Thursday, 16 August 2018


(I read this aloud at my grandmother's funeral on Monday. I feel like some people who couldn't make it would like to read it.)


Gramma Reetz.

Who was Lois.
What’s her middle name?
(Carolynne Jean I found out earlier.)

Tucking me in super tight
Marshmallow squares
The only time I ever ate peanut butter as a kid.
I love the stuff now...

The smell of cigarettes in the morning
Tinted with fresh buns. Buttered lightly.
And, if I’m being honest... a little dry.

Country music on an AM radio
That morning Saskatchewan summer sun shining in
The ride from Saskatoon was 4 hours.
I’d always get turned around at the midpoint diner.

You birthed us all. All twenty something of us...
without counting on my fingers, I figured...

You taught us all.

You were Echo opposite a Narcissistic world.
Simple. Clean. Smiling.
The farm.
Miss Kitty, that cat.
The smell of hogs... bittersweet in my nose at least.
Like Saskatoon berry pie
After picking ‘em on Lake Blackstrap
While the men fished.

Old Archie’s
And metal cars.
Those belonging to one of you...
Or all of you...
All of us.

As it’s passed us
We keep these badges
Like memories
And we’re reminded
Of what holds us
Until we, too
Look to where we’re going:
I guess that’s what you get
When angels raise angels.
(More angels)

I told her one time she was beautiful.
It was at Bud’s wedding.
Later, she donned shimmering red lipstick.
So inconsistent, right?

She’s one of the most beautiful people I’ve known.
I’m so lucky.
I’m so fucking lucky.
Thank you, Grandma.
I love you.

She seemed to show up
When you needed her most
Like a hero.
On a scale of hero to villain
She layeds nowhere in between.

Saturday, 16 June 2018

With philosophy!

Andy Warhol Who must’ve loved the colour Silver And Kilroy Who was therein Made convex Lines From polymers therein: How to be an artist. If my language is Above my thoughts Somehow And my lexicon Limited, How can I unite Fiction, fantasy Satire And reality? With philosophy!

Friday, 25 May 2018

Beta Test Battle Rap

Like an Eastern European
You’re opening 
Night, not

I’m strong enough 
Without it
I don’t need your strength lie
I’m human. Got it?
Like robot 
But, floral
Can’t touch me 
I’m coral.
Symphonies, Goro
With frequencies 
Lifeless: immortal.
I’m diamond 
You coal. 
Share ciphers 
With Cole
With Kanye
Got soul?
Got dough?
Get low.

Raised on myth
I’m a grown ass man 
Braised y’alls briss
I don’t need your clan
Army of one:
Armed forceps 
Flexed biceps 
Triceratop triceps 
I’m burdened
Not flightless.

Rap hip hop
No accents
I wore so many masks 
I’m askin’
Who was I 
That one time
Those Eras soaked 
In social coats.
Paint brought me
Now I’m not me 
Much better
Much better.
Something else all together 
Can’t phrase me
Won’t phase me 
Craze glaze me
Never lazy
Never shy
Don’t ask why
Link Navi 
Try forces 
Game canons.
Bomb dropping 
On Gannon’s 
Front porches.
I’m like the USA 
in foreign lands:
No apparent way
Your a gay 
From Uruguay 
I’m CIA 
So get AIDS.
when you get laid.

Can we rap about something nicer?
Like chicken DNA splicer
Modified ironics
Blast class iconic.
Shiny cars 
And superstars
And white picket fences
In green yards.
My pesticides 
leave Insects defenceless
I’m apocalypse 
I x-men
Sarah Connor 
On the fence, men
When I’m flexin
the next in
To heaven  
Achieved while I’m living 
Unlocked and then maxed out
Game genie.
Shout out.
I’m Mad Max meets Lifestyles 
Sega con 
I’m megatron.
Move weight 
Like a megaton
With Fat Albert
And Oprah
Whip dick out
Soak ya.
I am god
Not closer
All truth 
No falser.
You sting like 
An ulcer
I sting like 
The Po-lease
Oh, puh-lease 
I smoke leaves 
You rake.
I’m so real
You fake.
I smoke blunts 
I bake 

You Martha Stewart-ass cake.