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August 31, 2014 by Wayne.


You know, I was a poem once
Furious neo-liberalism, shouting through spittle
It was alright.
There were lulls between the verses,
where I spent most of my time, but
I tried not to think of it too much.
I know you didn’t like me very much
When you were angry enough to speak the truth, you would call me cold and distant, the kind of bitch who smears on the deepest scarlet and smirks about how little you mean to her
and i was like, fuck,
that’s kind of true lol
I mean
I guess I drunk texted you once but that was actually a mistake,
this isn’t about you
And I go for gloss now.

I kept bumping into these strange, strange people
in that past life
and I soon grew weary of them
They would talk angrily, at length, of disorder and emancipation
and sometimes they would ask me what I thought
and I would smile through progressively blacker
shades of lipstick, and say It doesn’t matter
what I think
it was all very dull
It was a relief to leave, really

After the shifts and dis-
continuities, after the congregations of orders,
black masses floating through
mind’s boreal clarity, icebergs in fog,
flotillas of wintering ducks weathering the night,

I was slightly off the campsite at Red Deer,
fresh from touring the badlands
when I first realized I missed home
It’s all very well to talk of self-discovery
But I longed for the comfort of my own protracted pauses
The caress of words, precise and so,
so far away from the metaphors of these foreign lands
where I no longer understood
Here, the trails grew slick in the rain and I moved

I’m meeting all sorts of strange boys now. They read Deleuze and other French pricks and smoke too much and they want to tear me up and sometimes I’m too tired to say no. And some leave behind half-drained Cragganmores with the cedar and peach smoke long dissipated, leaving only the darkest of textures, the blackberry molasses and peppered finish, and I drink hungrily and readily once they’re out the door, and some leave behind books by Ammons that I ignore and return to dreaming of what once was. “She never lies about her influences though,” he says and I say yeah

It’s never been the same, you know?
Sometimes I wish I hadn’t

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