Sunday, October 24, 2010

Wednesday, October 20, 2010


 Continuing my meandering through my personal bugaboos...

I'm not going to go into a big thing here re-investigating my gender dysphoria, something that still holds me back self image wise, but more so now because of my history of dealing/not dealing with it, than my current state of mind or being. All I will say is that It's one of my core issues of regret and shame, that holds me back if not on a conscious level, definitely as an undermining force in regards to my confidence with meeting someone I might be interested in dating. As well, it's a distraction from "the work" (the work being writing, publishing, making videos, whatever creative enterprises I am involved in.) I often feel like I spend an inordinate amount of time making negative reasons why I can't do the things I'd like to be doing, and my "history" or baggage as it were in this area is the easiest place to go for me.
Where I think I am dealing in a positive light with all this he/she hoohaw is in my writing. A go to topic for many poems, story ideas that I've had, and some of my more successful (to my mind) pieces of writing stem from my obsession (to put it glibly) with lady-ness and my lack thereof. It's also a convenient crisis that makes it easier to withdraw from moving forward in other paths in life, like writing, publishing, or dating, even. It's easy to convince yourself that if you don't know how you want to be perceived, that others will not be able to do the same for you, and then you can just stop moving forward and wallow in your grief at not having the chutzpah to just work it all out into that vague perfection that you have in mind. At least that's my experience.
Unsatisfying as that is, it is the merry-go-round of my life. Right now however I'm trying really hard every day to gain some discipline by either writing, editing, taking &/or editing photos, or some other creative project everyday. Some days, it's a satisfying release, some days like today, right now it's a slog. But I'm trying every day. My fear of failure and not being good enough, etc is still there under the surface and that's fine if you can get yourself to understand that the fear is a place where the work comes out of often. Writing about my "issues" is what keeps me sane. But it also drives me crazy.
So what is all this rambling about?
My plan for my future, upon returning from Japan had been to get some cushy ESL teaching gig, that made me at least closer to the kind of money I made in Tokyo, from which I would set up my own little self publishing business, putting out chapbooks, and eventually actual bound books of poesy and even perhaps a novel or two here and there. I also had planned to dive back into the cross dressing and become more of a Big old Queen than a trans person, trying to "pass" all the time.
But when I found the ESL gigs out of my reach I floundered and hid from the fear of not being able to afford anything. I had to give up my bachelor pad and move in with roomies again (and I still give thanks to Cory & Kathleen for being there for me in this time) and ended up back in the video store game. It took a few years of my gorging myself and getting humongous and hyper tensioned, and hiding behind what I perceived as my hideous body, and lack of ability to earn a decent living. Even paying off my debts and becoming debt free was muted by my actual lack of financial mobilty afterwards. Since paying off my debts I haven't felt any more like a success than I did before. I'm still living paycheque to paycheque.
Recently (this autumn) this had made me almost inconsolably depressed. I saw no way out. No future at all for me as a person who could attract a partner, or someone who could earn enough money to do anything other than stay home and watch tv every night. I was in a black place. Then some few weeks after my birthday in September, I decided I could somehow afford to publish another chapbook. I researched and found and a few other tools that I needed and sat down to work on whipping a short manuscript of poems together. I did, and now I have a book for sale, and I'm already brewing up my ideas for my next one.
This is at least for now, the new me. My big plan is to keep churning out short books of poetry via, and maybe some photo books, and fiction as well. I plan to send out some stuff for contests, and magazines etc as well, as long as there are no reading fees. I can pay to be published by my own self. If someday a legit publisher offers me some real money I'll take it, but for now I'm doing it myself. I'm scared to death, but that's SNAFU as they say.
Okay that's enough personal blather for the nonce. My next few entries here will hopefully be more in the vein of essays, or reviews of media that I ingest and need to regurgitate with my own half assed or not half assed commentary.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

The Event...

