sleep etcetera

enough sleep
2005-03-30— Posted by: allegra

I reviewed the pix taken at the booze up tonite, and only a very very naughty girl would either post them or pretend they had ever been taken. Please rest assured that I will never post them. I may email them to the deserving few, but I will never ever ever post them.

enough sleep
2005-03-30— Posted by: allegra

OH my GODDESS. The CEO showed up at the beerfest goodbye for a coworker. After I had the benefit of two beers I told him I was really happy he showed up, as he completely prevented anybody from talking about work…. And I didn’t have to pay for the beers, may the Green Man be praised. I will likely have to pay for them later… in fact I know I will, but in food, rather than beer. Came through the door and Keith said, all excited-like “I was hit on by a cougar today!” and after I quit laughing I asked him the circumstances and venue, and he said the library, and that she backed up in horror and ran away when he announced his age (18). Keith just said, apropos of remembering more than one thing at once, you know, you really shouldn’t multitask if you can’t remember the first task. All things considered a very fine day for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was my coworkers finally made my palpitations go away, by being Nice and Entertaining. Then my afternoon completely fell apart, until the beer started happening. I love my coworkers, not literally of course. Ha. I am happy right this moment… but it won’t last. Paul made jello and is cutting up a ripe pineapple even as we speak. I saw a great blue heron driving back from the warehouse this morning….. and if you’ve been paying attention, you know what that means. Keith is wanting to play and sing, so we will do that.

enough sleep
2005-03-30— Posted by: allegra

I hear Air Canada won a Delta maintenance contract that is going to keep 300 maintenance workers on the payroll. This is, I believe, good news, at least for the workers. For Air Canada, unless their lawyers have achieved consciousness and located their mojo, it may not be such good news; my understanding is they made no money at all on the Northwest contract a few years back… the Northwest lawyers and negotiators saw Air Canada coming and nickeled and dimed them to death with BS penalties – and this with the boys and girls in Montreal working flat out, seven days straight for the run of the contract. However, that was in the days of Holy Holly, as the boys referred to him. It may be better under Robert “Midnight Express” Milton. At least the work isn’t going to Hong Kong. Despite my snidity, I am happy about this news, I just wish I could see the terms.

nothing of interest

Well, I woke up at 4:30 and got up at 5 after 5, having decided that Paul didn’t deserve to be stuck in the same bed as the meat version of the Tiltawhirl. Yes, I’m having palpitations again, although not to the point that waves of dread and “Should I go to the hospital” thoughts are going through my tiny bean. Promptly made myself a cup of tea. I have no idea why drinking some caffeine would calm my heart down, but it did. Now I’ve read my way through the news – such as it is – why, there wasn’t even anything good on, or, or any of my usual haunts, although the plagiarism link at was worth the scan – and reviewed the pix taken last night at the pub. I have to say that in my entire life, I have never seen work related pix that are quite so disturbing. All of us, with the exception of a gal in Finance, either look demonic, demented or deformed. I’m not exaggerating. It’s truly remarkable. And no, the CEO isn’t in any of the pictures, we have more class than that.

I’m really looking forward to my vacation. But then who isn’t?


A conversation

we glitter
and sink
into silence
evade us
a perfect remark
implicit in
coils from
the book

a time lapse flower

a staircase sprite
lingers like perfume

if we speak
we will abolish
the amazing

the unsaid is everything

Air Writes previously published in interface 13

Air Writes (previously published in interface 13)

insink instinct

hammer bones

intelligence is always hunting for a venue . not just a matter
of a phone call
more like and less like
various slides and throbbing notes, modulated trills
dancing off the scope, the gap exactly right
for a lifetime of performance

into it intuit
sharpen fangs

preparation leaves me bleak
it's never saved me
knowing what comes next
has never saved me

into the evening to return a movie, & at least once a year, a ritual returned to its rightful, my body . the air . why in all this warmth, the sweet grey cloak of dusk, am I not standing naked to the elements

who are, for once
not lining up to kill me, suck the air
out of me, blind and remind me
just how weak I am

spacial special
the boundaries delete
themselves, accompany each other, giggling
about another category concept mistake
excape wile you can
creep & fly

some combination

flow back into your beginnings like bad fx

or into your slide of the future hauling 
my partial lobotomy

o edges
o proportions

hail and gangbuster . I draw the line
& it becomes a snake, a word, a limit
& a runt from another idea's litter
vibrato, the particle that tags the wave
the wag that tells the tale of the dog

so far away

depart from all those lines
live limitless

but on this side of my skin, the joke
that inheres in every limitation rules
bones make rules
fangs take their censuses
air writes

exigent tangent, this
for a handiform critter in profile
enthroned among magazines, haloed
by brittle backwash of sodium light

you sluggard, rise and be done
with words, this is my appeal to you
to silence me

wreathed in apt and mannerly constructions

posit a tacit elixir, present and still corked

put your face against the flower and breathe

unless allergic
histamine blowout
streaming eyes
eruptions, failing bronchi
over - reaction

dance with oncogenes, muddle medullae

whims and strings of arbitrary protein

but rise & borrow the protection of my skin
I can offer this

take shelter 

then do something else.  My skin
is used to absences.

I live in a country between visits to you.  
It doesn't have a name or a physical location.
It is a lost file on a crashed disk.
Maybe one bite is missing.  
Send my teeth and clothes to Forensics 
when you're done.  It is not subject to
examination, but one has to try,

for reasons of honour
or something that sounds just as good.

I live in a room full of your ideas.  Most of them are like
windows.  Some are more like shutters, but that's the way
the analogy stretches.

I live in a skin
completely shed since last you touched it
dust mites breed where perception did

the body of god
this heaven scent flesh a sacrament
a ritual to end uncertainty

who goes there in the dark?


that is all . what will I leave
but protein in a carbon shell?

you in the eerie neon glow of a night light
tame fire, this atavistic prompting
commences stalking closure
here is a new tattoo
it reads, amid scrollwork:

Interpretation Centre for the Numinous

ain't that the luminous truth

you with godhead peering slyly out 
from every pore
distill the essences & know
what they are for

a reconciliation for these warring voices
within and surrounding, bounding
toward concrete

dust and rust . kicked up and blown
into my lungs, up into the Kootenays
to finally exhale

now, air

sniff the city
pernicious afterburn
of stone and metal
whirling with the hydrocarbons
and the odourless horror
of common compounds

(always trying to plant a kiss
(on Truth's mouth, while the creature
(deer-like leaps away

renegade in ruins

long slow cud
of indigestible idea

and drifting spin(e)wise to a new orientation

The sun's begun again.  It never stops but it cycles.

Bless this blast.  Hallow this scurvy stain.
Instead of skin, this intimation of a fleshly wall.
Charisma rats on Chaos.  Each name has a price.

Count into oblivion, or even farther

Oblivion is just as close or far as any whacking great idea, infinity, the limit, that interesting play on words I left lying in the bushes, around here somewhere.

Here was I rapid forward and shake into your field of vision.  It's all over so fast 
the flavour disappears
mysterious trail, invisible, and dense as Hegel

itinerant iterant

easy to be Tiresias

mendicant hierophant

smile for the ephemera machine

& air writes the epigraph