Lover’s Arms

I found her in the tub
her head in her lap
her arms wrapped around her knees
beautiful ball of sorrow
I noticed inches of cool water
and wondered if it was a collection
of her tears
she’d been there for quite a while
she shivered and sank lower
my heart hit tiles below
I tried to comfort her
“Baby, it’s OK, come here.”
she shook her head and made herself smaller
beautiful ball of sorrow
I could smell her tears
I got to my knees
and forced my love upon her
my arms wrapped around her arms wrapped around her knees
wrapped up in each other
I could taste her tears
“Baby, it’s OK, come here,”
I would say
“Show me your pretty face.”
she pressed her face even deeper
into her knees
that were wrapped in her arms that were wrapped within my own
“Baby, I love you,”
I would say
“Please show me your pretty face.”
then her sobbing faded and
she began coming back to me
slow and reluctant
beautiful ball of sorrow
first eyes then nose and finally
her mouth
eyeliner had bled and made rivers of her cheeks
my heart exploded on tiles
it was the most beautiful I had ever seen her
I whispered, “I love you,”
and she whispered it back
she wrapped her arms around my arms wrapped around her
wrapped up in each other
eyeliner rivers down her thighs

I can’t hurt her anymore.


Watch Where You Step

Three ants got separated
from the group
they circle and lose file
tall blades tickle my face
so much movement
down here
an entire world
they pause to let the drunken beetle pass
I wonder
if I scream at such close proximity
will I render them deaf
do ants even have ears?
three ants hustle back into sequence
now it’s just me and the beetle
I think I’ll pour him another

Face Bills Upwards

Cycles roar
soap suds
people go about their washing
all in my new laundry mat

The chairs are old
the walls are dull
the classical music
plays from somewhere
all in my new laundry mat

The change machine is always grumpy
all in my new laundry mat

A bee firebombs through the open door
the crazy lady pours in way too much
I read a few poems by Bukowski
and then I write my own
they’re not nearly as good
but they’re all I’ve got
all in my new laundry mat

The air is cool and its taste is fresh
my coffee is strong but it’s good
and I drink it all
all in my new laundry mat

Suddenly I realize
we are all strangers in a room
accompanied by every pair of underwear we’ve got
I like the look of my new ones
all in my new laundry mat

I smoke a cigarette
I think of a former lover
I listen to Morrissey’s Lost
all in my new laundry mat

A pretty girl
asks if she can
borrow a quarter
“borrow?” I question
She says, “Yes.”
“it’s more fun that way,” she tells me
all in my new laundry mat

Her hair is brown
and cut very short
she drops her panties into
the open-mouth abyss
I imagine fucking her right there on the washer
making a mess
while the one below her is erased
all in my new laundry mat

I am more alive when my jeans tumble dry
all in my new laundry mat

I fold my clothes and
think of a former lover
I say goodbye
to the pretty girl
she says, “Same time next Monday?”
“Sure,” I say
all in our new laundry mat

Something Moving

She sat on my bed and whispered
I couldn’t hear her for the fan
I’d bet it was something moving
I never bothered to beg her pardon

Her coattails revealed the street
I didn’t want them to touch my bed
I asked, “Can I kindly remove your coat?”
She said she never did.

Kiss me

All I need
is one hair from your head
to keep your DNA close
to keep it next to me
My expensive tastes
crave your sordid genes

Augusta Walls

April 11, 2008

Augusta Walls
(performed in the key of undiminished 7th recollection )

if ever there was a place that was truly ours
it was high above the floor
and wrapped in Augusta walls
we, the insatiable
we, sleep deprived
we, the rehearsal
for the rest of our lives
the door was ajar
it never did fully close
but we didn’t mind much
we had noise to expose
and the boys, they giggled
and the girls, they blushed
we wrote on the ceiling
both foreign in touch
we delivered the signals
elongated lust
we sought the delay
of carnal unclutch
our words were stimulants
our tongues, then sedatives
our skin it crawled
our minds, they melted
Sit around and clean their face with it
Keep streets from the bedding
Her only insistence
was shed all outside threading
a strange looking bloak from wellingborough
stood and stared
school on the morrow
he folds ’cause he cares
up the ladder and down the rabbit hole
we forgot it in people

