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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.

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,


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
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…

Familiar Holiday Tales, Evening 1

December 3, 2016

The scene is set: a red wingback chair sits by a crackling fireplace bordered on both sides by ceiling-scraping Victorian bookshelves. A mug of steaming apple cider sits on a finely carved side table, upon which also lies a leather-bound book and a pair of spectacles. The NARRATOR enters, dressed in a deep green smoking jacket and plaid pyjama pants, carrying a packed tobacco pipe, which he lights and puffs upon while settling into the chair.

Narrator (setting his pipe on a rack on the side table): Good evening, and welcome to Familiar Holiday Tales.

Tonight’s Familiar Holiday Tale is, indeed, quite well known, but it is most often rendered in lyric by young women hoping to showcase their vocal talents during middle school Christmas concerts.

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November 10, 2016

Why even eat dinner.
I will just lie here
and forget existence.