop her off
And say goodbye
?Whose coming next -
“It’ll be Susan – she has no money”
and hence requires no time to make it.
Well - I want to see you too
To talk again of things you knew
And didn’t.
Like the one catch in the invitation
To share nice nursing home digs
With an old friend -
“She came with oxygen.”
Challenging the assumptions (16/05/00)
Written in the time of Cognitive Therapy. To be told as a story – a little urgency creeping in until just before the end
Last night Alexa gave me a vegetable peeler -
A quick gift while dropping her at mom’s
And when I left up came the big wave of fears.
I can hardly name them.
“But try”
“I don’t give her enough (love)”.
“I won’t be giving her anything if I move away.”
See how big it gets.
You should feel the heartbeat.
I’m learning to question those voices.
Not shut them out
Hear the message.
Not my innuendo.
I’m starting to explore their foundation
“what is enough?”
“She may be getting what she wants”
“I really enjoy finding the connection –
Tonight’s taekwando lessons
Got me spinning and kicking”
“I may move away for a while”
“I won’t lose touch.”
“I’ll be giving, and receiving”
“I’ll be creating new contexts for her”
(Deep breath. Hold it. Slowly …)
It’s a truer pulse now.
I’m able to feel and reason
To peel the vegetables in season.
In my 20’s (07/05/00)
On the advice of my doctor I bought "Feeling Good - the new mood therapy" and with the help of the Burns Depression Checklist was quickly able to put myself pretty accurately between 0 (no problem) and 100 (extremely depressed).
22 pushing 25
which is the line
between mild and
moderate depression.
“Pretty intense suffering”
defines the latter
which is what I felt
so don’t mince words.
“thoughts of suicide” but
no plans to harm myself nor
desire to end it all
is commonly observed.
I’m on my way to
“Feeling Good”
Looking for a 10 -
Or under.
Not the way we are now (29/04/00)
The map of a thriving Equilibrio
Looks very foreign
Discipline, deadlines,
Urgencies loom.
The road is long and winding
And not for us the way
We are now.
?Can we go there
Let’s devise a fair test
That won’t kill or break us.
We’ll know we’ve arrived
When our ideas excite
And enough dollars flow -
Some to feed us
Some for place we don’t yet know
Prone to quiet fears (29/04/00)
Not trusting us
Is you and me.
And also
Each alone.
We bring our fears
To quiet feed
And marvel
How they’ve grown
Without a chance
to own the faults
To which we
might be prone
Hypothetically no fences (08/05/00)
Tonite I want to fill
Your eager to please mouth
That tongue which
Loves to tease
With hypothesis’
and references.
Those lips that toss
Seductive airs
With questionnaires
And inferences
That throat that drinks
My creation
With elation
and suspenses.
That smile which
Holds my rapture.
Like a pasture
With no fences.
Patient Tongue (09/05/00)
I like to wait.
And talk about it
In anticipation.
I savour speculation
Along the lonesome lines
Of your lithe back.
I want to wonder
Around those not quite
Bottecelli hips.
To inquire tonguing
Between ripe buttocks
Your tight bud is eager
To be talked open.
But I like to wait.
Taste some (11/05/00)
I own your pussy
When I lift the short skirt
To admire your tight belly
And slick mound.
Turn slowly
Legs slightly spread
Tight thighs kissing
Your savoury bush.
Spread a little more
Eager clit offering
To my firm hand.
Lip teasing
Getting you hot
And wanting to taste some.
Slurp at my
Wet cunt fingers.
Come to me -
I cannot worship your hole
From afar.
Space to put them on (18/05/00)
You need more space.
You need more time
To lie naked before me.
Tense ready waiting
On hands to
Draw out the lion -
To tame the edge.
But not release it -
Pose it a as a question
You are eager to explore
A soft instruction - “I
Like the skimpy blue frills” -
So put them on.
Give yourself some space …
And time before
You lie naked before me.
Talk of something softer (22/05/00)
Let the images come.
In her soon to be purchased collar –
Fucking her hot eager mouth –
One of those sexy nities pulled up over her hips –
My cock enjoying her tight little hole.
Lust
Power
My pleasure
Our phone sex yesterday gave
something softer –
To take the blood urgency our of my dick
And brain.
Gentle kisses.
Slow caress.
Back off – enjoy the lines. The muscles.
The quiet beauty. The peace.