When I am at the Pearly Gates
I dream of Peter
slouch and wait
He towers above
and deals in fate
the cards they fall
at Heaven’s gate
When I am at the Pearly Gates
I dream of Peter
passing grades
Security guard
or lowly Saint?
When I recall,
I’ve sinned in ways
that would shame the devil
in his darkest days
declining stocks
admission rates
row on row
wear dreary face
Turnstiles roll
commuter delays
When I am at the Pearly Gates
I’ll hop the fence and shield my face

Michael: 1
Peter: 0

Heaven: Breached

Music has long been hailed as the universal language, and it’s proving that it can transcend even the most inhospitable borders on the planet.

The New York Philharmonic Orchestra struck diplomatic chords in the North Korean capital of Pyongyang last night to the tune of a 2500-capacity crowd at the East Pyongyang Grand Theatre. The group of highly celebrated musicians became one the largest group of Americans to enter the country in the last 50 years. The orchestra opened the evening with stunning renditions of both the North Korean and American national anthems and both were met with standing ovations. Amongst the crowd were senior officials and generals of the heavily-isolated nation.

The North Korea State Symphony Orchestra is scheduled to showcase the nation’s musical prowess in Britain with two scheduled concerts planned in September. The first of the two-date tour will be held at London’s Royal Festival Hall and the other will take place in the northeastern town of Middlesbrough.

In a great show of cultural advancement and in reciprocation for the North Korean State Orchestra’s trip to London, officials have invited Eric Clapton to perform in Pyongyang, as reported by the Financial Times. Clapton, 62, is a Briton who is widely regarded as one of rock’s greatest guitarists in the world and has a string of hits in his repertoire, including Layla, Tears in Heaven and Cocaine.

The cultural crossover comes at a time when U.S. and North Korea’s political ties are suffering in the wake of the communist country’s failure to dismantle its nuclear program. The North Korean state media lashed out at American officials last month, accusing them of not making good on promises to remove North Korea from a list of nations deemed as state sponsors of terrorism.





And I will skate…

February 24, 2008

The following story was also published here.

Toronto singer-songwriter Paul Hayden Desser, who performs under the moniker Hayden, played to a sold-out crowd at the Danforth Music Hall on Tuesday evening in support of his latest studio effort In Field & Town. The night marked the end of his Canadian tour which included twenty-two dates in eighteen cities.There was something oddly appropriate about Hayden performing during one of the city’s most frigid evenings of the year. Perhaps it was the fact that nearly every article written about him makes reference to his often gloomy lyrical content, to which even he couldn’t resist commenting on, slyly suggesting that “when I read them it makes me depressed, it’s a vicious circle.” It is that very awkward, boyish charm and wittiness that had the crowd eagerly anticipating every seldom quip from the Thornhill, Ontario-born songster. Maybe it was even the lyrics from his beautifully vulnerable vignette Between Us to Hold, that made the blistering cold all the more appropriate, in which he sings about being stuck inside and teaching a girl to play his guitar while “our heater was shaking and the city was cold.”

The Music hall provided a great atmosphere and the mostly twenty-something, 1,150-capacity crowd spent the majority of the show taking in the music with hushed attentiveness. Making for an even more intimate experience, Hayden opted to leave the boys from Cuff the Duke to attend their own musical endeavors and played the set mostly-solo, only inviting a player of the trumpet to join him on stage for a couple of songs. The venue was so quiet that when a pair of seemingly-intoxicated yahoos began the kind of catcalling more appropriate of say, fans at Kid Rock show, it didn’t take long before Hayden directly addressed them and requested that “If you want to say something stupid, go to the washroom and text-message it to yourself.” Needless to say, the cheering crowd whole-heartedly agreed with the notion. In such timely fashion, that only a higher-power could take credit for it, the silly little yelper’s were removed from the venue as Hayden performed Lonely Security Guard from his new record. Amen!

Hayden coasted through an impressive set list that effectively mixed-up the works of a thirteen-year career. He gracefully made the rounds from his acoustic guitar, to a beautiful-sounding piano and his electric guitar. Highlights of the night included a stunning deliverance of the ever-so-touching Stem, Damn this Feeling, Bad as They Seem, Home by Saturday Night, Trees Lounge, and a very toe-stomping, audience-approved performance of Dynamite Walls.