"The Event"... (Finishing my tale of fear and why that emotion has led me to self-publishing again.)
The day started like any other Saturday in my life at the time. I woke up with a headache, and a continuation of the sniffles/cough I'd had for like 6 weeks. I downed some antihistamines, and found that I'd run out of coffee, so I threw on my scarf, jacket and toque and started trudging through the freshly fallen snow to a local greasy spoon where I often went (and still go much less often) for Ukrainian sausage & eggs. As I was walking down the street, I noticed my nose running, and when I looked at my scarf, there were drops of blood.
"Weird" I said aloud, thinking that I hadn't had a nosebleed in a hell of a long time, possibly never as an adult as I could recall. I had been taking a lot of antihistamines to fight of this cold that wouldn't go away. So I ran back home holding my scarf to my nose, and eventually got the bleeding stopped (took a few minutes, but I looked up online the proper way to hold your nose so it stopped and it did.) Once it stopped I did just what I'd set out to do, have a greasy breakfast, some coffee another shop (Turk's) and some grocery shopping after that. I even stopped by work and told people about my weird nosebleed.
I played on the internets for awhile, had a beer or two, and changed into my track pants/t-shirt combo that is my loungewear at home and settled in to watch the HNIC double header, Leafs game first, then the Canucks and someone. During the first period of the Leafs game, the nosebleed came back but not the trickle it had been. It was more of a river of blood. Somehow I never got any on my clothes, furniture, or carpet as I ran to the bathroom and bled all over my sink, grabbing toilet paper to staunch it, the paper soon became bloody pulp and it just seemed to get worse and worse.
I tried all sorts of positions of head, body to try and stop it, eventually, my nose had been bleeding for nearly an hour, so holding my nose and head back I put my pants on with one hand and went upstairs and asked my landlady if she knew any first aid, or if she though I should go to the hospital or what (this was the first time I thought of that!) It was going slower, but still a steady drip. She called a Nurse friend, who said we should call an ambulance or I should cab it to Emergency. Having no money on me (between paydays) I opted for a non-emergency ambo ride.
The ambulance pulled up 10 minutes later and they came in, asking me the standard questions. They were a bit stymied as to why the nose was bleeding so much until I mentioned all the antihistamines I'd been taking. They said it was likely that my nose was all dried out and raw because of that, but then they took my blood pressure. It was insanely high. 220/110 or something like that, I forget the actual numbers, but they kept asking me if I had chest pains, or ever did. No I said firmly, understanding that they thought maybe I had heart issue. This was and is true, never had/have chest pain like that.
They said "well your BP is dangerously, insanely high and you have to come to the hospital if you don't want to have a heart attack or a stroke."
Okay there is something to FEAR. I started to be a little bit afraid at this point, more so than I had been of bleeding out alone in my basement apartment.
There was a light blanket of snow on the streets and hardly any traffic; the ride to St. Paul's was almost pleasant as I gave my history to the ambo guys, who btw were really caring and helpful. They made me calm and I didn't feel as scared going into the hospital as I did when they said we had to go.
I was fast tracked into a room where they stuffed my nose with cellulose like it had just been broken in a hockey fight. Not a pleasant experience that. I grimace just thinking of it. I stayed in the ER overnight, as they couldn't get my BP down where they thought it safe to send me home. I do not recommend the ER at St. Paul's. I was treated (and they shouldn't make this distinction in my opinion, but I got the sense they feel they "have" to) like a junkie, or some child having a tantrum, simply because after sitting there with tubes coming out of me, and my nose stuffed with cellulose for 6 or 7 hours I was trying to get someone to pay attention to me long enough to tell me what was going on.
I almost made a formal complaint when I left the hospital, but didn't want to deal with it anymore.
I ended up staying in the hospital for 5 days, up in the cardiac ward, until they could get my BP down to a level they were comfortable with me being able to maintain; with all the pills and advice they gave me.
This definitely put some fear into me. They told me I needed to lose say 20 or 30 pounds at least, and I had to go on a "heartsmart" diet to help keep the BP down. They never really ever came up with a causal diagnosis other than a predisposition genetically to high BP and my crappy dietary habits/overweightness. At the time I weighed 260-270 lbs.
For the second time in a few years I felt I was in a do or die situation, but this time the die wasn't a metaphorical thing. (The previous do or die, being going to Japan to earn enough cash to be able to pay my debts, which had been impossible to do, staying in Canada) So I started reading up on how to eat healthier, how to read nutritional data on foods. I had never paid more than scant attention to those labels before, simply gorging myself constantly, filling whatever emotional voids needed filling with food. (those voids btw are mostly still active and hungry, but I ignore them for the most part these days)
What I found as I went along though was that actually it was a fairly easy thing to eat healthier, and less. (for example: The day I left the hospital even, I looked healthier than I had in a couple of years as the High BP inspired acne/rosacea that had been making me feel like an ugly troll for the last few years had completely vanished.)
Losing weight turned out to be embarrassingly easy for me. Embarrassing, because it was so simple: eat smaller/healthier meals. Now I weigh 185-190 lbs. Though I still have too much flab on my torso since the regular exercise aspect of healthier living is the hardest part of living healthy, for me personally.
I am getting to a point here, and that is despite my conquering of the high BP (which I still take some meds for, mind you, and watch my diet etc) there is still a real fear of (for lack of a better term) my own body that I haven't been quite able to get past yet.
Psychologically speaking my first guess is that this fear of being more physical stems partially from the stuff I was mentioning the other day here, about some things being so easy for me, that I never tried very hard at them. Sports are a good example of this. The very basic aspects of team sports I was decent at as a kid, but as a chubby little bugger, I often was picked last for things, or not included because of an assumption I wouldn't be good enough. I took this seriously, and it became a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy, and my confidence (and still does) ran very hot or very cold.
This led to me either trying really hard or more often, not at all in situations like gym class. Playing road hockey, or sandlot baseball though, I always gave it my all. The other aspect of my body fear was that my body wasn't really my own. Hunh? You say?
 (Again To be Continued, eventually I'm going to get to my point, but I've decided to go with the flow on this blog....)

