January 23, 2009


I was inspired to this one after watching the opening to The Usual Suspects not too long ago. Also, by a poem I wrote called Citylights, in the style of my father-in-law, the people’s poet James Deahl. I used to ride my bike to my 12 am – 2 am radio show, Saturn’s Rings, at a local university, and to get there I’d bike around the Hamilton harbour, and Cootes’ Paradise. It was in this way that I first saw the crazy visual effect of what appeared to be vast, descending walls of light, stretching bottomlessly into a faux-chasm, but were actually just streams of reflected light from the trail-posts across the harbour.


across the harbour

make Van Gogh’s
yellow icicles

dance and shiver
down laps of liquid glass

like drooping gold necklaces tempered
in the hands of black fire

the deep walls
of a never-carved chasm

city of lights



January 22, 2009

I meant to include this piece with the Convergence garden, but I don’t know. It just didn’t feel right. But I got this awesome reply from someone more in the know than myself which prompted me to include it in the blog reel. Just to show that it does mean something to me, gashdurnit!



When God goes under their microscopes,

and Nirvana comes back from the lab in a pill,


Hades, describe this to me, what was it like

between their lenses, focused to absent perfection?


I’ve seen no saviour, felt no Father’s touch,

so I’m pleading with you, Hades, describe this to me,


what was it like to watch your wrists disappear,

the sweat on your labour-soaked hands sucked into the sun?