Jun 4

Using Thumbs

By Kyngtrampstamp “I was thinking about it yesterday while biking. You gotta remember each turn you’ve plotted to get like colours on each side,” He smiles at me. Holding his Rubik’s cube. “I’ve no idea what you’re saying.” I go back to scrolling my newsfeed. Finding nothing new I open another app. I scroll. Nothing. Next app. I scroll. We’re on our fifteen. “Look! A full side!” I side glance at his cube. One side. All blue. Out of the corner of my eye my thumb swipes up. I look back at my newsfeed, trying to see what I was scrolling for.

Drabble

1 min read

Using Thumbs

Kyngtrampstamp

“I was thinking about it yesterday while biking. You gotta remember each turn you’ve plotted to get like colours on each side,” He smiles at me. Holding his Rubik’s cube.

“I’ve no idea what you’re saying.” I go back to scrolling my newsfeed. Finding nothing new I open another app. I scroll. Nothing. Next app. I scroll. We’re on our fifteen.

“Look! A full side!”

I side glance at his cube. One side. All blue. Out of the corner of my eye my thumb swipes up. I look back at my newsfeed, trying to see what I was scrolling for.

May 30

Passing totes

by kyngtrampstamp If I sit and scribble I know it will hear me If I keep beating my head against the wall I know it won’t kill me If I look from left to right I know it will come for me From Failure: -My finger tips will click -Will flick from my throat -A ball to the skull Uncrumple the paper… The four sides of what I wrote.

Poem

1 min read

Passing totes

kyngtrampstamp

If I sit and scribble

I know it will hear me

If I keep beating my head against the wall

I know it won’t kill me

If I look from left to right I know it will come for me

From Failure:

-My finger tips will click

-Will flick from my throat

-A ball to the skull

Uncrumple the paper…

The four sides of what I wrote.

Mar 14

pieces of — NIIGHT by Elie Wiesel —

pieces of — NIIGHT by Elie Wiesel — A cut-up poem Kyngtrampstamp. Before he told us, “Don’t worry. I’ll warn you if there is danger.” A pause. He was observing the effects his words had produced. The silence became more oppressive: There was little air. A prolonged whistle pierced the…

Cut Up

1 min read

Feb 9

He/him justin trudeau

By Kyngtrampstamp . I am the one you call a number Hidden in polls, stats, and stolen Canadian data. You are the one aging out of prime The “Step Up” administering the call . But, some days I forget that call, and you: One walk on a river valley: snow…

Justin Trudeau

1 min read

Feb 4

vaccycle

By Kyntrampstamp. Carin cuts off a big yellow taxi and veers into the pharmacies parking lot. Her white car zips across the reflective front windows. Tires kicking up the odd leaf dropped by the prairie autumn. Autumn leafs slip-flipping their way down to the cement. She swerves into a spot…

Vaccine Safety

16 min read

Jan 29

Cab Sav Think

By Kyngtrampstamp Full moon weighing through winter branches On bare snow glows I’m pushing fountain pen on cork Bottle neck splashes A puddle like that ink blot lands on glowing forest floor.

Poem

1 min read

Cab Sav Think

Kyngtrampstamp

Full moon weighing through winter branches

On bare snow glows

I’m pushing fountain pen on cork

Bottle neck splashes

A puddle like that ink blot

lands on glowing forest floor.

Jan 25

Gay Covid Sex During The Lunch Hour Special

By Kyngtrampstamp WC:6000, or 35 minute read. “Gwowck. Gwhoack. Gwo-eck,” He gags. Chubby face. Spittle running over his chin. I watch him rock back and forth on all fours. Anchoring with his lips. Pulling to drain. Then stabbing his tonsils back on the guys hard end. Towel around his bubbly…

Covid Diaries

22 min read

Gay Covid Sex During The Lunch Hour Special

Nov 11, 2021

Crystal Screen

— poem — Kyngtrampstamp Someone answered me on TV Someone not with my vote That someone, however, not wearing a mask back at me. Her back was from the screen. Basically an extra in politics. I watched for how empty the room was. What I could think of the extra space. How loud…

Poem

1 min read

Oct 26, 2021

Just the tip. — a drabble —

He enters a downtown corporate cafe. He orders. The barista steams his specific drink then hands him his dry latte. He taps. No tip prompt? Another customer approaches from behind. He offers a Loonie. She says no. He shrugs and places it in front of the till. She smiles, nodding once. The other customer stiffens, then accuses, “She said no, man!” “Just the tip?” Sasses the tipper. “Seriously? No!”

Tipping

1 min read

Just the tip. — a drabble —

He enters a downtown corporate cafe. He orders. The barista steams his specific drink then hands him his dry latte. He taps. No tip prompt? Another customer approaches from behind.

He offers a Loonie. She says no. He shrugs and places it in front of the till. She smiles, nodding once. The other customer stiffens, then accuses, “She said no, man!”

“Just the tip?” Sasses the tipper.

“Seriously? No!”

The barista nods. The tipper leaves the downtown corporate cafe. The complainant rants on about “It’s not funny, for anyone!”

The next morning management tapes up a “No tip jar” sign.

Jul 8, 2021

Variant Concerned

Covidian Poem The only variant of concern The Media Variant: Turn the phone on Your eyes light up Spotlights for Covid You see: Unvaccinated: Vaccinated Anti-Vaxxers: The problem with outdated perimeters: Neo desires for a classical division: Rigorous shadows: Passports for breakfast. You say those deniers are watching youtube —…

Covid Poems

2 min read