the healing of the shattered twig
above the grass in my violin
above the nails in my violin
watch the weather tear through my violin
as the garlic
the garlic
festers in the space beneath my violin

and the green onions
are hanged in the wardrobe
and the grey carrots
are hanged in the wardrobe
and the orange carrot
lonely in the bunch
cries out against the night
against the despair
the lost voice
of the isolated vegetable

and the flowery vase
is hanged in the wardrobe
and the violin bow
is hanged in the wardrobe
and all is lost
and none is harmed
and everything makes sense

Fear of Flying

am an airport sandwich
and obviously
I cost fifteen dollars
because not just anybody
can take deli ham
and call it “roast pork”
and cram a bunch of it
between two slabs of overly dry bread
with some carrots and cucumbers and
rather a large amount of cilantro

Come on
you know you want me
you need me
mostly because there is no Tim Hortons in the International lounge
and you basically have to choose between
several insanely expensive sandwiches
and a four-dollar muffin

Savour me
you sucker
since this is the last food you’ll be seeing for a while
except for the small bag of peanuts
you’re thinking of buying as well

It costs only nine dollars
and will give you indigestion


My love for you
is as deep as the grease at the bottom of this frying pan
and almost as slimy

I need to embrace you
and caress you awkwardly
and squeeze you in such a way that we both become uncomfortable

Have this carrot
as a token of my love
and the recent health-food craze

Let us join sweaty hands
and skip off into the kitchen of desire
which is also rather greasy, I hear