Friday, October 15, 2010

Thursday, October 14, 2010

More Confidential, less Report... (okay it is really long, this entry)

Sort of... I want to write something about fear. As it's the emotion/state of being that dominates my life in a quieter way than it does some people. I don't mean the Capital "F" Fear mongering by the mainstream media, government etc, as it only affects me peripherally vis a vie my abhoration (to coin an odd but cool sounding word) of those institutions.
My fears are pretty simple. Mostly it comes down to a fear of failure and that old bugaboo that haunts a great many people: that people will find out you aren't worthy of whatever attention they have been paying to you, or the attention you want from them. It's a hard thing to define as I guess everyone has some degree of feeling like a faker in life no matter how confident you project yourself.

I have been writing/creating art pretty much my whole life. I have a certain inborn facility for it. What I don't have is discipline. I have quite a bit of education, but I've never ever tried very hard at any of that. In school I did what would probably be considered, the bare minimum amount of work to get the halfway decent grades I usually got. the areas where I failed were areas where my own prodigious reading, and seemingly inborn knowledge didn't give me the answers I needed. This would be your sciences/math. Show your work? Pfft. The answers that came to me often eluded the showing of work, and sometimes those were even the right answers.

Studying has never been my strong suit despite the fact that I read (for pleasure) almost constantly. I'm a sponge. It's how I have always learned, really. I listen to what's being said, often while doodling instead of note taking. My notes were never anything you could study from... doodles, and interesting turns of phrase that the teacher or professor used (often famous quotes) to explain whatever they were explaining. I would always do the readings but just as readings, one time usually, unless I didn't get it.

A good example of this is my film classes in University. I would watch whatever film we had to watch, doodling in the margins of my notebook, occasionally jotting a witty line, or an observation about the actor/plot. Looking back on those notes when it came time to write the essay, I would look at my notes and say to myself, ok that's no help.

(NB: Back in my day we got to see whatever movie once usually... most titles I saw in Uni were often not readily available on tape (No DVDs/No Internet) or for any further viewings.)
Very casually I'd hit the library at U of M for magazine articles, books on whatever film, and genre, taking quotes, ideas to shape my essay, again very little note taking, actually. Then the night before whatever essay was due, I'd start actually writing. If I didn't "get it" in one draft, I'd crawl to whatever Prof and ask for an extension. Usually my essays were a week or longer overdue. I may have had some "A's" in there, but was always marked down for lateness, or my hurried single draft incoherence. My ideas however were always given praise. This was all I really required to feel good about what I'd done.

An interesting difference in how I write though appears when I seriously started to write poetry, which developed out of my high school-ish writing of crappy rock lyrics that I indulged in during my first few semesters at University. This happened when I discovered the Beats (through friends at school, not through classes I took), and modern poetry (mostly of the Canadian variety) and realized that my crappy song lyrics were not the way to go specifically since I hate trying to rhyme things.

My poetry is a far different beast than my more scholarly ummm, "efforts". I write and re-write most every poem many times, often dozens if not upwards of a hundred drafts it takes me to do each and every poem, with a few exceptions here and there, that spill out pretty well the first time.) It's far more like sculpting than any other kind of writing that I've tried. I have pieces that I've been "tweaking" for almost 20 years. I'm also someone who if I had more stuff published would still be tweaking things that had been published if I felt it needed to change somehow. This technique worked for Walt Whitman.