Resist the urge to put my tongue in.
Struggle.
Seen counting beans (16/05/00)
Larry and I had coffee last week. Slouched in my favourite Turk’s couch I remarked on the painting on the opposite wall – “that’s Ralph, in 20 years.” Today I notice a painting of Ralph, the one I know, counting beads. And then I saw Ralph.
Ralph counting beads
Painted on a square foot
Rests atop my Turk’s table
A thoughtful moment captured by
“james”
Interpreted for the world
Of surprised friends.
Maybe a curious stranger
Will share the karma.
Fast Confession (18/05/00)
I cannot refuse to use –
To treat myself to a few
More hours to cruise
My brain – align it
With the slinking in
Porn/chat/tell
Buy/sell
Of 13.4M Canadians
Online
Or just be
Alone in song
Or spoken mind
Or splattered down
For others to find
And Szing along.
Model without (22/05/00)
?Can I do without
And enjoy it
Perhaps I’ll be the bottom for a while
Focus on her pleasure
Give not get.
Hard to stay cool at that.
Or how about the ascetic –
A sensory examination of depravation.
That gets close to it –
my mind is constantly reflecting
on “not having it”.
I could try the inspired
Artist, businessperson, parent –
Fill to the brim with responsibilities, lists, goals.
Discipline seem to be lacking.
Or how about the eunuch –
Find some way to turn it off.
Extend the functionality
Of the shut off valve vasectomy.
Left on the hill (meg barker 22/05/00)
there once was a man who left
his home with a bit of regret
but when he came back
he'd left such a track
'twas a hill that was there, not a cleft
Many sox (28/05/00)
I don’t know how many
Pairs of Fred’s sox
I’ve got.
But each one talks
When I put it on
My feet. Inside my shoes.
Or I could choose
To shuffle shoeless
Around the room.
No matter which
I won’t be clueless
The travelled sox
Will thread the stitch.
My General’s generalities (29/05/00 meg barker)
There is very little general about my General
in my object and subject opinion.
May i humbly submit that
white he may be,
but shaded subtly in rosy tones
behind the ears,
between the thighs,
betwixt the lips.
Male may he be indeed,
rich grey-black curls adorn
that lively head,
the prowling cock,
those glowing nipples
on a plane of restless skin.
Flaming red, I tell you, those orbs of life
Which swell taut and sweet with kiss, with tongue.
Typical? you say, of a man who does not grab
all that he can and run with it. Predictable – not quite for
this one who knows the game but has no heart for it,
one who croons to the muse for comfort
for the feel of salty tears
the touch of grace only faintly beyond finger’s reach, behind the mind and heart
a divinity sensed but not yet grasped
too good, too dear, too grand --
for bucks, for busting ass, for breaking
a fellow man, a friend
a neighbour, that wretched girl in the street.
Give me an old white male and i’ll show you my general in shades of rose, red, blue, black and yes, white, too. Struggles of the soul are never easy and never ending and so too the bounty, brevity and brutality of life.
Homeless in my dreams (06/05/00)
Moving out
Or moving in
The fog of dreams
Sifts homeless themes
And then awake
To face my doubt
The monthly toll –
Well – maybe less –
Of packing clothes
Or stacking rows
Before the dawn
Returns my soul
“try to fly”
I’ve heard it said
It can’t hurt more
To hit the floor
With no one there
To hear the cry.
Copyright Notice © 2000 Peter Gillies and Margaret Barker
"There's only room for one I guess" -
winter '00
Inspiration: my uncle died - i learned so much about keeping ones eyes open for opportunites to help - thanks Fred
Kept close
(for Linney at the time of Fred's death) (12/03/00)
I wasn't there but
you kept me close
with some stories
of the talk
As he lay dying.
"Don't feel guilty if
you fall asleep
in the middle of the night
and he's gone."
I jumped with fear
every time the phone rang
and when it did
I wanted you to say
How hard he was trying.
(But he wasn't leaving)
That double bed
he loved so much
(will sure feel empty now).
Holding hands and
watching the colour disappear
they marvelled that he didn't
look like Fred anymore
And shared some crying.
He's up there now
with our other dad -
who's showing him the ropes,
and catching up.
The solutions of "Mr. St. Phillips" (18/03/00)
Uncle Fred was a problem solver respected by many folks - the congregation at St. Phillips Lutheran Church has a special appreciation for him. I was treated to many new Fred stories in the precious days after his death on March 12th 2000.
