scum squat

if the save the sperm fanaticks

get their way in all fairness

they should protect the viable sperm

in the male as well

no flushing this life

under penalty of punishment

some repeat offenders

might have to have

their hands

glued in their pockets

take the door of the executive washrooms

send scum patrols

scouring the neighborhood

you wouldn't be able

to get an anti-masturbation bill

thru parliament all their hands glued in their pockets

no secretaries no lobbyists

swallowing bucketsful imagine

that's freedom of religion

neighborhood watch

would police arrest police?

the fundamentalist zealots

could blockade

bus depot toilets

if you're conspiring

to violate the civil rights

of these thousands of lives

by having your semen swallowed

you might be thawt a spermicidal maniac

the Prime Minister himself

would rent tantric videotapes

Do these look like real words?
do they apelike ache like real words?
do they take you
do they wind you
twist you these words like real
pain you reel salmon thumper sword fish
hurt you hook you words

sighn

stop
buzz off
left turn only
less
less
moreXess

it didn't phase me
he was already disgusting

I Never Meta morphose
I didn't like.

Zonko reminds you ...

SMOKE FISH
NOT CIGARETTES

A letter from Billy to ?

Dear Friends,

   As a poet and artist I've been involved in organizing cultural events in Vancouver for the last fifteen years. I'd like to be employed by the social planning department on a six month temporary basis to create an exhibition tentatively titled "No Place To Live: Focus on The Homeless."

   Artists, Architects, Inventors as well as the general public would be invited to submit their practical (or fanciful) responses to this shameful byproduct of redevelopement. The exhibition would be installed in city hall as well as other venues thoughout the city. I believe I could convince the private sector to contribute the lion's share of the resources and funds required for the successful mounting of this exhibition. Maybe some fresh ideas would inspire our political leaders, if one useful idea arises from the exhibition it would have been worth the time and effort.

   As I said I'd like to be employed on a six month temporary basis, I'd like to be paid $10 an hour (as a social assistance recipient I believe the province would be willing to pay 35% of that).

   All I'd need is a desk, a telephone, access to the secretarial pool and the photocopy machine. I'd like to start in November. Does this seem possible to you?

   I'm sure that Dorothy Metcalfe at the Vancouver Art Gallery 682-4668, Henry Bull at the Western Front 876-9343 or Stan Persky 555-5555* would be happy to provide any references you require.

   Thanks for your kind consideration.

               Sincerely,

                     Billy Little

A (Love) Letter from Andrea Erickson to Billy 1990

Billy...

Billy is the grandfather, the father, the friend.

I love him and want him to know that, feel that.

Does he know to what respect I love him,

how much I love him.

That I really truly deeply care abound/for him?

It's like we dance around talking and being together

and when I sit here and consciously think about my feelings

for him, I say to myself "why can't I ever just break through

the barrier that seems to be there?" & say "Hey I really love you,

I have huge love for you." & respect for you as a brilliant artist.

Yes it's actually and honestly brilliant.

I love your off beat/on beat way.

I love your words and your mind and your soul.

I love you being the grandfather.

Everything you do and are is totally great with me.

I accept all of you.

I love you unconditionally.

I love you.

You, Billy Little.

Maybe I don't say it because... well why?

I sit here and I ask myself why?

Fear of rejection?

No and I guess yes to that one, too.

I'm sick of feeling love for people and not letting them know.

Maybe I'd get a "So, you love me? So what?"

Or maybe I feel like you wouldn't believe that the love is exactly unconditional.

Well it is.

Whether I am believed or understood, I know my truth.

I sit here and analyze me and Billy.

Every time I've come here since I got myself together,

I've wanted to express my love, and every time I leave,

I feel like I didn't get it across.

It's always "see ya" and on the other side of the "see ya"

is the repression of the real feelings.

Then there is this self doubt.

What is the big deal that you love this guy?

Well, it is a "big deal" to me in a sense because

the feelings are good, and I feel good about them.

Here I am babbling and analyzing and most of all,

loving him.

I started out writing this to him, Billy, you, Billy and

I couldn't just straight write "Dear Billy, I love you",

I have to go on and on and justify and etc.

So I am giving you this whole thing, to let you know

that I don't just come here and "see ya".

