Read Me Here!

Check out Breadcrumb Scabs Issue 7 for three poems by yours truly!

There are of course bunches of other fab poems & poets to be discovered inside.

You can download it free, but the hard copy's a hot addition to any shelf, so don't hesitate to shell out the duckets and support poetic dreams.

http://www.breadcrumbscabs.com/

How Do YOU Feel?

Over the weekend, I discovered a wonderful website called We Feel Fine.

The program used by this website scans blog posts constantly, searching specifically for the words "feel" or "feels". It then pulls that sentence along with any associated pics, and grabs all the info it can: age, sex, place, and even weather. As much as it seems a bit 1984, what it allows you to do is search through feelings worldwide, from as recently as a few hours ago. It uses a variety of displays to make it fun and interactive, and oddly compelling. You can even click on any given quote to visit that person's blog if you're interested.

What are people in Montreal feeling right now? What is the prevalent feeling worldwide today? You can search by feelings themselves, opening doors to real people and how they're feeling blessed, beautiful, or inspired. It's a unique way to connect at a heart level with strangers, to remind us how connected we always really are. It made me think of how many people ask how we feel , what we're thinking, and how often we shrug this off with small and defensive answers.

Twenty-five minutes ago, a 23 year old from Warwick, NY, posted "I love the feeling of inhaling cold air conditioned air", even though it seems it was cloudy when they posted. I would gladly take that information in the place of so many of the worn things we tell one another.

In our society of diminished emotional bonds and increased superficiality, it seems a blessing to have access to these moments of intimacy, as much as it is wonderful to know that these feelings have been shared, and are not sitting stagnant and ignored. As a result, the boundaries between "you" and "I" seem lesser today, and I am relieved to know that four hours ago, someone, somewhere, was "feeling better about myself".

The Deaths of Rats

Dying

he buried himself and waited.

Unlike the others who died

one quietly nursing surgery scars

one who tried to outrun it and was found on the living room floor come morning

left to rest in peace by 2 suddenly solemn cats holding vigil in their eyes

or the myriad who did not return from the small animal hospital.

This rat

named for a notoriously local poet gone global and quickly aging who can still make young women breathless from a distance
displayed his understanding of circumstance
and knowing that his next stop was a trash can in the winter cold of an apartment building basement garage
he dug himself in under wood chips and bedding holding onto his head which must have been aching right then like the white lightening pain that takes your breath away
and waited to go back to earth
watched as they came for him
these spectres of well loved rodents who ate out of hands and snuggled into shirt sleeves
a guinea pig gone less than 2 weeks before.

The rat was curled up with him
like a lover perched on the losing end
trying to stave off time.

Now his turn
and alone
he buried himself so that when we woke up
it seemed as though
he was already gone
because
he was.

Essence

She was the presence of a woman and he was the concept of a man

in fantasies and dreamscapes they fulfilled the faceless roles of love

in explosions of tears and delight they held each other

even as their paint washed away

their colours and textures swirling and singing and melting into rainwater

dirty but proud

a mighty river flowing through the gutter

waxing romantical

silly girl daydreams, more cornball than porno

read an email a friend got from a woman who wants him desperately

it was filled with dense & disconnected metaphor, praise, and self depreciating blah blah blahs

I think I may be a cliche...

Pickup

A redneck in a pickup truck
with a cracked windshield
and a pit-bull hanging his head out of the passenger's side
revved his engine at me today
and I swung my hips despite myself.

Dream of You

When I dream of you now
which is with increasing frequency
we are quiet
and it feels like home.

In your last appearance
you wore an Expos cap
slick and new with a shiny vinyl emblem
trendy in town years after the team's demise
and I was content to fall asleep
with my head on your shoulder.

Scene

Exhaling smoke into the sudden rain

she leans against the door frame

at the end of a too hot day

a desperate black and white heroine

made all the more gritty by flesh and colour.

Triplicate

She wrote her songs
in triplicate always.

One she said was for her,
one was for others,
and the last she buried.

In soil
or snow
depending.

She said this one was for God,
and that she was afraid
that if she did not give thanks

did not pay proper tribute
her words would leave her,
as people tended to do.

Big Thanks

Thanks again to the Anonymous reader who suggested I check out some Buddy Wakefield, Taylor Mali, and Sage Francis. I'd never heard of these guys, which just goes to show how much quality stuff is out there that I have no idea about.

YouTube has Wakefield and Mali, and the Sage Francis tunes I've been able to get my hands on have made it to my MP3 player for daily rotation. I strongly suggest "Cafe Girl" & "Got Up This Morning". Both are worth it even if you just Google the lyrics. He does what I want rap to be, which is really tight poetry with cool beats. I know that's not for everyone, so please, no hate mail if you like your rap done MTV styles.

If anyone else in internet land has any suggestions of writers, artists, fun stuff in general that may be of interest, please leave a comment and let me know! That's how people find the treasures you know, and really, we are all in this together.

Dawn