There's only room for one
I'd guess.
He set the standard -
?who'll write the test.
For problem solvers
great and small
he left some tips
for us to call.
Like "Open up the box
enough,
and pretty soon it won't be
tough"
Or "Let's get to the
point -
but not out of
joint"
It doesn't matter how
you knew him -
give him the pieces
he could glue 'em
He'll always be "Mr. St. Phillips"
to some -
with sliderule and blueprints and many tunes
to hum.
Everytime we ask "?what can I do
for you",
he'll probably smile and give us
a clue.
Reasonable Questions (20/03/00)
?What's it like to be dead
- how does one communicate.
?Are there any reasonable questions.
So try some answers
- you'll hear them often.
?Are there any you can't live with.
?Can you live without them
- where's that old wish list.
?Are there any hiding places.
You shine too brightly
- but I've no trouble sleeping.
?Are there any reasonable questions
about what its like to be dead.
Explanations at 24 below (13/01/00 mb)
throw out
toss in
add to the pile
or reduce it
explain what you mean
the audience doesn't get it
get what?
get the point
get the drift
get on board
its windy and rolling but it rocks.
I miss you (11/01/00)
loved your last laugh on the keyboard.
time to come home girl -
and don't stop prattling.
gifts (11/01/00)
loved the ginger tea.
bathed in splendor-
then snowplowed downtown.
new attitude year (03/01/00)
gotta work today
- don't have the attitude
- wanna ski
- or just be free
to cop black beans
or brew some tea
Our answer (20/01/00)
life feels hard.
softness hovers.
rain melts
the snow.
More answers (21/01/00)
Words are big.
Emotions charge.
Dawn lites
another path.
Some questions (23/01/00)
life is not simple.
questions are omnipresent.
kiss the fire
to melt the ice.
We learn (22/01/00)
Intercourse was "incredible"
With a former man.
Maybe they learned to cum
and wonder together.
She learns a lot and
When she writes it down
It's sometimes easier
To see what's true.
I like to be on top
And yet, I would submit,
That's only one of many axis'
Which connect us.
Only one of many "psychic barriers"
To freedom of expression.
Perhaps I started at the head
too young, and get my way.
We all have deadlines
To relax,
And minds to change
With poems that we inspire.
I think the world is ready
Or I am different -
Yet consistently aware
I still need to know a little more
few regrets (18/01/00)
it could be about our sex -
Both yours and mine.
Different paths to here
help to fuel a fear
of no convergence.
the emergence of an identity -
Between single and coupled
straight and gay
top and bottom.
Multiple paths to trace
help to show the face
of no prejudice.
seduced by where we are -
below cohabitation and incorporation.
Various paths to lay
help to charge the day
with no consequences.
fences may be built
beside rivers and roads.
Several paths to define
several shadows to design
several rungs to climb
help to decide the time
of no regrets.
Carelessness of the studied kind (mb 31/01/00)
"Take care…"
Words thrown, woodenly, coolly, at the bottom of the page.
"Take care…," my colleague. My client, or friend,
whoever you are, wherever you are, Guyana, Peru or somewhere.
Stiffness is not an adjective that suits you, so,
it hurts when it comes on.
Exclusion is not a noun that fits me, it is a noun that haunts,
that hovers, that waits to draw me into a deep
soundless cavern with only
ancient
wet
cold
trickles
of the same fear down my back.
"Why the demands?" of a love that expects a lot.
"Acceptance, tolerance, anti-phobias, that's what love should be."
Love, after all, is a
Social Phenomenon.
There are many ways to live:
Let us be Cool.
Love is a verb that we use to describe us.
To love:
To desire, to share, to hold, to stroke, to praise.
To kiss, to adore, to lick, to respect, to support.
To delight, to clasp, to remind, to advise, to fuck.
To feed, to rub, to enlighten. To bathe, to touch, to engage.
To be there.
To hold our world together. To argue, to debate, to
cover the rough ground two feet by two feet. To hold hands
on the perilous bridge of
frayed ropes,
broken dreams,
false promises,
youthful illusions.
To not let go.
To not exclude.
To not inspect, like a museum artifact, these quaint ideas,
these odd notions, these tantric aspirations, like queer knocks outside the door.
To be there.
To play, to cry, to explain, to share.
