re: new pomes.

hello friends, fans, foe and lovers,

here are a couple new pomes. haven't been writing much lately, been pursuing other creative activities, and i suspect my brain can only accommodate so many things at once. getting a bit older you know?

anyways, here they are, enjoy my lovelies.

The skeetch Indian:

On the public transit heading

Downtown

I meet an Indian dude

Who tells me he’s heading

To the oil rigs soon

As he just passed the

Physical and drug tests

Even though he ripped a couple

Big fat rails a couple days before

The tests

And he told me about smoking crack

And how it never got it’s claws

Into him

Which made me think of scabby

And that girl I wrote about

A long time ago

And how I recently saw them both

Scabby looked the same

On and off the rock and heroin

The girl look good

Healthy and happy

Glowing even as she picked up groceries

Where I most recently saw her

And as the bus weaved through town

Me and the Skeetch NDN

We talked about work

And how much

We both hated this town

And how there was no money here

And this was a place where people came to die

And then he was gone

Off the bus

And I was staring out the window

At the grey skies

Wondering what I was going to do next

With my life.

A pipeline to god:

In every needle

In every crack pipe

In every bottle

In every cigarette

In every city

There is a pipeline to god.

At least

That’s what they think

And that’s why

They keep chasing it

Down every city street

Every dark alley

Every whorehouse

And dime bag

Again and again

I don’t know if it’s addiction

Or malnutrition

Or capitalism

Or a poor upbringing

By fucked up parents

In a fucked up society

But I do know

They are on a pipeline

To god

And I don’t judge them

On that

Because I’m on my own

Pipeline to god

And there is nothing

You can do about it.

and in case you were being a paranoid fuck, ART is my pipeline to god. yeesh. 

cb

re: the apology......

here's a couple examples of the apology and a favourite image of a coyote i took a couple years ago.......it was on T'kemlups Indian Reserve........the skelep wasn't even scared of me.........she just kept watching........

anyway, i'm thinking it's time to move on.....or put serious thought to getting out of here......each time i come home from the road, i begin the usual scramble for cash.........and wonder, is this it? is this as good as it's ever going to get? i feel tapped out here, that i've gone as far as i can go from a remote location, now i need input and collaboration and stimulation........

i mean, i've been struggling here for years, and though i'm at a level where i catch a lot of planes and collaborate more, unless something incredible happens, is this it? will it be scrimp, scrounge and save until i die? keep living cheque to cheque? should i give up? should i teach? i just don't know.......

i also watch other artists on the road, and wonder why we do it? a push to create something, art, music or writing, or are they just markings on the wall?

no offence to where i live, coz in many ways i love it here, but when i come home, i keep wondering why i'm here........

i don't really hang out with anyone, and really just count the minutes until i head out of town for the next gig, or until i can see my kids........

not much of a life really........

cb