confused? or inebriatedly fogged?

--

pourquoi,

home? for an ex-change...

............................................................................

altitude and extinction

Sagacity, though soft, exchanges oxygen for fate, sweat.
The jumpy wheels of an airplane, lowering. At some point,

everyone wonders --- what will happen when we land?
Perhaps Jupiters' clouds are colder than we could ever imagine,

like the stillness of copper green domes (in February),
like war for the sake of war, without marked runways or rhetoric.

Sometimes, as a distinct entity or a whole, we are caught
within the black and white of our own ammunition,

and we wander from each moment to another moment - without sight
or natural selection. Up here, solitude seems like a codicil of thought

and waste, like the envied hostage of a latched door,
an aisle, a rounded plastic window ---- partially fogged.


*****Okay, so it is not the most uplifting shit to begin the week.
Sunday evening. Evening out the time between hope and happiness.
I have returned to that so-called reality, to TO. Soon I suspect,
I will be on the road again, Spain, vacation, property, properly....

Madrid, part two!

Things are fine here. The siestas are welcome, though I'd rather exercise.
I've re-written the poem for X that was included before. Remarkable timing I must say...
I hope, mon ami, you understand Y, you say you remember but I have my doubts.


Past the Church, a Bridge

for no-one in particular — anymore…


The perception of steps beneath a steeple, us,
a rainy morning in August
and the doors are black and wet, closed.
God's will, you say, believing that everything happens,
(must happen), for a reason…

Yet the traffic beside us on Bloor Street
is another truth we cannot discuss,
is just cars passing exhaust
and silent directions. Right, right, then left,
then a yellow light and a chance for collision.

Everything here is defined by wide lanes,
by the yielding of stems and branches to the viaduct,
where, in the wind, we walk, pause,
with the jitters of subway trains going east and west,
with a way that reason cannot avoid.

...Madrid!

working at last, researching, after a few days of not knowing the reason I was here. It is hard to enjoy such a beautiful city when one is a little jet-lagged (four hours in London will do that) and hasn't heard from Ms. Whyte as to the planned order of business.

alas, I did settle down in the hotel / apartment room (?) where they've put me. Luckily I'm not that close to any of the museums and I could waste a few hours travelling there and back. Will write more once I believe I've found what I'm looking for, or when something interesting happens and I get my Spanish legs. I did go for a little run today but the traffic was a little hectic until I reached the park.

I didn't get lost either! Cheers, MIKA.

one of many corrections for X

X
X to the power of
X minus y
X squared

'deel' is spelled DEAL!!

I thought you had a better understanding of mathematics, derivatives, hope?

In light of understanding, or lack thereof, and in the presence of an equation that no longer makes sense... here, coincidentally, is a poem I wrote on the day of your... rescinding. X-it, if you must.



Below the Bridge Someone Holds a Sword

for no-one in particular — anymore…


The perception of a step beneath a steeple, us,
a rainy morning in August
and the door is black and wet, closed.
God's will, you say, believing that everything happens,
(must happen), for a reason…

But the traffic on Bloor Street is another truth we cannot discuss,
is just cars passing exhaust, and silent directions.
Right, right, then left,
then a yellow light and a chance for collision.
Everything here is defined by wide lanes,
by the yielding of grass and trees to the viaduct,
where I walk, pause, in the wind,
in the jitters of subway trains going east and west,
in a way that reason cannot avoid.

hooray for the USA?!

Well at last, Dubya MD, has requested an inquiry into the case of the missing WMD.

But that's not the reason for this title. Would you believe an American Journal (academic) has accepted some of my work... c'est vrai!!!! Au revoir.

MIKA

remaining grounded...

No shadows here, 718 am, another grey dawn accumulating in the western hue of the city. between the dusty blinds of this unofficial perch, 8th floor cublicle, blay and boored, or is it dazed and bored... the distance from here to that smokestack on Mimico Bay seems a little trite this morning, a little farther away than it ought to be. what would we all give for the exhaust of '...six weeks from now?' Warmth, sun, a break in spring, god willing the noise of melting will ascend from the pavement and the grasses, the trails that gather runners and dogs, a flight, an imagining of asymptotic mammals. The weekend that was has passed too quickly, too dimly, perhaps another moment of sun was needed, another hour, why is there always a limit to daylight...

On Saturday one of my many good friends from the Group, errr... Gang of Eight (in the no-longer-so-small Town) got married... a January wedding you say? How antidotical? antipodean? But yeah, with the recent plummetting of snow and temperature it was definitely crisp and white, and a wonderfully rambling event and amusing time. Details? Type-o's?

To begin, I'll avoid any mention of the 2hr 45 minute drive on friday night, snow, wind, slush, traffic! Horrendous conditions, they said, every ten minutes on the ones. I won't disclose my purple hair either (Thanks Jen!) or the person who called in sick, one and the same, he scoffed. For the second part, mon ami, you are absolved, short notice and all, it must have been (was) my fault. Reticence is terminal, so I won't mention anything sentimental or sappy either, love you!. I will tell you I picked up my new black suit the thursday before, looks good, looks well, looks "slimming", ha ha, nice tie too, one too many fashion shows or what? Go away. Not to worry, not to wear.

Love U!

Mrs. H telephoned (rang, I suppose), requesting a lift to the church, seems she was bumped in the rear by an officer of the local constabulary, slick roads, slight grade, slow cornering... a Minardi perhaps. I obliged of course, not waving good (du) bye at the bottom of the crescent, is this a new green car do-you-buy, you might say? I mean do-buy, doo-bee, you ask? Rolling on. Parked nicely, sidewalk view, a neighbour to the big dark ice-snow dump from the front tire of a F150 monster, blue, black, shadowy. Small steps. Now we're inside, much jocularity and hanging of coats, now we're seated, now we're not... must be going to the front row, alas I remember that my phone might ring again, perhaps in the middle of the cermeony of crowns... the vows, perhaps with the toddled march of the ring bearers (or as they call them in the city to the south of us --- BARRIERS!) Oh yeah, the phone is ringing... is that you my dear Jen? What? It's okay.... really... you can't make it, not feeling well... I understand, I'm sure the guys will go lightly, no razzing necessary. Empty palace, empty place... LOVE you, STILL!!!!

Alas I am putting the cart before the bride (just kidding Kel, you're a beauty, and always will be!), returned to my seat, escorted, cajoled, meekly sitting, at peace, Grrrrrr.... moments later nothing has happened, a few more moments later annnnnnddddddddddd nothing happens... waiting for the sky to clear, waiting, alors I think a ghost has appeared. Nope it's only the groom, paler than a white russian on Christmas Eve. There were grander entrances to follow...

finer en-chantments. No the priest is not singing entirely in Greek, servant Archie... servant Kelly... one, two, three, and plenty more children... or something like that. The ceremony was actually very nice - a few kids were a bit unruly, a few chuckles from the groomsmen but all and all very painless and very few tears since most people weren't sure what was happening. Besides it was all over in a matter of an hour, Not Bad at all.

If I have time I will bring you to the reception, (not a bad unintended pun, I must say).