To confound, to whisper, to caress. In
Guyana, Peru or somewhere
Hands held on the perilous bridge (31/01/00)
lovely your words
like hands held
or lips sealed.
a now touch
a future promise
a confound whisper to caress.
A chance at 47 (31/01/00)
Finally made it to 47.
It's a long time by any math
It's a long line on any path,
And not far short of heaven.
(Where)
I've been peaceful for a while.
There's a right way to view the years
There's a right day to let the tears,
And dress them up in style.
(Though)
It's not a suit she seeks.
We are aware of pain and beauty
We are a pair of sense and duty,
And fragile when life leaks
(of which)
there always is a chance.
Qwestion (03/02/00)
"?why" is a big one -
and hard to answer.
"?what" comes from experience -
some new some old.
"?who" i use alot -
it gives me good results.
"?when" shows my impatience -
or efficiency.
there's hardly a deficiency
Goodnite (04/02/00)
income tax is done - not too big a hit.
music to come - lots of big hits -
and a bomber too.
?how are you
Expecting? (07/02/00)
ahhh phone problems
sometimes they keep the house
so nice and quite
but only if you are expecting
a call
Slow Expectations (09/02/00)
i walked home in the dark
to an empty house,
and no message
from you.
i wandered around the pages
of a needy proposal,
with no imagination
nor clue
to the whereabouts of the days
invested in a lonely heart,
with slow expectation
but true
to the wording in the places
inscripted with a curious voice,
and a laugh,
or two
reflection (05/03/00)
on A wealth of clients and colleagues -
With remarkable failings
Hence remarkable failures
Yet not evil.
A close family -
Mom margaret linney and lex
We did the five last summer
Everybody prospering
On their own terms.
Being alone - the choice to live solo
Scares me sometimes with the
Too familiar ground of
grapefruits, self sex and guitar music.
being with myself - the growing old body
no longer a friend of my youth
now a partner in practical living -
oh it feels so good
to stretch a tired muscle
and feel it warm my flesh
unfolding the past - the occasionally pushed
hot button which pulls me in
sometimes I gotta walk out
and sing real loud -
its been so long waiting
not knowing but trusting
not 100% but
with more rationale intuition -
there are facts to look at
and sow in my field of emotion.
As of this writing (06/03/00)
There is no explicit action
in the writing of this poem -
and I often change my mind
about its value, or lack of.
!That's a theme for celebration -
the back and forth,
no serial monogamy of opinion
to dig the heels in deeper.
Yet I want to get ahead -
not dollars or fame -
rather wisdom
charting new roads,
fresh puzzles, sad stories ...
?How will I tell them.
As action, valued in the
writing of this poem.
No lack of changed mind.
Small consolations (06/03/00 mb)
A new notebook,
a "Discovery" program on why
flamingos court in front of a mirror
but not in the yard
A precious poem
Extra bagels to be eaten with
No hat on the table
A thought or two.
Hardly compares with a hand in mine and thigh entwined.
Sore comfort in knowing that there are two that pine.
One that dines
Other that finds
No worthy prose in the failing night mind.
Out of the sky's reach (07/03/00)
Marvelling at how close
Your voice sounds
Could take many turns -
Your words will persuade.
Or sedate - seeming up there
Out of reach in the
Policy sky.
Where I rarely float,
Preferring the green pastures
Of your landscape song.
A potential rejection (07/03/00)
On the eve of the ratification (or not) of a new contract between the east end food co-ops union staff and management.
Tonight they vote
to accept or not
Reset the scale
to cool or hot
Just cross the 't'
and "i' the dot
Leave us wondering
why we fought
large constellation of extra bagels (07/03/00 mb)
lovely timing, this one, this morning,
fell square on the brewing-brooding space between
four satellites, sight and sound tuned to the air
listening intently for a new whisper
trace of a perception
crystal thought that lands crisply and
oh so BRIGHT!
Tune, tune
soon
to
come my dear your ear to hear
something clear.
Some end of the day (23/03/00)
day finally over -
seemed awefully long
but well lived.
crossed many paths
and blazed a few -
to some end.
Desexing (04/04/00)
I had a heart attack today
An explosive pain of longing
For some particular sex.
I have been seeing it everywhere
And wanting it distractedly.
I want to change the metaphor -
See the couples as laughter or pain
The pretty people as smiles.
