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Hannah

September 21, 2017

Pass by!
the tea-cart,
ignore!
the doilies and the mints
(in their crystal bowl),
look down from!
the enormous china cabinet—
DO NOT PASS GO!—

A cutthroat real estate mogul is on the cusp of a monopoly.

But then,
and then,

She serves the whole family dinner,
all the courses and dessert.

Her little frame
held a painting of such colour,

and that colour
is now dancing
beyond its corners.

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Swimming

September 14, 2017

a.
Already the colourful strings
show on their napes,
tied in bows.

Plastic bag crinkling,
filled with a towel and old trunks:
pressed on the lap.

How do those windows open?

Wouldn’t it be funny if
“The wheels on the bus go round and
No.

Just moving the red latch makes the buzzer sound.
(it wasnt me)

b.
Eyes on the arms of the boys,
on what’s under their shirts.

Find a stall to change in
quickly
quickly.

Shivering.

Breathe in and hold the ribs out,
cross arms.

c.
Echoes, amplified.
Pitter patter on shining tiles.

Beautiful girls,
colour and skin,
miles of skin
to travel in the briefest look.

Better boys,
shrivelled boy in old trunks:
breathe in and hold the ribs out,
cross arms.

d.
And
brown sticky benches
And
the smell of chlorine
On the way back.

Basement summer

August 1, 2017

Concrete ceiling shedding dust,
the upstairs neighbours old cigarette smoke.

Sun through three high panes shines weakly,
fills the room,
doesnt leave:
grime, glass, grime.
stifling.

Broken thermostat in the (shared) laundry room,
landlords running the dryer without static guard.
vents in the back access:
the only moving air.

Basement summer:
a city of roommates exhaling hot air,
complaining.

Alone Before the Doors of the Silent House

July 21, 2017

Mournful ukulele, dirge-like accordion, and song titles drawn from Tess of the D’Urbervilles are three of a multitude of unconventional aspects featured on my latest musical release, which also presents a number of previously published poems in a new, melodic format.

Resurrection is Hard Sometimes (Link)

April 24, 2017

Resurrection is Hard Sometimes Resurrection was easy for you: encounters in the garden, walking through walls, breaking bread, breakfast on the beach, a cruise on the clouds to go back where you came from. But what if going back where you came from was back to an alley full of dumpsters and rubble […]

via Easter Monday Reflections — gareth brandt

At the concert,

February 4, 2017

Stage-lights monopolized colour, so
your cheekbones rested and
your jaw was outlined
in soft grey.
Its curve deflected sound, meaning
noise outlined your face but did not
invade it:
There was silence in your eyes
and
comfort in your lips.

Familiar Holiday Tales, Evening 2

December 5, 2016

The stage is set: a comfortable armchair draped over with woven blankets sits next to a glittering Christmas tree, itself festooned with tinsel and tasteful decoration. A cloth-bound book rests crookedly on the arm of the chair. The NARRATOR enters, dressed in earth-toned tweed, his pants just a little short and revealing festive knee-high socks.

Narrator (sipping from a wineglass of eggnog carried in his hand before placing it with care on the floor): Compliment your rum with a dash of eggnog this holiday season.

Welcome to Familiar Holiday Tales one and all, young and old. Whether we are grey-haired, no-haired, or just had our first haircut, we are all celebrating the same wonderful season. Those who are not celebrating the season are probably not doing so willfully, but must simply not know that it is Christmastime; but never fear, my welcome extends to you also: to the black-and-curly-haired and the corn-rowed. Welcome one and all to this installment of Familiar Holiday Tales, even if you are not familiar with holiday tales at all.

Read more…