Subs & trains,

trails & lanes

keep us in line

when we give up the brains.

They lead us where we hope to get,

more assuring than the governors we’ve let

dig us new tunnels,

under the bridges long by crashed.

They say too many blocks on the road,

the prince we voted for

just turns back to toad.

We killed the snake

just a few months back,

only to drink acid rain.

Sure frogs can look nice,

but take my advice;

They jump from one place to another,

only clue left is their giggle.

Snakes & toads excite me little,

like the sting of bees for the honey.

Early spring brings none,

just like the state budget,

our  non-existent money.

It’s always give us more time

til the sun comes out,

cuz it’s winter all year round.

So we put on thick coats,

the color is black,

in this market no one lacks .

Officials try to cut these straws short.

Thirst for revenge drives us the most.

Ledge that leads from heart to action,

bridge built off of the fractions.

For the old times sake

we don’t recognize,

but it’s in our blood.

We grab the rake,

cry & rave

for the justice we never had.

All trails lead away from this city

some day soon,

like yesterday’s tomorrow,

boom !  – No more pitty.

Then we’ll take the subs & trains,

lines & lanes,

make them our trails out of this place!

I can’t help the way I was born,

& no, don’t feel torn – by what you feel ’bout me!

It’s your shit to deal with, mine to smell,

but I can tell – you’re not well ’round here /(me),

probably uncomfortable as hell.

I hope I didn’t lose a friend tonite,

cuz I dunno what u thinkin’,

can’t read your mind,

so “WHY?” is your heart sinkin’ ?

Is it in light of my secret?

Oh-fuck!, then, so be it….,

what does it change ’bout you and me,

thought our friendship will eternally live /(eternally lives).

So wide, so deep-ly you anxiously be.

So hide behind your smile,

while your tears start to flow,

like a mighty rivers tide-

-so wide, so deep, a rush of water,

streams of life, wash all that matter…

-…mattered … a minute ago…

Dreams shattered, angry thoughts gone/(have) scattered…

New seeds I’ve planted, fruit in Eden I’ve eaten,

…raw/(young) hopes well watered(,) to be grown,

as time passes by …. no return …

So what’s it gonna be, u & me picking that tree?

Full of hope(,) throw away the rope my friend,

I can find better grounds to be desperate .

Here, there you go – fruit of mature aid.

Eat away! – Can’t start a day without it….

Say um weird? Fuck it, so be it….

(But) I’m happy and you’re not…..

come, come …. join mey/(me, my) love! ….

You suck on the cigarette like mama’s breast,

poison in it connects with such in your soul.

Smokescreen turns life green on your side.

Brings dreams (that) never appeared real to begin with…,

Blunt truths open your eyes wide-

-to a small hit of sun’s ray-

-like baby’s wish for a safe today!

U see them ashes fall to the ground,

…tis where you shall return.

Master of your own decay – fire in your hands,

wealth leaving by thine command!

Every blow lands it in air – somewhere out-there ….what do you care?

….

With the fire in your mouth you lose breath,

your veins spoon with death.

But if you put the breath to the fire-

-you don’t need/(need not) much attire-

and winds soon will/(will soon) spread your dreams,

so you will always live.

Later see yourself sprout (out) from new roots/ (with new roots)

places you’ve never dared (to) place your foot…. – somewhere out-there…what do you care?!

subway poem
on the subway
i learn something new everyday

on the subway
i see things i wouldn’t see
if i was locked up in my car

focused on the road
for instance
right now
i keep staring at this man
with the craziest pointy mustache
and a stern look on his face
(i bet he’s german)
teenage girls can’t help but giggle
while others laugh
he is very out of place

something
i probably shouldn’t confess
when i get off the subway
if i’m walking up the stairs
passing catholic school girls
i can see up their skirts

on the subway
i’ve learned that people
don’t like talking to ’strangers’
maybe if they opened up a little

they wouldn’t feel so isolated
most days
i can look around
and see at least
five people
with i-pods
unaware of their
surroundings

most mornings
i can hear conversations
in at least
two different languages
even though i don’t always
understand
i still feel connected
©lauren corindia 2008

jan.28.10

i forgot how good skin feels to lips
in the box of who i am i don’t do this

where i’ve come from love precedes lust
and lust comes after trust

but we
just went on a backwards date
where dessert was the first course

and of course
i get that for most people the terms
love and sex are not synonymous

but in the box of who i am
or at least of who i was before this
they were
so this feels strange to me

it’s been two days since our hips
locked eyes on the dance floor

i didn’t know it was possible
to miss someone you don’t know

I didn’t think i would ever find someone
who would want to get to know me again

i didn’t want you until you said
“slow down.  we’ve barely skipped a beat
this whole week.”

so teach me how to date

cos last time i checked
curling up beside someone
night after night
is called something else
something that rhymes with…girlfriend

and i know you said
“labels are for soup cans”
so let’s keep it that way

i want you to kiss me everywhere

and in this new box
of who i am

it’s not bad
it just is

holland landing         jan. 1. 10

blue new year’s eve moon
freshly covered vines of snow
dancing, chanting, be (ing)

