journal 19/01/11 (vancouver)
Hangover sky, quickly descending night. The radiant ovation of nightfall, one eagle circling its image in the grey water, one eagle giving us luck. There’s a jungle vascillation, thick heat & crosshatch of lethargy, butter on my fingers, a liquored overturn of outrigger gut, animal reflex & a certain tough talk. Make me a wilderness queen, all dark beat & bhangra wingspan. I’m reduced but also maximalist vision, dreaming big in the crook of your arm, factory vista & a continued fever, drug-stewed past & the thumbed smog of industry, splintered still life. Here: fingernails & fallen hair, parkas & chapbooks, city re-painted in the impending rain, darkness ringed round in neverending footpath, logs & sand. You kiss me with half your face, put your fingers inside me sitting in a parked car. Ballcap & flannel, streetboy slouch — blood & metal make a stew in your mouth…
I’m re-learning silence, no detail is too small; I’m re-learning space & the echo of the spine within it. The night is nothing but atmosphere & the city burns galactic beyond the bend of the bay. Here, again, we’re livid, all bleeding assholes & irses emptied out, barely a junkie with the jonesing of one, brick, mortar, feathers, glass, more teeth growing in daily.