Anyway, where the fear comes in for poetry and me is not getting up and reading it somewhere (I do get nervous sometimes, especially if it's been awhile since I've read in public.) or showing my work to someone, or getting edited/graded on the work. I can roll with that, and feel that I've improved a lot of work that I've gotten feedback on, through that feedback. For example when I did more freelance back in the late 90's early 00's for local weekly/monthly art rags around town, I learned a lot from the various editors I worked with, and lost any sense of ego I had about my article writing at least.

I am sometimes a bit hesitant about the edginess of some of my poems, but then I'll read someone else's work that makes my "edgy stuff" look like nursery rhymes.
The fear for me is completely that fear of not being good enough, or at best not doing what whoever it is my audience (editors, publishers) might be is not what they're looking for. There are definite "schools" of poetry in this country, and elsewhere. It makes sense to look at what sorts of things are being published in the magazines or at the publishers you are sending your manuscripts to, doesn't it? I feel I never see the kind of thing I'm doing anywhere I look. But that, I'm beginning to think is just one of those rationalizations for fear of rejection - "Oh they aren't looking for my brand of free verse weirdness anyway, so why waste time sending of a submission." - this reeks of fear based rationalization. But I hear myself say it all the time if not in so many words.

No one wants to be rejected, and if you play the publishing game in the 20th century model at least, that's what you are doing. It's all about winning the lotto really. We've been brainwashed by our culture into thinking that everyone has a best seller, or a hit movie script etc, waiting to emerge fully formed like Athena from Zeus' forehead. We're all creative geniuses, if only we could get Random House or Warner Bros to notice.

This is one of the main reasons I've decided to start again do some self-publishing. I'm pretty sure that even if that Ms. I have at Anvil gets accepted, or if I were to spend hundreds of dollars entering "contests" or paying reading fees to poetry journals (and actually getting in print) I'm not going to be earning a living. But I could be spending those entry fees publishing my own books.

One of the best experiences of my life was self-publishing my first chapbook - "Like Bukowski In Drag". With some formatting help from my friend Tom Snyders, I put together what I think still is a great little chapbook. I sold out two small runs of it basically, selling more than I gave away. This qualifies as a successful publishing venture in my opinion, despite the fact that none of the places I sent review copies ever printed any reviews, it's not an unknown quantity at least in the Vancouver scene.

Before my fragile credit card bought world collapsed and forced me to flee to Japan in 2002, my plan had been to have another poetry book published by a new local press, and keep putting out my own chapbooks as well. I've got a lot of unpublished material from my 20+ years of scribbling free verse odes to unrequited love, weird sexual encounters and the general nuttiness I see everyday in the world. The book deal collapsed with said small press while I was in Japan. Outwardly, I shrugged it off, but in hindsight this actually kind of crushed me.

My writing output really slowed the longer I stayed in Japan. I got a digital camera and developed a love of taking photos. All my creative energies soon ended up there, taking photos, editing them in Photoshop etc became my main creative output, with some trickles of poetry still happening occasionally. But the confidence in my writing was not where it had been after "Bukowski” came out.

When I left Japan, flush with cash and feeling less burdened by the debts I was still paying off, and completely confident that I could land an ESL teaching gig that was as cushy and financially rewarding as my post in Tokyo had been. I was wrong. In three months of job searching I discovered that in Canada the ESL racket is just that: a racket. Real life experience teaching in a foreign country had no sway over potential employers, unless you also had a TESL/TOEFL teaching certification, which everyone and their dog had. Often, I was offered the chance to take the course those same ESL schools offered. Paying to work somewhere was how I saw it.
Trying to get non-ESL work was equally frustrating. Eventually I had to go back to part time video store work just to make ends meet. Fear took over my life again, as I retreated into overeating, drinking and chronic pot smoking. I had to move in with friends and finish paying off my debts while earning less than half what I did in Tokyo.

I applied for over a hundred jobs in 2005. Got 3 interviews. No gigs.

With so little going my way in those days, I now almost feel like it was a darker time for me than my just pre- Japan life where I was in debt to my eyeballs, and fearing those collection agency calls etc. I lived a completely unhealthy lifestyle completely out of my feelings of self-loathing. Then I had the high blood pressure "event" which changed my life...
(I'll continue this story with my next entry.....)