I love you.

Matt and I talk about it and you and his love and my love for you.

Then when I see you I dance around about it.

I do have respect for you and your work.

You are so many "things" and I love them all.

I guess my biggest fear is that you wont believe me,

and that's "stupid".

Why fear the truth Andrea?

I have looked long at the truths and lies in my life.

I am in truth now (and still babbling towards an end).

So, I am letting go of all the "whatevers", and letting you know

that I deeply love you.

(I think I've said it all, in alot of ways, well that's the way love is,

it's repetitive)

Love All ways,

          Andrea

Our Minds Work So Weird

We wait for the worries to come back into our minds.
A whole new world is waiting for us to discover.
To be amazed by the world's secrets and mysteries, that we may never know.
Us humans could really be aliens.
History could all be made up.
Maybe books are just our imagination.
Our minds work so weird.

written by Moshe Little Guient July 22 2010, (Moshe is Zonko's youngest grandson)

A Little Yellow Casket

the casket of the future
will have better lighting
so the worms can
read your resume
memorize your triumphs
will have bone soluble drugs
horocides misting periodically
by the time you die
caskets will have everything
digital postcards
winking and huggable tombstones

Imperatives

breathe
eat
drink
void
read
ask
love
weep
laugh
forget
die

The Committee of Correctness Central Road Chrome Island, B.C.

Dear X,
   We are saddened to be required to inform you, that these writings which you may think are poems are not.
   And sadder yet to remind you of the penalty for distributing unapproved
IMAGINARY POEMS

sonnet/ghasp valentine (for U, ugly as u iz)

lizzen kidden fyoulish is

of the ezzens even

valuble anticipated even

enabling all mbracing Kayressing chissing

zensational thirty finga whispa thin romeo

translucent gab lubricant jeyev

luce snort sy love iz st range

or pennytrait sundercome

vaginable penisphilia

enviable hysterectal askidental

xeptional njoymeantal st eerieo

ewrecked efecked shiv

ering dryppe dryppe

grip lyppe letter wryppe

dialectics 69

why I want you back.
why I never wanted you in the first place.

Doodly Squat

Are you nothing.
I'm less.
I haven't made bisquits in 6 weeks

you found a pencil in the storm

and clung for life
it lied to you
it lifted you
it lightened you
it listening to your lies
it loosened your waistband
and loosens now
your juicey loving
some pencil

Sick Song of the Socred

is the extremest melody
me first me first me first
the song of the swine
fuck everybody else
who don't have yatchs
or shovels
the song of the slime
slithering through the
lobby of the Empress
fuck everybody
that don't have 2 strong arms
to dig their own graves
fuck those union troublemakers
get their fingers
out of our pie


the song of the certifiable neanderthals
snaking out of
the cloakrooms of the legislature
so what I guess I'm saying is
recognize the Premier's
song and dance
listen to it quick
because it's never
going to make
the top 40
it's not going to to make
the hit parade
what we're after
is better lives
not more money, profits,
antiques, extinct animal luxuries
better lives
money can't buy
me love

I was born in a book
look look
my heart is an open book
born to read
and born to sing
the blues
they took a reading
on the meter
and found out I read you
do you read me partner
the reading is mutual
read this it's so soft
read you later alligator
there's read enough
in this stew
to starve an army
I'll read you
on the corner
of story street
in the fourth corner
did you read
the ferry to nanaimo
take me to your reader
shut up and read me alone
my phants were read
my palm was read
the reading rights
of the silent scream
every time you read
about a sucessful
revolution
the first thing they do
is teach the people
how to read
read me the riot act
you can read a horse
to water
but you can't make it
write

My name is Balloon

Balloon the pretty kitty, they can call me
Marilyn, but I know how I feel.
I feel like a yellow helium
balloon when I put the 
pump in my mouth all light
and floating in the air and
getting bigger and bigger and
lighter and lighter and higher
and higher until a whole 
fleet of 747's could fly into
me at which point of course
I explode back to the size of 
the pretty pussy I am at the
end of my leash

zonko

Vengence for De Pape (Sammy Sammy)