I could turn off the media
I could make you a saint
And chill my blood with ice.
Or let it cool alone -
With open eyes
and your kisses across the wire
gently stirring my love.
Aroused by duty (mb 03/03/00)
Opaque chill envelopes the morning, a pall in the half-light. Damp, thick
blanket obscures the emergent sky. But not for long. With it's chisel of
blaze and blade, sun creeps up from the East and peels, steadfastly,
determinedly, confidently at the grey armour, aroused by duty, by earth, by
the hard buds patiently waiting for life to begin.
?Where's the pleasure coming from (05/04/00)
We talked about shopping
Sexy underwear for you.
?How can i keep that image rich
without being driven to distraction.
Let it titillate and warm
Without my cock needing attention…
Keep the erotica in my head.
I want to be desired
For the moment, and then some.
?When will I stroke it
and decipher the connection
Set its weight between your checks
Without unnecessary introspection.
Reap the memory in its stead…
Your hands are so seductive
In their inquiry, asking
?What are we waiting for
there's no apparent confusion.
Wet it later on your lips
Without my spark tracing the illusion
Weep the distance we must tread.
Try the deep breath -
Clear a little space.
?Where's the pleasure coming from
with requires my reflection.
Bet it straight and narrow
Without further arbitration.
Sleep the image in my bed…
Challenging the keeper (05/04/00)
One of the challenges I love
Is figuring out
Where a good first verse
Should go…
And how to keep it suspenseful
Then something unfolds
Not as strong
Still directionless
But definitely a keeper.
The beginning of a poem
It starts to roll
With rules unfolding
In whose adhering
The reader goes
Not at all reassured
Of imminent repose
Et puis
Un poeme
The order of the verses
not so composed -
solved the problem
of finding the ending
Copyright Notice © 2000 Peter Gillies and Margaret Barker
Kept close
(for Linney at the time of Fred's death) (12/03/00)
I wasn't there but
you kept me close
with some stories
of the talk
As he lay dying.
"Don't feel guilty if
you fall asleep
in the middle of the night
and he's gone."
I jumped with fear
every time the phone rang
and when it did
I wanted you to say
How hard he was trying.
(But he wasn't leaving)
That double bed
he loved so much
(will sure feel empty now).
Holding hands and
watching the colour disappear
they marvelled that he didn't
look like Fred anymore
And shared some crying.
He's up there now
with our other dad -
who's showing him the ropes,
and catching up.
The solutions of "Mr. St. Phillips" (18/03/00)
Uncle Fred was a problem solver respected by many folks - the congregation at St. Phillips Lutheran Church has a special appreciation for him. I was treated to many new Fred stories in the precious days after his death on March 12th 2000.
There's only room for one
I'd guess.
He set the standard -
?who'll write the test.
For problem solvers
great and small
he left some tips
for us to call.
Like "Open up the box
enough,
and pretty soon it won't be
tough"
Or "Let's get to the
point -
but not out of
joint"
It doesn't matter how
you knew him -
give him the pieces
he could glue 'em
He'll always be "Mr. St. Phillips"
to some -
with sliderule and blueprints and many tunes
to hum.
Everytime we ask "?what can I do
for you",
he'll probably smile and give us
a clue.
Reasonable Questions (20/03/00)
?What's it like to be dead
- how does one communicate.
?Are there any reasonable questions.
So try some answers
- you'll hear them often.
?Are there any you can't live with.
?Can you live without them
- where's that old wish list.
?Are there any hiding places.
You shine too brightly
- but I've no trouble sleeping.
?Are there any reasonable questions
about what its like to be dead.
Explanations at 24 below (13/01/00 mb)
throw out
toss in
add to the pile
or reduce it
explain what you mean
the audience doesn't get it
get what?
get the point
get the drift
get on board
its windy and rolling but it rocks.
I miss you (11/01/00)
loved your last laugh on the keyboard.
time to come home girl -
and don't stop prattling.
gifts (11/01/00)
loved the ginger tea.
bathed in splendor-
then snowplowed downtown.
new attitude year (03/01/00)
gotta work today
- don't have the attitude
- wanna ski
- or just be free
to cop black beans
or brew some tea
Our answer (20/01/00)
life feels hard.
softness hovers.
rain melts
the snow.
More answers (21/01/00)
Words are big.
Emotions charge.
Dawn lites
another path.
