25 September 2008

storefront poetry: 15-20


grim rainbow out there some-
where over the prairies—sun
caught moisture linking—how
does that happen     really? no
choreographer in the clouds
just sunlight travelled millions
of miles kilometres whatever
and condensation likely moisture
picked up over the pacific ocean
the other side of the rocks
and their stony companions
in desert and cooling heels
feet in oyster-rich sunshine
coast’s waters . . . oh for a pillow
to lie my head on . . . not coffee
as the pony express rides again
and runners run their messages
on trails through the canyon maze
and across the truly wide horizon
always moving across everyone’s
personal landscape uniquely
the plate defective empty
somali taxi drivers and food
restaurant in the new york hotel
just around the corner from here



victorian-heeled boots and biker
head scarf trailing a rattail braid
the goofy smile of a bushed man
but patti smith from the speaker
takes me back thirty years to
saturday morning $2.99 door-crasher
lp specials at sam the record man
k-mart plaza tachoma drive dartmouth:
hearing her for the first time
amazed . . . jaw-dropping stunned
by the power and poetry immediate
visceral palatable right there
like little or nothing else heard
sex pistols the clash rats siouxie
—all still over there in merry olde
snuck in songs on cbc gold rush with an
ex-mountie’s mango-flavoured imagination
pigeon grey carpet under his table
mushroom soup in his crested mug
fisher-price toys in a stationer
shop near the foot of portland
street . . . just up from city hall
back sore from working this small
coal face on my side with pickaxe
and little wiggle-room . . . no escape
if the mine above suddens
makes a sinkhole of my heart



boxing books and tools     less-
worn clothes brought     for mailing
east before i fly across goose
instinct and the shuttle sightings
of geese weaving their way south(ward)
feel that i’ve barely touched down
in this wonderful grande prairie town
and i’m about to hit the road     džo
possibly to be replaced by other
writers artists musicians fortune
tellers and shamans of the wor(l)d
birch leaves not fallen keep
frost off tomatoes and cukes
the small bed of red potatoes
leaving hairs between the sheets
skin and nail clippings the makings
of a hoodoo voodoo coochee boy
doll with beer and wine arteries
gluestick heart     lavender grate
for a whale mouth wired shut
against talking and interrupting
something new     anything not tried
viking conservative right wrong
as assertive fine arts l wing
and housed across the parking lot
from nurse engineering and all else



shopmen of new t-shirts rock
the ribbon reverses itself
endless supply of ink to
instantly printing letters
nothing like a bacon wallet
or the november artist nicole
bauberger planning to make
a hundred small encaustic dress
paintings in ten days in the
pillars area of grande prairie
regional college caffeteria
a sloan song has me thinking
bacxk to adam yesterday afternoon
talking about classifies being
from elmsdale enfield area and
that two of his (adam’s) relatives
play in grand theft bus in fredericton
—such a small world—and ann
manuel’s “his last breath” painting
in prairie art gallery newsletter
jon driscoll still in belarus
learning russian while zoya and
iza are in wild western canada     eh?
wings on a girl’s ankles covered
—one who wanted books by hand
on a different day or night



what transforms a student—scared
expelled frustrated angry paranoid—
into a newscast’s gunman: columbine
regina toronto montréal wherever . . .
waving a gun or mock gun about
doesn’t transform student into man
even if it makes him a killer
taken suicided or killed by a sharp-
shooter for peace enforcement
perhaps prison songs and this store-
front poetry could become one book
—after casemate poems (collected)?
I’ll be riding the silver wave of film
in fredericton at the same time
rob has arranged for span-o to
clean ottawa’s litterary clogs
c’est la vie—rob lost this one
the life of a half reading given
here with alta baggage rather than
orleansexpress.com bus to otterwater
with a terminal montréal deli b’fast
en route before dawn home entertainment
the capitol shelved until late January
next year when i’ll be treed—not
hibernating or garret-chilled writing
and writing my was thru the world



drop the toy and lose it—you’ve
been told—time to go for a walk
cool off (in the autumn breeze)
go home and get/take a nap?
movies milk and a gas fireplace
typewriter sliding left off the table
as i write more and more poems
boys with tape and band posters
stopped by the racked creatures
i’m something new in the shop
in the rabbit hole of wonders
but i’m not part of the security
i want so many books in here
with the time and fireplace
perhaps the west chezzetcook
stored papasan chair to curl in
so i can read and read and read
tonight is a school something
a birthday fallen on presentation
of awards or scholarships or what?
and i said i’d be there as sure
as his opa and grandmother bibi
coming in from their japanese
pottery studio and kilns in hythe
a donkey named after el vis     the
mexican elvis impersonator golden


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