04 July 2006
shapeful stained life
The dog is barking again,
the trees are spiralling still,
along Cortez Street that
human beauty in a late afternoon sun.
Nostalgia has left.
Where? Now grit on teeth while
walking dirty city style, yes this
includes fried chicken and stern
brick buildings up against the sun.
Spirals are the shape of it,
Portugese music via Canada
is the sound of it.
Looks like a frisky haze haunting
streetlining bushes under an
angled sun.
It arrives commentless and
noticeless, not like the rockbands
on corner boardups.
It beckons but not much. It dangles
a fat frisky sun.