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

short update

Well, I managed to de-frustrate myself with the "Booksmart" tool. (Which is more of an adjective in this case than a noun - "tool") Do not take them up on the "just import your "word docs" into it and it'll all be good. It won't. i had to cut and paste each page separately (not each piece, but each page. Sheesh.

I think they make all their money on photo books etc. the forums were filled with people talking about hardcovers and expensive costs, but if you go softcover it's very reasonably priced. i;ll be able to retail for 12 bucks (There's shipping and taxes if you buy online, but not everyone can get a copy from me directly) or at least that's my plan.

More on this hopefully including a link on this blog to my blurb page with how to buy. you might get one before me. I plan to order some on the weekend. Just a small order to start with. Then once I sell a few, turn that money over into more copies.

no TV No Movies in the evening, just work, makes me confused. I feel like it's 3am, and it's just past 10:30pm.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

learning by learning

Well, I've been plugging away trying to get my book to be formatted properly with's "booksmart" editor. There are no default poetry book settings it seems. The text flow thing keeps readjusting itself in ways I don't want. I will have to, I figured out last night, I think: import each piece separately perhaps. (or maybe do it up in word and save as a pdf and then import it. the margins may work better) All their "help" stuff is on videos, I'd much rather read a few lines of FAQ than sit through videos to see if they solve my issue.

I do however like how easy it was to make a spanking nice cover. I have that part all figured out. Given myself the next week (til payday) to figure out the formatting. The little chapbook I was going to publish is now an actual book of poetry at 80+ pages. I think I will also then apply for an ISBN number through the Gubmint.(sic) Then I can bring it to bookstores maybe?

I am getting antsy that and having a lot of self doubt about being ale to save enough cash to do this project. Luckily I can order as many or as few book as I can afford at a time, and the cost is no less or more than a regular actual publisher would charge you for your books.

But to get to the learning by learning... I feel that I am by thinking of this book project and working on it everyday, learning a lot about how to get some confidence about my writing and my ability to perhaps carve out some kind of discipline from the block of angst,repression & fear that is my creative life. Already in the planning stages I have two more book publishing ideas. One a book of photo-shopped all to hell photos illustrating my eventually complete Arthurian Cycle of poems... which so far aren't really connected, by much other than tone. I'm hoping the photo help me to bring that all together.

Secondly I'd like to do a similar project with my previous chapbook "Like Bukowski In Drag"... planning to do both an e-version of that (as well as all these other ones) as well as a 3rd edition/printing as a "Deluxe hardcover edition with some new poems added, and a lot of artwork as well. Both these projects are in the very early planning stages, and I will update about them as I make progress.

Then there is the novel writing.

My novel that I started last year about this time has been simmering lately in the back of my brain. My plan with that is to have a decent readable/editable first draft done by the spring. Edit it all summer, then publish it myself in the Fall next year. Why no submissions to pub houses? Impatience. i'm going to plow my own fields. I am not adverse however to some house picking up any of my books for more "mainstream editions" if that were ever to happen.

Getting yourself out there and known even in tiny circles as someone producing work that people hopefully enjoy is really all that I'm after. I'd love to be able to supplement my job and perhaps even work there a bit less and more on the writing.

someday. Now to work.

Friday, October 8, 2010

seeing light ahead, maybe

looking for the right fit for doing a Print On Demand thing has led me to sign up on

they have (cross platform even) a nice little imposition editor that you can download for free to get your document to fit their specs. You can use your own cover images etc.... and the price is competitive. So I'm re-editing for the next week or so, taking out some weaker pieces and actually bulking the book up a bit with some poems I think share more of a tone, though not content. There's a real melange of themes and ideas, which if you know me is pretty much how I roll. :p

Seriously, I do prefer that kind of book, maybe a few loosely connected poems, or a really long poem or two, but mostly different topics, styles almost every page. It reflects who I am as a writer more. I'm sure I will do more singly themed books in the future as I'm already planning a future chapbook of my Arthurian Cycle. I think that one though will also be a bit of a photo book as well. But more than that I can't yet say, as I haven't quite figured it out yet.

Thing is I've got this book up to 70 pages now (I'm using the smallest cheapest book format they have, though I'm going to mock up a more trade paperback looking one and compare costs.

So much work being a self publisher, even when you aren't doing the actual printing. But It makes me feel good to have some focus most days. I needed to jump into a project of some kind, something with some kind future possibilities, and to me the cheaper and easier it gets for me to self publish, I think the more I will do as much as I have time and money for.

