Author Archives: Victor

THREE YEARS AND COUNTING!

I married the hardest-working super-woman three years ago, August 27th. I am grateful for everything she has brought into my life, and for saving my life from a respiratory depression in 2022. A long story, recounted in Always Breathe now making the rounds of Canadian publishers. Michelle has just submitted a completed draft of her

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CRY, EH

CRATE Gate clangs shut oh my my pain pain cleaves my thunder rail let’s play pretend my wheelchair plays a tune I hear in my ear high eh cry , eh die die God’ s got you by the collar ~ Not at all what I wanted pacing my cage now there’s a tune full

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BRAIN BRAIN PLEASE NO DRAIN

I WANT I WANT I WANT I WANT SOME MORE SENSE IN MY BRAIN COME BACK!  

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G IS FOR

  Gaea: Deep-Breasted Goddess Mother of Earth and Mother of humans. Gag order: Finger down your throat. Gerhard: My friend,  my uncle, my brother.  G is for garden guarded by angel’s flaming sword. We evict those who destroy. Grace: A diamond suppresses light underground. Grace Nickel makes light abound. Gretna: Bordertown, 49th Parallel. Buggy rides.

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POSSIBILITY

I AM SHAKING Possibility is shaking all over me all over me I am shaking all over. I have morte (ha) meaning more meaning than the Gilgamesh giant, and also him in south Saskatchewan and in our own circle we had. Groter Abe. We had a circle we had a circle and italics. But don’t

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LET ME UP LET ME DOWN

HÖRT NICHT ZU Gott du hast mir als Kind aus Wagen hoch oft gehoben. Die Engeln singen alle Mit Trost und Gedanken, du gibst mir nur eine Sprache zu lernen lachest du mir auf mein Eisen Baum so spuck ich in deine Augen! Du bist Ubu ubu ubu und mein Wieb sagt’s dem Hund Quit

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CAT ASK

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PLEASE DON’T PASS ME BY*

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Posted in ARCHIVES, Blog, Listen Here, Music for Men Over Fifty, My Daily Fog, pain room blogish, The 49th Parallel, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

MURMUR STILL

THE DAY I TAUGHT STARLINGS SOME MOVES TO MURMUR I HAD BEEN TAKING WHITE FLAPPING SHEETS DOWN FROM THE LINE AND I RACED IN THE UNFENCED MEADOW ALFALFA JUST STARTED TO HEAD OUT IF THAT’S WHAT IT IS WHEN IT SMELLS UNEARTHLY LIKE SOME FEET ABOVE THE STARLINGS TURN ON THE WING NOW THERE ARE

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Posted in ARCHIVES, Blog, Boundary Creek, Boundary Creek, Health, Listen Here, Listening, My Daily Fog, pain room blogish, Poems, The 49th Parallel, This & That, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

BASKETS & BLANKETS

Note: This is my mother. The last line made me think the photo suitable. I am recovering from a difficult cold subdued by a bottle of Benylin, but it ain’t over yet  baby blue.  I came to understand that my mother’s second “n” on Susann was conjured in the 60s, though a Susan with one

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