January 7th, 2010... Dear Women, I'm Sorry... the fundraiser.

JANUARY 7th, 2010.

Casbah Lounge, Hamilton, Ontario.

Come out...

The Dear Women, I'm Sorry Fundraiser.
"Raising money to release a book."

I wrote my first collection of poetry and am planning to independently release it while shopping it around to different houses. I managed to get some really great friends involved in this, and we're throwing a little party to raise some money to get this done. Please come out and support your local arts, who knows I may even owe you an apology.

Acts included for the night:

Gavin Gardiner (of Wooden Sky)
http://www.myspace.com/thewoodensky

Joel Elliott (of Thin Lines)
http://www.myspace.com/joelelliott

Ben Somer
http://www.myspace.com/bensomer

Matt Paxton
http://www.myspace.com/mattpaxton

Dan Delaplante (of Marble Index)
http://www.myspace.com/musicalaska

Kyle McEwan

Karmacul Change
http://www.myspace.com/karmaculchange



featuring poetry sets by Jenson Walters, and Marc Disaverio.

Oh, and I'll be doing a reading somewhere in the middle of all of that.
If you have any requests for poems you'd like to hear please feel free to check out my facebook notes, or my blog ( http://dearwomenimsorry.blogspot.com ) and then message me with you request and I'll do my very best to include your selection into my set.

Thank you, and I hope to see all of you out for this great night of folk music peppered by poetry.

Doors are 9 pm.
Cover is $8
Music starts at 9:30 pm.

Poster Design by The Billy Pozeg

Your fever.

Oh shush now it can't already be eleven thirty. You just laid down fetal your shivering body makes me weak in my shivering knees. The cat scratched in through the window with the breezes; the cat scratched a fever right into me. I asked whoever was watching us if one of those nine lives could make you breathe. I asked whoever was watching us if there was one last miracle set aside for me.

Our shack cracked wide open like a coffin every time you allowed yourself to let out a scream. The walls moved softly all around us and to calm you I steeped some whiskey with your tea. The landlords who lived and loved in this valley must have delivered you here to me. With fingers weak from the trembling I cooled a facecloth and held it your brow as you fell back asleep.

It took the sun to show we're never as lucky as we would ever have hoped to be. I prayed to God as the blinds were drawn all around me, may the dark let my voice carry up and through these old rafters with the ghosts we never managed to keep under wraps or under our blankets; their flapping wings and their high pitched shrieks.

We hoped that with winter's falling your temperature would drop through the degrees that caused all the snow down here to melt from off the branches of these naked trees. Could we break this fever? Would we get our dream? Would that God ever come down and intervene? Would he stay your execution? Would he leave you here alone with me?

A single waving hand.

a simple gesture, a

single waving hand,

come! come! come!

not inasmuch as we

had hoped "hallelujah!"

now holler back.

the frosted glass of

the patio door

the children etched

into with warm fingers.

the neon lights of

our abundant holiday

fade into the night sky

through the rearview mirror

it goes unnoticed

as all eyes are occupied

by a simple gesture, a

single waving hand.

Watch!

Watch! careful eyes compelled to be carefree

to bear witness;

to bear children's views on adult situations;

to not bear the burden of boredom

or to be blinded by the details;

the glistening engagement ring

finding its way down the drain.

Watch! behind your eyelids what exists

inside of a blink

the little vignette played out in front of you

that, like deja vu

seems to repeat confused;

the glistening engagement ring

finding its way down the drain.

Engaged to the idea of exploration

of making maps of ourselves

to never get lost along the way

to refrain from the poisons that made us

feel like ourselves even with

the glistening engagement ring

finding its way down the drain.

To have and have not.

To have and have not.

She sat cross-legged in the grasses, before a marsh, pulling the petals from a daisy whose
two remaining limbs outstretched like arms spread wide for a hug…
Did he love her or, more likely, did he love her not.

She spun the stem, envisioning it as she once was: a blooming ballerina caught up in a
sequence of perfect pirouettes.

The white blades spinning into a pinwheel propeller blur, lifting her off into what she
hoped was the furthest corners of his mind, if just there and not his mouth.

She could see her name, wet with spit, on his lips, laying under every word he rolled over
her, and she wanted to stay there.

Smiles in Mexico.

We managed to coast through the desert in the same way we'd been coasting through life. So we made it by the skin of our teeth. We watched the vultures float cutting through the sky that day like the serrated blade of a knife; circling their feast. We weren't sure where we were headed. I'm not sure we could remember where we'd been, but we knew where we were. We were in the pockets of those we were indebted. We were hiding from the possibility of being seen. We were not welcoming of new encounters. We stuck to the paths the border jumpers made; I guess we hoped that our "American dream" was in Mexico. So we confused the crowd of doubters who were surely waiting back in Omaha in the cool shade sipping bitter lemonade out of mason jars and trying to will us home. But they don't understand that sometimes you go so far that you simply can't turn around, or stay put, whatever. They have never felt the insides of a car, aimless, four wheels on the ground ready to get you, well wherever. The chain link fence couldn't have been anymore then fifteen feet tall and wasn't wrapped in the barbwire we were more than ready for. We walked along hoping to find a door and when we didn't see one at all we scaled the fence and hopped down to Mexico's dirt floor. And that catches you up, and that's where we are now. Please keep your mouth shut no one can find out that we're staying here to make it in our new home. I just hope they weren't right and we'll find our smiles in Mexico.

Some inopportune moment.

some inopportune moment--

a fly being shooed away from a broken window

by the flailing limbs of a black widow

whose web was wasted by the broken glass

at some inopportune moment

and so the fly got to pass.

This fuss.

The paper thin walls only veiled the sound of beaten hearts buried underground now and where they couldn't get up they ventured further down. It wasn't until after we missed them that we'd figured it out. The bruised, like birds, all move South with the wind at their backs and with wagging tongues in their mouths. They keep to the shore, afraid that they'll drown if they get caught in the wake and then carried out into the lake bottom feed with the trout; already dead what's this fuss all about?

Putty knife.

a rusted putty knife lays to waste

with the zebra mussels whose mouths agape

catch the discarded flies of the furrowed brow

before the bay where they were spat out

Make love.

I want to say I love you because I'm pretty sure I do but every time I part these lips the words never make it through. I assume you know based on how I act. I mean I worship where you walk; I kiss the floorboards as they crack and I listen when you talk. But that's not enough if you call it love there are concessions to be made. No, it's not enough if you want to call it love then surely you just obey. I delayed. I stuttered, stammered upon every word and you got caught up in the syllables you heard. That's the point and we know that now; it just took so long to figure out that words are just air that fills our mouths and it don't mean much to push them out. Love is in your hands. Love is how it felt. Love is under your hands and how you make love melt. Make love weak in the knees. Make love for the birds. Make love for the bees. Make love with everyone you meet as you pass them on the street. Make love with your smile, make your smile wide and wet and allow everyone you see to enter into it. Hold them with your tongue or push them through your teeth. I mean it's your love now it only started here with me. Now make it flourish and now watch it grow; witness this love blossom and sway to and fro... so long as fro is to your window ; so long as fro is to your door where you'll find me knocking with more love than before; where you'll find me giving birth to a love so sure that it shivers in the cross hairs even though it burns. Now I want to say I love because I'm pretty sure I do, and I suppose I would but they're just words and they won't do.