Hayden’s self-deprecating charm was evident right to the very end of the set as he left the stage for only a second during the crowds’ standing applause and calls for an encore, as if to suggest that he wasn’t quite sure just how long such a request would last for. Hayden-enthusiasts were treated to a post-set consisting of Weight of the World, the wonderful Where and When and Carried Away which he had to restart, chuckling and remarking that he was “rhythmically-challenged’ and that the audiences’ hand claps had thrown him off. Why would a reclusive and depressive homebody who prefers to work by himself know how to stay in time with an audience after all? A second try at Carried away managed a perfectly in-time and downright magnetic collaboration between audience and performer that was treasured by both.

sleeping with a stranger

(written on april 4th, 2007 – unreleased)

i’m walking on sunshine

from this dark place

four thousand miles from

bags packed shoes laced

no soldiers no lover’s arms

just my empty case

and i’ve carried the weight of worlds

but never been no place

and it’s okay to want to cry

tell her that you’re gonna’ try

waking up with her beside

remember what that feels like

your distance likes it far

it blows my mind

remembering montreal

what time is your flight

i heard you are having fun

not me not tonight

but I promise a better life

if you can find the time

and it’s okay to want to cry

tell her that you’re gonna’ try

waking up with her beside

remember what that feels like

i travel through neighborhoods

you jump continents

we’ll meet in the middle dear

well now that depends

I check the mail slot

For letters not sent

Now it’s you that’s slipping from

maybe it’s just not meant

and it’s okay to want to cry

tell her that you’re gonna’ try

waking up with her beside

remember what that feels like

broken down and used all up

keeping on with just a shrug

trading pills for human touch

remember what that feels like

remember what that feels like

remember what that feels like



Sometimes it pays to stay in bed on Monday, rather than spending the rest of the week debugging Monday’s code. -Dan Saloman

The numbers are in for the sales of Radiohead’s – In Rainbows.

Watch Radiohead do an utterly stunning interpretation of the Smiths’  “Headmaster Ritual” as well as New Order’s “Ceremony.” Thanks for sending me this link, Michael K.

Talk about a weird Monday morning: I was thinking about watching Rocky 4 earlier, that’s the one where he fights the Russian powerhouse. Joseph Stalin took power exactly 80 years ago today, and now there are two clients in the office who are here all the way from Russia. One of them is an extremely tall and beautiful woman who doesn’t speak any English. Мать длиной в реальном маштабе времени Россия. Ее ногами будут oh настолько длинний.

Go see Nightlife at the Horseshoe Tavern this evening. 


Currently listening to: Forward Russia – Give me a Wall     

Two women placed together makes cold weather – William Shakespeare

…Or one hell of a Friday evening depending on how you look at it, Billy.

Brr…It’s colder than a witch’s tit in a brass brassiere out there. It’s a mere 4 degrees Celsius at Pearson International Airport right now but it feels more like -4 with the wind chill index. Winter’s gloomy shadow has been cast and it’s promising to make us pay for a balmy fall. Run for your life and roll up your jeans – here come the salt stains.

We saw record breaking highs over the last two months and many of us took full advantage of the open patios throughout the city. I’m shivering just thinking about the next few months, I’ve got sherpas and goosebumps sucking back oxygen as they climb atop existing goosebumpy regions. It’s time to dig out that ol’ box of mitts and scarves from the crawl space and shack up with a woman who has a lot of personality. I don’t even have a crawl space but I’ll be damned if I’m not considering digging one out and trading in my thin girlfriend for one of the bigger-boned variety.

Yikes – the Eaton Centre is already spewing all kinds of Bing Crosby Christmas songs over loud speakers at frenzied shoppers. I saw Sammy kissing Santa Claus underneath the mistletoe last night. She didn’t see me creep down the stairs to have a peep. She thought I was tucked up in my bedroom – drunk and asleep. Where did all the cookies go?   

Who wants to go fishing for some Musky?

Warmest regards,


Currently listening to: Pinback –Autumns of the Seraphs