tomorrow i have a big day of being alone.
workshop poems
dar williams.
it's going to be great.


dear universe,
i am a sad cat.
do you have any cat treats for me?
i almost never ask. i hope you don't think i'm being greedy.
in exchange for a cat treat, i'll trade you
a metaphor (or an omen):
tonight i spent three hours carving the most elaborate pumpkin of my life
with a blunt paring knife: all the contours of janine's face.
when i finished i took it to the bathroom sink and scrubbed
all the ink off. the pumpkin smelled like tea tree oil because
that's the kind of soap they have.
on my way out to the living room, the pumpkin
slipped from my hands and broke all over the tile floor.
delicate cranium.
i almost cried but janine helped me reassemble it with shish kebab sticks.
it didn't look quite the same but when we put it outside to test it out
everyone admired the light candling through and said
it would never have glowed like this if you didn't have to
put it back together.


here is some simple math.
the effort required of me to accomplish everything that needs accomplishing within the next seven weeks is more effort than i have. as a result, i don't do anything. i have simply ceased to function and instead of going to the bar or making art or, i don't know, doing my homework, i watch marathons of the l-word and sleep for twelve hours a night.
this is what i want and i'm not sad about it.


dear stephen harper,
fuck you.


dear government,
i received three cheques in the mail today.
one of them is from you.
the climate action tax credit?
are you people serious?
o well.
i'm going to use it to pay for my trip to vancouver
so i can see margaret atwood talk about how inept you are.
not in those exact words, of course. but you know.
how do you like them apples?



sun this morning, after the storms.
dear margaret atwood,
remember when i said i wish i could vote duceppe in the federal election?
we're astral twins, lady. srsly.
keep us safe. srsly.


dear chelsea,
to help you celebrate your birthday,
i got you a ticket to margaret atwood's cbc massey lecture.
i know, right?
there's a catch.
before you go you have to
do your goddamn homework.