Some questions (23/01/00)
life is not simple.
questions are omnipresent.
kiss the fire
to melt the ice.
We learn (22/01/00)
Intercourse was "incredible"
With a former man.
Maybe they learned to cum
and wonder together.
She learns a lot and
When she writes it down
It's sometimes easier
To see what's true.
I like to be on top
And yet, I would submit,
That's only one of many axis'
Which connect us.
Only one of many "psychic barriers"
To freedom of expression.
Perhaps I started at the head
too young, and get my way.
We all have deadlines
To relax,
And minds to change
With poems that we inspire.
I think the world is ready
Or I am different -
Yet consistently aware
I still need to know a little more
few regrets (18/01/00)
it could be about our sex -
Both yours and mine.
Different paths to here
help to fuel a fear
of no convergence.
the emergence of an identity -
Between single and coupled
straight and gay
top and bottom.
Multiple paths to trace
help to show the face
of no prejudice.
seduced by where we are -
below cohabitation and incorporation.
Various paths to lay
help to charge the day
with no consequences.
fences may be built
beside rivers and roads.
Several paths to define
several shadows to design
several rungs to climb
help to decide the time
of no regrets.
Carelessness of the studied kind (mb 31/01/00)
"Take care…"
Words thrown, woodenly, coolly, at the bottom of the page.
"Take care…," my colleague. My client, or friend,
whoever you are, wherever you are, Guyana, Peru or somewhere.
Stiffness is not an adjective that suits you, so,
it hurts when it comes on.
Exclusion is not a noun that fits me, it is a noun that haunts,
that hovers, that waits to draw me into a deep
soundless cavern with only
ancient
wet
cold
trickles
of the same fear down my back.
"Why the demands?" of a love that expects a lot.
"Acceptance, tolerance, anti-phobias, that's what love should be."
Love, after all, is a
Social Phenomenon.
There are many ways to live:
Let us be Cool.
Love is a verb that we use to describe us.
To love:
To desire, to share, to hold, to stroke, to praise.
To kiss, to adore, to lick, to respect, to support.
To delight, to clasp, to remind, to advise, to fuck.
To feed, to rub, to enlighten. To bathe, to touch, to engage.
To be there.
To hold our world together. To argue, to debate, to
cover the rough ground two feet by two feet. To hold hands
on the perilous bridge of
frayed ropes,
broken dreams,
false promises,
youthful illusions.
To not let go.
To not exclude.
To not inspect, like a museum artifact, these quaint ideas,
these odd notions, these tantric aspirations, like queer knocks outside the door.
To be there.
To play, to cry, to explain, to share.
To confound, to whisper, to caress. In
Guyana, Peru or somewhere
Hands held on the perilous bridge (31/01/00)
lovely your words
like hands held
or lips sealed.
a now touch
a future promise
a confound whisper to caress.
A chance at 47 (31/01/00)
Finally made it to 47.
It's a long time by any math
It's a long line on any path,
And not far short of heaven.
(Where)
I've been peaceful for a while.
There's a right way to view the years
There's a right day to let the tears,
And dress them up in style.
(Though)
It's not a suit she seeks.
We are aware of pain and beauty
We are a pair of sense and duty,
And fragile when life leaks
(of which)
there always is a chance.
Qwestion (03/02/00)
"?why" is a big one -
and hard to answer.
"?what" comes from experience -
some new some old.
"?who" i use alot -
it gives me good results.
"?when" shows my impatience -
or efficiency.
there's hardly a deficiency
Goodnite (04/02/00)
income tax is done - not too big a hit.
music to come - lots of big hits -
and a bomber too.
?how are you
Expecting? (07/02/00)
ahhh phone problems
sometimes they keep the house
so nice and quite
but only if you are expecting
a call
Slow Expectations (09/02/00)
i walked home in the dark
to an empty house,
and no message
from you.
i wandered around the pages
of a needy proposal,
with no imagination
nor clue
to the whereabouts of the days
invested in a lonely heart,
with slow expectation
but true
to the wording in the places
inscripted with a curious voice,
and a laugh,
or two
reflection (05/03/00)
on A wealth of clients and colleagues -
With remarkable failings
Hence remarkable failures
Yet not evil.
A close family -
Mom margaret linney and lex
We did the five last summer
Everybody prospering
On their own terms.
