my solitude's a sketchbook
inside my iris carvings a
sun god hangs like a weather
vane streaked redgold as a 
crepe paper doll the night 
rustles two green eyes in a 
sketchbook burst blank pages
falling bank knife-wise to a
floor in a melancholy voice
say you are all going to a 
tonight my candles today i 
wished a lightning city a
piece of rain like string 
pulling the pavement up a 
green canadian flag there 
on the blue maple manhole a 
leaf jumps like archimedes 
bayou ... whose voice is a
breathless sun a pencilled 
sketch honey in teacups a
squatter's house pavements 
blacker candles going out a 
dark night sheds no tears

(1992-93?)