Rolling Stones





I left my pea coat on Salt Spring Island

Victoria in the last afternoon light. The Empress Hotel. The Clipper’s speed. Waving to the people on the breakwater.

Jericho hacking Google and living in a bus at Phoenix Farm after gambling away half a million dollars and curing himself of lyme disease
Marley and his body and his circus arts in the morning.
Shannon and Freyja and Marley. Freyja doesn’t need to hear how good Amy was in bed. She reads to Shannon in a one-armed plank. She stays somewhere else the next night.

Terra and Tally on the mountain top
Kara oh Kara
Scott. Bella Bella — let’s do it. Scott snores.

/* A dream: I moved to LA
made love to Tracey  */

Ashleigh and Molly and Ivy and their soft ease and supple confident youth

Soften, listen
Value judgments
Manu Manuel
Mandana from Montréal/Iran
Salt Spring coffee in the Salt Spring coffee shop with the Salt Springers
Salt Spring coffee
Salal in the forest at Ruckle Park
Ganges, Vesuvius

Beaver Point Hall is a wooden box
The floor’s name is Delia
The ceiling should have a name
Nathan is a tall sweetie with a face like Steve Buscemi who brought his guitar and sang songs. Black-haired Julia sang harmony.

Michael from Maine — “don’t grab me”
David’s eyes. David’s pigtails.
The soft girl from the yoga center. Her caress. Her confusion.

The dogs at Fulford Harbour. The Skeena Queen.

The arbutus forest. Running up that hill.
Kara oh Kara oh Kara

100 ways to kneel and kiss the ground

cusp of worlds
what tools to give to enter these worlds.

name the floor. sing the floor’s name.

let the image come alive
don’t pantomime the image

I want to do to you what the springtime does to cherry trees

drop your reins and let your animal carry you

a tongue between each vertebra

your throne is in your pelvis

kissing for miles and miles

the spine is a series of hot springs

the golden light of the moon reflecting of your chest

your dance is in your cells: it’s either either deeply personal or deeply impersonal

your bones are effervescent

Gravity comes from every direction

you have a rose tattooed on your inner thigh

you are a man: you are a woman

bones softened by grief

your dance radiates out from your ovaries

you are falling into god’s hands

you have the mane of the lion. it is whipping in the wind

this is your day, you are the bride of this day.
feather dance. every limb is a feather. your partner lifts each limb like a feather.

Mount Erskine

another mountain top and view

more salty tears

to share with you, not you

I wanted to kiss for hours on that park bench in Paris


Beautiful sunrise. Shame I’m in such a shitty mood. Mostly thinking about how shitty people are to each other and how little God/Nature/other people care.

More from Lasqueti

A base of gratitude and amazement
nothing matters
dance as if it all matters so much
reach for the floor
release the legs

A change of heart. Since there is no truth, I must choose beauty. The agreeable over the disagreeable.

The walk of ash into the walk of air and light.

The underscore undermined. Caverns cut into the bedrock by rivers of self doubt.

The inherent violence of yoga.


you changed things without asking me.

england from the m4

there’s some poetry in the sheep
lying in the winter rape
the trees dead-seeming stripped bare a dull blur under the leaden sky
darkness come again before it’s gone