rigid curses

 Dear Reader,

Today I biked to St. Helen's Island probably the last time...

I just wanted to do this ride for one last time to have my farewells to this city...

Probably, you may not know but in order to make advertisements of my 

books and poetry, I did painted stones with a blue heart on one side

and a poem on the other side...I used to leave them on some of the spots in my biking route

like the makeout spots where there are park chairs or small hidden bays by the St. Lawrence river...

:)

its a message in a bottle type advertisement campaign

no wonder it didn't lift off...

the thing is that stupid me used to carry all those stones in my bag pack while riding to Montreal

and in return journey, the new stones I collected on the route so that I can make new ones for the next week...

I carried all those stones like my dead weight bike was so light and comfortable...

reader, I don't have difficulties for finding new unnecessary difficulties for myself...

my time in here and my bike trips on this bike road to Montreal...

I was biking when I was at my highest and I was biking there when I was at my lowest...

I rode in the sunny days, in the windy days, under the rain...

this is the route where I had one of my worst biking accidents

it was all me, my bike music and my dreams..

I wrote my poems on this road...

I lost my self and I found my self in this road...

its the road that kept me alive and hopeful...

so I wanted give back one last respect to it...

the weather was perfect and my bike allowed me to ride to my destination and back.....

all the good memories were on my mind as I was riding...

like the day it decided to rain cats and dogs when I reached old port Montreal...

a t-shirt and back pack and my bicycle helmet...

I ride back to my house in empty bicycle road under rain singing loudly the music I was listening while being drenched completely wet,,,.

I was soaked like a old stray dog 

Sun in my brain

I tilt

Pace freezed, tap psychologist

Your tool instead of a shard of glass

Begone courage of liquid

Embed your shy sush, to  freeness  

Dreaming by

Closely tapping at rigid curses

You fake it, but I cannot make it

the developing, famous dizzy

Shredding me to bits and pieces of your inferior

Loosing my roses

to an aphid on the loose

                            King H. Ironson

(Photograph: King H. Ironson)

Note: one of the stones that I dropped to be found...the other side has a poem..its my stupid hand in the picture as well showing the location of drop...a makeout spot by the St. Lawrence river looking Pont. Champlain...