Thursday August 10, 2017
The Lonely Planet Bali and Lombok
I scooped up the sea in my hand and drank at the thought of you.
“I wish you were here” might be carved into my belly.
Yesterday, the croon of the waves kissed my shoulder blade the way you used to. It’s nice to be touched by your memory when you are far away. I gave my salt right back to the source. We laughed a little at the impermanence of things that never belonged to us in the first place. our dreams, on loan from the sky and the breeze and the gentle hereafter.
Tuesday November 29, 2016
I lick my finger and it tastes of a chicken bouillon cube.
I love it.
I used to eat pieces of those by themselves when I was younger. Along with anchovies from the jar, and mayonnaise.
I had no vehicle carrying condiments to my mouth.
I wasted no such time.
I always cut out the middle spoon.
I think of big pots simmering on the stove.
I believe I could stay with someone if they knew how to make something out of nothing.
If they knew about sauces and simmering.
I would marry that.
I am very extreme about bouillon cubes.
I am tethered.
Some memories stick like sugar to a strawberry.
Friday, April 8, 2016
from the Real Salt shaker
I’ve been digging for the salt of the earth
Salt of my mother’s womb
Salt of rebirth
Where did all the good go?
The salty salty good go?
I know where to look but how deep do I go?
How far below?
Can I borrow some then give it back?
When I need a snack?
When I need to bleed the earth’s tears?
I don’t need a lot I just want a taste
To remind me of what I lost
To remind me of what I need inside and what’s worth risking
I promise I’ll return it
Along with my first born and first song
All the stuff worth trading for
Give me that diamond salt sparkling light
Give me that freedom first that cause for thirst
Digging for the true salt of the earth
Sunday March 29, 2015
A TIFF kids TTC ad
When you care for me it’s like a wave crashing
Salt on my cheeks
Hair a little bit wet and a little bit greasy
The sound is gentler though
Water in the morning
A bit more still
I say “sorry” because you don’t want me to say “thank you”
because I need to say something
because it’s hard to just accept this unconditional love
Tempting me towards awkward paranoia
Leading me down sand dunes that are riddled with
black socks with holes in the toes
I want to cling to you like a barnacle
my desire calcifying on your chest
I want to swim next to your freedom like a dolphin
My fingers grazing the possibility of your soft wet skin