I'm sorry for all the things
I've done in my life
that upset you
and will try
not to let it happen again
even though I know
the passionate response
even in it's cruelty
makes life more real
my life is too real as it is
I need peace
and trust and
good loving
a laugh in the morning
a dance in the afternoon

absence of evidence
is not evidence of absence

quaffing a blitz at the spot

pouring the beer is easy
lugging the cases
you get used to
it's the psychological hassle
that get's to you

Interviews from the afterlife

after 
life


after
light


glow
figure

four qorm
from
form
farm


warm
form


forewarmed
is four armed

forewarm
arch

your career
in writing


as soon
as you got
paper the 
ribbon
ran out
as sonn
as you got
ribbon
the electric
failed

Awl
Gots
Chillun
Got
Ribbon

Humdrum Bum

often
when stinking
of freedom
you'll run into
an old guy you
knew but
couldn't have
any sympathy
for

zonko

shopping maul

not that
different
different
different
INVEST
-igate
the Shock Market

zonko

You Big Nothing (a pome for m)

don't give us
none of that
wonder gism
none of that
honeybucket
poetry sucker
none of that
sizzling sliced 
heart

zonko

X is

the name of 
that poem I did
n't write tonight
part of that famous 
book I didn't write
all month


and goobledeegoop
is the poem I didn't 
write last night
the one you wrote
instead

zonko

and then
I tole her
come get
your
minimum
daily requirement

zonko

twist top tilly

trot 
your truth
off to
the teeth
over there

zonko

a spell on you
a heart on
from form

zonko

alpha bytes (continued)

sing sign
sighn
angle
wings
sine qua
non
stink or swim

zonko

wedding song (for Elke & Clint, their union)

I dreamt I saw al ginsberg
he was climbing down that tree you know the tree
climbing down the tree
naked as a baby
beckoning to me
billy babe says he
please pass these words
pass these words on for me:
kindness is the poem
can you finish it
what kind are you
all one of a kind
kindness provokes
kindness spills over
kindness returns plenty
kind and kinder
unkindness echoes
boomboomerangs
kindness is a few words
before kiss
in the dictionary
read slowly
if you don't get the kiss
before you finish 

zonko

Mayqueen's Dead, Long Live The Mayqueen

a kid's king no kidding he stood where no one stood
where no one should
he stood the taste of time
he understood
he didn't want to understand
he wanted to overstand
like his prosecutors overstood
pissing off the smartypants
and the too cute by half
the disingenuous the conniving
the craven and corrupt

zonko

MAMA

thanks for the swallowtail,
thanks for the smell of the species iris
thanks for the lilac's attack
thanks for the ears
that hear the heron's hoarse compleynt,
the raptors' whistles the loons' hilarity,
thanks for the lips whispering thanks for the tongue
thanks for the kicks thanks for the kisser
and thanks for the nose that brings me back
to the herb and the rose thanks for the womb
thanks for the fingers thanks for the toes
thanks for the coming and going
thanks for teeth chatterin ice cool life

Zonko

Alpha Byte

bark
bang
banned
bard


can't
call
cancun
cancelled
canzone


dig
para
digm


each
easy
entr
existence


friend
frequently
fried
friend


growl
grown now
grunting
guesses


honest
honey
hump
hunger


if
id
is
in
it
idiot


jack
jolts
juicey
luce


kake
kiss
kommen
komrade


late
lift
light
list

zonko (sometime, 1987-1990)

Nobody called.
I'm sorry.
The phone was busy all day.

 zonko (same)

sit still 
and watch yourself
walk away

zonko (same)

The Midget

was a restaurant
Borges went to get a hamburger
he couldn't even see
his picture being taken

zonko (same)

The Void

precedes me
exceeds me
succeeds me
this is it
parinoia
paves the pathway
towards satori.


the master replies,
if you are thinking of
"towards satori"
it is not satori
you are thinking about.
satori is here.
can you go towards here?
start walking!

zonko (same journal)

The Fourth Eye (for J. Pethick)

No two ways about it.
Seventy one views
of the same tree
hang somewhere behind
the transparent plastic
tacked above the window
seeing is believing- seventy one views
the mountains float
upside down on the water
or pendicolar to
the mountain
ninety degrees
blue sky and clouds
mountains
and water
outlining infinity

zonko (same)

I'd better drop dead is what she said.
After I'd already said, You better get off it.
So it was goodbye my trump and bitter pill,
B.B. King's "The thrill is gone" ironically
echoing from the plastic speaker of the transistar
I'd turned on to help me survive the packing
which was over so fast that I thought for a minute
this must be a dream.