Being alone - the choice to live solo
Scares me sometimes with the
Too familiar ground of
grapefruits, self sex and guitar music.
being with myself - the growing old body
no longer a friend of my youth
now a partner in practical living -
oh it feels so good
to stretch a tired muscle
and feel it warm my flesh
unfolding the past - the occasionally pushed
hot button which pulls me in
sometimes I gotta walk out
and sing real loud -
its been so long waiting
not knowing but trusting
not 100% but
with more rationale intuition -
there are facts to look at
and sow in my field of emotion.
As of this writing (06/03/00)
There is no explicit action
in the writing of this poem -
and I often change my mind
about its value, or lack of.
!That's a theme for celebration -
the back and forth,
no serial monogamy of opinion
to dig the heels in deeper.
Yet I want to get ahead -
not dollars or fame -
rather wisdom
charting new roads,
fresh puzzles, sad stories ...
?How will I tell them.
As action, valued in the
writing of this poem.
No lack of changed mind.
Small consolations (06/03/00 mb)
A new notebook,
a "Discovery" program on why
flamingos court in front of a mirror
but not in the yard
A precious poem
Extra bagels to be eaten with
No hat on the table
A thought or two.
Hardly compares with a hand in mine and thigh entwined.
Sore comfort in knowing that there are two that pine.
One that dines
Other that finds
No worthy prose in the failing night mind.
Out of the sky's reach (07/03/00)
Marvelling at how close
Your voice sounds
Could take many turns -
Your words will persuade.
Or sedate - seeming up there
Out of reach in the
Policy sky.
Where I rarely float,
Preferring the green pastures
Of your landscape song.
A potential rejection (07/03/00)
On the eve of the ratification (or not) of a new contract between the east end food co-ops union staff and management.
Tonight they vote
to accept or not
Reset the scale
to cool or hot
Just cross the 't'
and "i' the dot
Leave us wondering
why we fought
large constellation of extra bagels (07/03/00 mb)
lovely timing, this one, this morning,
fell square on the brewing-brooding space between
four satellites, sight and sound tuned to the air
listening intently for a new whisper
trace of a perception
crystal thought that lands crisply and
oh so BRIGHT!
Tune, tune
soon
to
come my dear your ear to hear
something clear.
Some end of the day (23/03/00)
day finally over -
seemed awefully long
but well lived.
crossed many paths
and blazed a few -
to some end.
Desexing (04/04/00)
I had a heart attack today
An explosive pain of longing
For some particular sex.
I have been seeing it everywhere
And wanting it distractedly.
I want to change the metaphor -
See the couples as laughter or pain
The pretty people as smiles.
I could turn off the media
I could make you a saint
And chill my blood with ice.
Or let it cool alone -
With open eyes
and your kisses across the wire
gently stirring my love.
Aroused by duty (mb 03/03/00)
Opaque chill envelopes the morning, a pall in the half-light. Damp, thick
blanket obscures the emergent sky. But not for long. With it's chisel of
blaze and blade, sun creeps up from the East and peels, steadfastly,
determinedly, confidently at the grey armour, aroused by duty, by earth, by
the hard buds patiently waiting for life to begin.
?Where's the pleasure coming from (05/04/00)
We talked about shopping
Sexy underwear for you.
?How can i keep that image rich
without being driven to distraction.
Let it titillate and warm
Without my cock needing attention…
Keep the erotica in my head.
I want to be desired
For the moment, and then some.
?When will I stroke it
and decipher the connection
Set its weight between your checks
Without unnecessary introspection.
Reap the memory in its stead…
Your hands are so seductive
In their inquiry, asking
?What are we waiting for
there's no apparent confusion.
Wet it later on your lips
Without my spark tracing the illusion
Weep the distance we must tread.
Try the deep breath -
Clear a little space.
?Where's the pleasure coming from
with requires my reflection.
Bet it straight and narrow
Without further arbitration.
Sleep the image in my bed…
Challenging the keeper (05/04/00)
One of the challenges I love
Is figuring out
Where a good first verse
Should go…
And how to keep it suspenseful
Then something unfolds
Not as strong
Still directionless
But definitely a keeper.
The beginning of a poem
It starts to roll
With rules unfolding
In whose adhering
The reader goes
Not at all reassured
Of imminent repose
Et puis
Un poeme
The order of the verses
not so composed -
solved the problem
of finding the ending
Copyright Notice © 2000 Peter Gillies and Margaret Barker
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