How much of me is my body? (Braindump Poem #3)


He looked like a superhero

without the mask,

all white and stony stern

with a whip in his eyes.

He held me but he

wouldn’t know

how I kissed the secret

on his flesh: cwtch.

I could hide in his shirt’s long shadow

unzip my crusted eyes

with the gag of his scent

silencing my skin.


How much of me is my body?


Something new, electric

buzzed to life as synapses

kissed. Eureka!

moaned the monster

at the mirror.

I could become

the paint that rings around

the eye,

the spokes that peer out from

the heart,

the dye that bleeds on

the bathroom floor.


How much of me is my body?



It latched like a

small child would,

rode the world on

my spinal cord,

giggling with its

teeth like hands

clutching my eyes.

I could melt away

with that moment,

seep into the cracks

of the rocking earth

under my empty shoes.


How much of me is my body?


And here we have

enshrined a blob

in a blobbier container.

Its goopy transcendence

can teach and mend us

like all sound-wounds can.

I could condemn my eyes

to sentences, dislocate

them, roll them like dung

balls into someone

else’s skull, warm them

‘til they fall apart like questions.


How much

of me is

my body?

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Club (Braindump Poem #2)


The faltering beads of sweat sway

As strong arms in unison play

As smog sways up to greet the sky

Money buzzes through mouth and eye


Thin and dry


The conveyor belt looks up high

To see the hands that fashion

This artifice of sweat and light

This paranoia pulsion

This clash

Of need and might


Push piston! Crash and lock!

Let the model meet the maker!

Raise your hand! Fire your gun!

Grab all that you are and run!

Strong arms sunder! Tear the cloth!

Smear the make-up! End the sloth!

Scream we are we are we are we are

“we are we are we are we are”

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101 (Braindump Poem #1)

(Read the full version here)


I don’t understand;

it’s not like the movies


(eyes meet hearts beat turn feet hey!

i just… i just wanted

to tell you

you look beautiful today).


Eyes meet heart beats heads down hmm…

1)   No kids or girlfriend

(that’s a good start)

2)   How far are we now from Queen Street?

(apt name that. ha.)

3)   That jumper… maybe?

(yeah but, the current fashion…)

4)   And that stubble’s honed down

(i agree, a little too precisely. but then again…)


And that isn’t even starting

to touch

on the bigger questions, like

Isn’t there enough

of love, enough

to fill the gaping

wounds like salt?


And when I look back up

the movie in my mouth has

bombed in my box office brain.

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