A Family Man (Poem)

Trying to find solace in solitude
Was never for me
I needed the big family
I wanted the little struggles
Before putting them to bed.
The baths
And the teeth
And the song
Or a story
And then the brief moment to yourself
For coffee
Tea
Or a poem
A game of something

Or just sitting in silence
Just enough cuddles
Or a little bit of a talk
In peace and quiet
Equanimity
For an hour
Never more
Or not that often anyways

Because
6 AM will come again really soon
And the kids will be jumping around
Asking to be fed
And cared for
Pampered
Dressed
Taken to school

All the small
Mundane
Things of life
You didn’t know
You needed
Till you didn’t have then anymore.

A quiet evening
Food in the pantry
Bills are paid
And someone in your bed
Looking for
That little heel hook
That puts you to sleep at night.

A family man.

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Je serai au Metropolis Bleu – Will be at the Blue Metropolis Festival.

For the Montreal Noir pannel.

A cbc/Montreal Review of Books event. With Geneviève Lefebvre et Samuel Archibald.

Sunday the 29th at 11h30 8$

Hotel 10 on Sherbrooke.

Je serai au festival Blue Metropolis pour le pannel Montreal Noir avec Geneviève Lefebvre et Samuel Archibald.

Un evenement CBC/Montreal Review of Books

Dimanche le 29, 11h30, 8$ @ Hotel 10.

A Yet to be Titled Song (Poem)

A Yet to be Titled Song (Poem)

Break the truth

Into a shallow pile

Of words

Not

Even

Worth

Typing in full

A coming of age

In an atmosphere

Of shallow talk

Of shallow cuts

And shallow graves

Of the mind

Slow death of language

And love

Or passion

(chorus)

And I’m standing on a road to somewhere

I’m standing on a road to nowhere

I’m standing in a place for me.

And I’m right here fucking losing my mind

This time, It just might be the last time.

(chorus)

Cause I’m standing on a road to somewhere

I’m standing on a road to nowhere

I’m standing in a place for me.

And I’m finding what it takes to break me.

I’m finding only love can kill me

(chorus)

Cause I’m standing on a road to somewhere

I’m standing on a road to nowhere

I’m standing in a place for me.

Got lost into a wonderful breakdown

Then lost into a pitiful breakdown

Until I’m just done

With everything

I’m just done.

One Not So Solitary Writer (poem)

As spring finally comes
To save me from myself
And the dead of my first
Winter
As a broken home

I sit at the corner
Of wooden counters
Reading a book
And having coffee
Bowie’s
We can be heroes
Is playing in the back

And you can’t make this shit up
I will swear to that.

I look up accros the street
Former red light
Quartier latin
Theatre Sainte-Catherine

Twenty years of my life
Around these parts
It has to mean something
Or I would have moved away by now

So I close my book
Genevievre Lefebvre
And Samuel Archibald
People who can write
Like motherfuckers

I smile as the sun hides away and
The city lights mix with the hues of
The blue hour.

I realise I am at peace now
Here
Where young, eager students
Mix with social workers
Aging artists

And one not so solitary writer

A crowd like no one else
TSC
And Montreal Franglais

I smile
For
After the massive crash of winter
And all that was said and done

I am happy here

I am home