Wednesday, January 30, 2013

a very innocent poem

for Crystal

peaked blooms of aerated cream
flower lush upon the smooth delicacy below --
Your pink flickering tongue laps kittenishly,
warm and wet,
and licks a crumb from your soft, sugar-coated lips
and your teeth like candied chalk
which nibble and bite
part with the sour-sweet pleasure
in spooning up the five-minute morning sin that is
buttercream and lemon


This is a very innocent poem. It is about a lovely lemon buttercream cake, quite possibly the best cake I ever ate, that my dear friend Crystal made. She is very talented. One day she will be the top pastry chef in a fancy patisserie, which is good because I will no doubt be a poor (or poor-ish, at the least) musician who can't afford expensive cakes... unless I have a very close friend who was in on the dessert business. Lucky me!

Anyhow. Such a good cake! Oh my goodness. So tempting, so irresistible - not that I tried to resist. It was a cake that demanded a seductive poem. But really. This is a very innocent poem. If you don't think so you should have read the original version. This is the edited and censored final edition. As my other dear friend Howard says, art shouldn't be censored, but... even I wouldn't have felt comfortable posting the original un-censored draft.

Saturday, January 26, 2013

another love letter... a stranger on the bus. I write too many of these, although I've never posted one here before. Sometimes when I see someone on the bus or on the street and they have that je-ne-sais-quoi... charisma, I suppose, and I can't resist writing something. I'd like to meet these people in real life, talk to them, but at the same time not really because I'd be afraid of being awkward. I'd prefer to just be awkward on paper. Maybe one day I'll be brave enough to write one of these and actually give it to the person. I wouldn't have to talk to them but... it would be a start. What would you feel if someone came up to you as they were getting off the bus and left you a love letter like this? Wouldn't you feel flattered and happy that someone would think of you that way? I would. Or maybe you'd feel creeped out that someone was watching you the whole time. It would depend on the style of writing, I suppose.

This is not very good, I think, but I like it somehow. I guess I'm just a creepy people-watcher.

to a cutie I never knew (this would go on the front of the folded-up paper if I ever went through with it)

Cute blond boy on the bus with brushed hair and
kind eyebrows,
You seem so humble with your canvas jacket the colour of yellowing summer grasses
And your sky-gray scarf and worn-looking backpack.

Your expression so soft and gentle,
I want to ask you out for coffee.
But I am scared -
You seem so sweet that I am afraid you'll be uninterested,
or that you're already seeing someone.
And plus I'm a wimp
And this is my stop

Stepping off the crowded downtown bus
onto a gray and puddly street,
I look back wistfully.
Goodbye, cute boy I never knew.

Monday, January 21, 2013

flower toast and a tall tale

I spent Friday afternoon surfing the internet and looking at food and craft ideas. So this was my breakfast on Saturday morning. Took way too long to make, I definitely need to practice making this. If it weren't for my incredibly competitive perfectionist nature I would have given up after the first like... 4 attempts.

Oh well. Since I seem to have an aversion to cooking anything other than eggs, rice and dessert, this will be something to add to my repertoire.

Other than that I have a very interesting story for today. It almost sounds like a tall tale, it's so interesting. But I assure you it is true.

Saturday, January 19, 2013


"stars like salt crystals scattered across black asphalt"

I was walking outside one night last weekend and, lucky me, for once it wasn't raining. It was pretty near freezing though, and as I hurried along the sidewalk with my shivering elbows tucked in as close as I could, I looked up and I looked down and that's what I saw.

I like the feel of the words in my mouth, especially "asphalt". Such lovely consonants. Not sure if this will end up in a poem or something else yet. We'll see.

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

prompt from Andrea Hoff - senses

a musty smell of old crumbs
cloys the dim-lit room,
having sunk itself into the stained carpet that peels away to reveal the
yellow linoleum below,
and having leeched into the plaster walls white as day-old snow
and stagnant air

the comforting, peeling scent of cracked old libraries honeyed with age

the light flickers reassuringly as I enter and
breath in
( inhale )

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

a scarf and a submission to New Shoots

island winter
we are smothered     cradled in

rainforest snow
     , drips,

Sleep through the icy clouds of dreams -
The snow calls forth nightmares and yearnings which grow hot in our hearts.
We eat and
cinnamon twigs

Cling to one another and air the embers.

the world cries and flutters and straightens itself
in winter
we live

seafoam snow, bright as magic

I hold in my hand a ring of diamonds that leaves me cold and poor,
So I wrap myself more tightly
and disappear into the melting peace.


This is a poem for cold weather that I submitted to the New Shoots publication. Snow makes me feel so good, don't you think so too? Too bad we almost never have it in Vancouver. What is the point of it being so cold if it doesn't snow?

I suppose it gives me an excuse to knit. I finished this circle scarf/cowl thing on Christmas eve, well technically Christmas day since it was past midnight, after being sick for a few days and having no energy to do anything except read, watch movies and knit.

Here is my beautiful scarf modeled by my beautiful cat. His name is Pasha. I think it suits him, no? He looks very glamourous. Like a cat movie star.


Tuesday, January 8, 2013

another year...

My New Year's resolution is a bit of a misnomer because I made it this afternoon. This year I resolve to post more often on this blog. So watch out world..... here I come........

Starting tomorrow. 'Cause tonight I have to study The Picture of Dorian Gray.