At least that is the plan. I want to see this one book through, how well I can hawk it is another thing altogether, and how fast I sell them will determine how quickly I get to the next one. I actually don't really care anymore whether Anvil even looks at my manuscript.

(I sent in a Ms and a query as to they would be interested in my stuff... I have no idea really if it is what they are looking for. I just sent in as many pages that I love as they asked for and hope for the best, but I won't hear yea/nae the latter being the likeliest, as you have to be prepared to be rejected regardless of how good or bad your stuff is.)

It'd be nice to have if I want to start granting to get work, but I think either way I want to try to do at the very least one self published chapbook a year. Eventually maybe even getting my shit together to self-publish one of my barely started great Canadian novels I have on file.

sigh. I hope I can keep the momentum going Ganbatte!

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

A Cure For Mirrors?

Another update.

I'm planning on publishing a chapbook that includes a series of poems I wrote based on a suite of classical music, some random Haiku, the first third of my very own Arthurian Cycle, and at least one biblically inspired (if heretical) inspired piece.

It just might be called "A Cure For Mirrors".... Tentative title from one of the poems. Figuring out the how to finance on my very limited budget is what I've been concentrating on all morning. It looks at first glance that my idea of doing Print On Demand is a no go, mostly because of the prohibitive pricing, and distro options (most bookstores pretend these kinds of books don't exist) and lack of being able to do the book exactly how I want to.

I looked into a local "Espresso Book Publishing Machine over at Oscar's Books on Granville. Too steep again, they've raised their prices since my initial inquiry in the summer, also my chapbook is too short for many of these options. I do also plan on making an E-book of it, perhaps through these guys: They also do the NaNoWriMo which was great fun last year.

I guess what I may to is go to a local print shop (Kinko's -ish) and print off a bunch of covers, and do the interiors myself using a nice little imposition applescript I found that seems to work pretty well. Though it may well be cheaper to print the interior at a copy shop also. Ink is expensive and my printer while sturdy is just an ink-jet.

Buying a laser printer would be a decent investment for future projects. But as I say money is limited. I do want to not stall out on this yet again though. Like my first chapbook, I've been saying I'm going to do this one for a few years now.

I have a bit more actual editing to do, and some tightening up of the technical stuff as well as creating an eye catching cover. I plan to have the content ready in a week or so in terms of little tweaks to pieces that I want to include. It seems like a lot of work, and it is. But I feel like I will be rewarded in these efforts simply by making them. No sane person expects anything out of their chapbook publishing getting your work seen by at least a few fans of poetry.

Also tentatively lined up is my launch, sometime in Nov, Dec, or Jan. depending on how long it takes me to get this done. Some special guests will be there, and I plan to make a fun event out of it, whenever it finally happens.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Another Stab at regular blogging

Okay so I'm going to start updating this blog with the odd rant, essay, story, poem, short film, and/or the usual goofy links from the Internets that I run across in my daily surfing excursions.

Sometimes these rants etc may be of a personal TMI kind of thing, sometimes they may be quirky half assed opinions on things happening in the world, or reviews, opinions slightly less than half assed film, TV, music & pop culture reviews/rants etc.

Whatever it is though that I'm regurgitating on here, I hope will be regularly done, actually. I need to develop more discipline in my artistic endeavors. Eventually I'd like to be filing one "Report" daily, whether it's a new poem, movie review, intellectually bereft, but impassioned screed on some topic I only vaguely understand, or something else.

I think I'll start with a poem, one that I wrote fairly recently and thus is likely unfinished, as I tend to keep editing poems forever, like Walt Whitman (one of my personal heroes if you are looking for further insight into me) I don't see why even after publication, if the poem needs it. Not all do.

Anyhow it's a piece about innocent flirtation, the kind where nothing more than the flirting is important, there is nothing beyond it, at least for me. I enjoy light flirtation as a way to build self-confidence without other overarching concerns about umm "relationships" and all the baggage that comes with expectation from the mating dance. Sometimes (most times for me) the dance is enough to keep me happy. I don't really need more. Someday I might though, I have an open mind.

Flirting With The Girl

every time those milky

tiny fingers


curl into psalms

seductive pouting




on those lips

crackles of combustion

knead my eyes

up in to

fleshy electric apple



trip & hammer

my blush of

a heart

as we struggle

not to giggle



instead talk

& tease each other's


that we are caught




this clattering of

clever tongues

and shy silent glances

that blind and bind

our voices in knots

that will

never be

entangled in those

tiny fingers

© 2010 Joe Boyce Burgess