-lauren corindia

“love isn’t black and white”
sound waves rattled in disgust
as these words
uttered in Germany
crossed the ocean
crashed into the phone
and hit my ears

just last year
you took a direct flight
from Frankfurt to Toronto
and told me you’d never let me go

so i’d like to think
your change of tune
came from someplace inside of you
i never got to see
that this black and white love song
is a relic of what love was like
before you met me

because
it works in your favour
because
it is convenient

because
my love for you
was never grey
and i thought you
liked it that way

my love was never
half-assed
in between
wavering
hanging in the balance
it was never unclear
but if that is really how
you experience love
if your love for me was really grey
then i don’t know
what to say
except that i was
wrong

i was wrong about you

why would anyone want to
live in a world of grey love?

nevermind
i never liked that colour anyway

it is sidewalks
and cigarette ashes

it is Vancouver
for seven months of the year

grey love is dirty
between black and white

it is vague
it is murky
it is muddy
it is cloudy

grey love is keeping one
foot outside the door at
all times in the event
that an emergency escape
feels necessary

you are dirty
with her smell on your skin
with her taste on your lips

you are dirty
with the imprint of her
embrace on your heart

you are dirty
from nights of intimate
conversations with her
on your tongue

the thought of you loving me grey
makes me shudder
because
i always loved you
in technicolour

©lauren corindia 2009

On the way back from the beach
tiptoeing through this coconut graveyard
flip-flops pinched between fingers
because it’s easier to dance barefoot

He said, miss, you gon’ leave and forget we.
You ain’t never coming back.

Halfway between home and all day
running dizzy on the beach
stomach sick with too much ginnup flesh sucked from bone
teeth stained yellow with curry and cheeks
turned purple with ducking down in the river racing
to see who could hold their breath longer

The day still stuck in her hair and washed
pink all over her,
her flip-flops two watermelons
dragging from her fingers
she opened her mouth to protest
but her tongue lay curled up sleeping
deferred to her teeth
who sucked the spit slow clean from her lips

Miss, you don’t know nothing.
you gon’ go back and you ain’t never think of we again.

All arms and legs stretched thin like chewed bubble gum
his body bent with broken breath and too many words collected
eyes stuffed full with so many stories
she worried sometimes that the seams would rip
and his eyes would spill forever

Miss watch!

A ghost lay on the ground
its body crunched like a fistful of paper
belly full of sand and the tip of her toe
cut through yesterday’s bones

Ain’t you never seen a snake skin before miss?

the silhouette of a snake big enough to wrap
around her neck and steal breath with one squeeze
she crouched, looked into where his eyes might be
considered asking if he missed his skin
if hours later he froze with nostalgia about the layers left behind
and wished he could run as he slid back to the place
where his body suddenly collapsed in the middle of the road
tried to scrape up the bits of self as disposable
as eyelashes without wishes
before slithering home to a lover lost
who slams the door in the face of this sudden stranger

you know miss, them snakes
they kill you in one bite
they all over the place
you got to watch where you going

She reached out and grabbed a fingerful of him
slipped his yesterday skin into her pocket
pressed him deep inside until dropped memories and creek water
glued her pants to her thigh

Don’t forget, I beat you, Salliem
I held my breath for sixty-seven seconds underwater.
New record.

That ain’t nothing, miss, he said
I just let you win.
I can just keep on holding it for as long as I want
keep on holding it until I decide to let go.

The next morning she dumped yesterday’s clothes in a bucket
filled halfway with soap because more bubbles equals more clean
and she soaked her clothes faded
turned her pockets inside out
scrubbed them paper thin
then hung her pants in the sun to dry.

The light reflects off his eyes
Showing who she is inside

Beneath lies a chest of treasure
Wisdom of an unknown measure

Always living in denial
He screams beneath her plastic smile

Fighting about shades of grey
Slowly dying everyday

Causing him to be depressed
Getting along how he knows best

A battle with humanity
The biggest fight with he and she

Narcissistic and so vile
She really goes the extra mile

Shooting stars and crushed dreams
The boy inside that’s never seen

Standing on a mountain peak
Valleys of feelings lie beneath

Sweet T and epiphanies
At last, he is finally free

Granddaddy used the mason jars for homemade holy water.

We’ve seen him bring back to life

what was long since buried

and speak truths in tongues–

we still work to decode.

Donovan catches fireflies

in the jars now.

Everyday they scrimmage–

training for when the dark swarms,

like fleets of night,

like locusts on a desert in bloom

and split him clean

down the middle.

and smash the mason jar

in his chest.

Sew him back quickly.

He pleads:

I want to stand electric.

We maneuver these days like the sun

came out in blackface.

A smiling

synthetic exclamation.

The audience doesn’t know

if the tears come from the hurt

of the heart collapsing in on itself

or the honest of bottom

belly laughter.

The name you scream into the pillow

does not know the body beside you–

We are parallel conversations bent

on collision.

Bound to our shames even in exaltation. Amen

The jar held seeds

dreamt to be forests,

but we heard how that story ends.

From outside the garden

mommy says you can’t fly in the face of god.

We’re still working out the kinks–

in these wings stitched from phantom kisses,

ill-fitting compasses that stall on themselves

sometimes,

and the spilt innards of mason jars

we found along the way.

Yeah, there are a few cuts,

but under the right light

these wounds blossom

honest.

In the meantime–

we dance.

A storm to drown out the sirens’

shrieking fits, mourning

the moments martyred

in the name of clean breaks.