Climbing into the taxi two hands full of suitcase, typewriter in my teeth,
I thought of her beautiful body and held back the tears, just.
I thought of the snarl in her final fury and shook my head.
I didn't have the foggiest where I was going.
What planet was I contemplating.


Louise was the kind of woman you wanted to meet when
you had two weeks and a fireplace and a
clear willingness to wear out your face smiling.
I'm not quite sure what it was about me that had
landed me the part of the juggler early on, but there I was,
as usual, getting out of the cab, teeth full of typewriter,
hands full of luggage and head full of mean thoughts about
the woman who'd fingered me out the door as the last act
of an eight year minor tragicomedy.
And there she was behind her big red eyes in the rain
in front of the Sylvia Hotel, titling her head slightly and saying,
maybe you know.
Ther was no time to say, maybe I'd like to because of the acrobatics required to drop my bag and catch my typewriter right at my shoetops
after my teeth forgot what they were supposed to be doing.

zonko (same journal)

Demon Eyes

Gadzooks!
Goo glued
these eyeballs
to your flying smile

zonko (same same)

Realize

this is not me.
I have lifted
this image of me
from the garbage
and uncrumpled it
reclaiming your me

zonko (from same journal)

forkless

a knife-like life
a fork-like talk
a spoon-like croon
a plate-like fate
a bowl-like goal
a cup jump up
a glass class grasp

zonko (from a old journal, never before published)

You Friends

you can't make your friends behave as you want
you wouldn't make your friends behave as you want
if you could they wouldn't be your friends
if you would you wouldn't be their friends


your friends can't behave as they want
your friends can't make you behave as they want
if they could they wouldn't be your friend
if they would you wouldn't be their friends
you wouldn't know them

zonko (sometime in december 2008)

cereus (for pam)

                                                                blooms

                                                              one sunset

                                                            five years later

                                                                 delicate

s

t

e

m

                                                          gravity defying

                                                            blossom

                                                          as big and

                                                         as quick as

                                                          a bruise

 zonko

ThistleGetYou? (for Cezanne & Linda Jane)

Hearty beasts, thisles,
with the will of iron,
as if they'd spent centuries
shrunken into their microenvelopes
crossing whole solar systems


intent on that lonnnng 
drink of dirt they'll have
soon as they get to your garden
their cohorts thinking similarly
on the same solar winds.
biodefenders?
come from alpha centauri?
to root, acclimatize,
return to their mature stature
(near the size of homo sapiens!);
keeping vigil
to defend the endangered potatoes,
tortured, maimed and boiled potatoes
to extract blood sacrifice,
interstellar justice
for the voracious tubervores


awaiting the blood of the gardener
anticipating
the throbbing heartbeat of the potato eater
sure to be there by twilight

zonko

Death's Door Is Wide

 

maybe they'll kill you
two or three times
stab you, drown you,
run you over
and give you a job
before you make it
to death's dirtcovered
dooooorrrrrwwwway


zen what?
zen you is delicious!
at long last you made it!
you're on the menu
for the worms

zonko

untruth untongued . have tungue will babble . peerless teutongued . tonglued up in goo

it took me a week more to move out than i wanted it to but moving must have been what zeno was up to when he couldn't get those arrows to reach the target i'd still be packing if it wasn't for my little boy, Matt came, he packed, he loaded with a bit of help from Cornelius and today finally i've got the plywood for my bed and the rug and my bagel tray (which doesn't fit in

this oven, darn darn) Dave drove me home i labeled soap for Colleen this afternoon after cleaning up at ford cove and visiting the recycling depot i don't envision myself here for long, i'll probably housesit for mary and gordon until christmas, then maybe i'll be moving into the judge's place loren, i like her,

i'm not sure if i'd have to live the interrupted life (out in

summer?) but that might be incentive to travel, orvieto

here i come.  or if

i could just drop dead in time for summer, do you think life gets easier when you're dead? do you think the dead are spared gravity or quadrupled gravity?

(from a letter from) zonko