are we now but lonely strangers

Jeffery Van den engh was born in the Montreal Jewish General Hospital not too long ago. "I read T.S. Elliot mostly, but my greatest influence comes from music. I am inspired by many things, but mostly memories. I write because I'd be foolish not to." Jeffery has written this poem for his bio. for my undaunted readers i haven't yawned very long in literary circles. to bear away in basements clueless to the sensual flux of seasons. to masturbate salvation. to suckle inspiration from the posthumous teat of some old bard as life leaps and sprouts beyond the sheen of chessboards freshly greased. through nicotine pasted casements angled only by a bible turned propping stone. where semen glazed posters portend towards a plaintive future. a bleak tunnel. perhaps a blade of moonshine. to slurp pretensions and mochachinos smoking catastrophes on corduroy sofas. to seek out kinship with williams and ginsberg. to ridicule daddy with reference to cronus. i regard your disquietude. would you have me cease to notice. my arms in raised pomposity. i coliseum cheer. sparrow songs truckle when you speak. please undo me with your wit. slit my wrists with paper daggers. to abscond to paris patios. bleeding woman with my tongue. to squat square chested on a breakwater trembling from the ocean score. to flake away in fiery conversations. to build up like hysteria squeezed into a padded jar. to erupt with scorn and snobbery. to juggle for the bar. to bury my face in lunacy dripping drunken la dee das. is to me a waist of life. which is to me replete with inspiration.