Geek Relieved

Geek alone with his self after all
the pyrotechnics have ceased.

Geek greatly relieved
that the out-of-control wonderful
has faded away.

Geek’s fingers more comfortable
skimming across his keyboard
than lighting the fuses of fireworks.

Geek more comfortable surrounded
by his ‘nology
and by all his virtual.

This was a weird one . . . I had all the stanzas written, but it was difficult  to decide what order to put them into. Because this poem is about a single moment, I guess the order of the stanzas doesn’t really matter. Maybe all four stanzas happen at once. If I perform this poem in front of people, maybe I should change up the order every time.

Flower Girl

I knew you
when you
were still a dirt-drowned seed,
drinking puddles from underneath.

I knew you,
I was there
the day you split open,
vegetable growth rupturing out of you
like a slow-motion explosion of green.
You were this tendrily thing,
clinging to the walls like a dear life.

Then I blinked,
and you had flowered
into brightness and light,
like small sunshine
growing in the sky.
And all my friends wondered
who you had been all their lives.
Nobody remembered your days of
dirty rainwater and rain-soaked dirt.
But you remembered,
and you couldn’t believe
yourself.

So you wilted,
like falling down stairs
Part of you died,
and part of you didn’t.
The part that didn’t
is now
dirt-drowned seed,
drinking puddles from underneath.

• These lyrics from The Guess Who’s “Undone” seem to fit this poem:
  It’s too late
  She’s gone too far
  She’s lost the sun
  She’s come undone

This Is Just to Say

As I was doing a wash today, I thought of a way to parody William Carlos Williams’ poem, This Is Just to Say.

I am wearing
the socks
that were in
the dryer

and which
you were probably
going to wear
today

Forgive me
they are clean
so fuzzy
and so warm

The Bottom of My Heart

I want to wish you a Merry Christmas
from the bottom of my heart,
I really do,
but it’s just not possible right now.
The doctors are still trying to figure out
what’s going on with the bottom of my heart.
They’re spouting medical gibberish, like
“it’s a black hole” and “it swallows light” and “there’s no end in sight.”
So, instead, I warmly wish you
a very Merry Christmas
from the top of my heart.

Fallback

I have failed, I have sinned,
and this is my fallback position.
I’ve got my back against a wall,
but it’s a solid wall,
my favourite wall in the whole wide world.
My wall is wallpapered with favourite photographs,
inspiring poems,
challenging Bible verses
and the occasional amusing doodle.
I think I’ll just sit here for a while, planning for the future.

Reading My Book Aloud 002

Here are the next five poems from my poetry book, desiring to touch sky. The themes of these particular poems seem to be friendship and vulnerability.

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6. The Troubadour’s Quarry Speaks
7. Uncommon Senses
8. How Can I Help?
9. Horizon
10. Difficult Letter

The List of the Transitionist

I am between
comfort zones.
I am
waiting in lines.
I am lingering in poorly-lit hallways.
I am borrowing couches.
I am waiting for my starship to come in.
I am in liminal spaces.
I am researching new histories.
I am wearing a tuxedo for the first time; it’s actually pretty comfortable.
I am trying strange food; they lit my cheese on fire!
I am opening aquamarine doors.
I am finding somebody’s lost marbles.
I am building bridges.
I am exploring the public library; it’s alive!
I am a night owl; I am an early bird.
I am visiting old friends more often.
I am baking salmon.
I am eating from a crock pot.
I am a blender enthusiast.
I am not your mother.
I am casting pods into the Digital Expanse.
I am hiding myself in plain sight.
I am in transition.

Reading My Book Aloud 001

I completed my poetry book, desiring to touch sky, some time ago, but I haven’t done much with it. Also, in recent months, I have not consistently followed my passion, which is to record MP3 files of my voice and give them away to people.

In order to start 2009 on the right foot, I want to podcast my way through my poetry book. I’m going to adopt the quick-and-dirty recording style used so effectively by author Cory Doctorow of the craphound.com podcast. So, without further ado, here are the first five poems from desiring to touch sky.

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1. Old Man Snoring
2. Stages
3. Homeless Man, Queen Street West
4. Walk Ing on Snow
5. Disquiet

Clean Sadness

This clean sadness washes something loose.
This clean sadness
disintegrates the ingrained grime
that’s been stuck to my soul’s skin.
It dislodges the grit in my nostrils
that’s impeded my breathing.

Can of Worms

A disconnected, rambling poem inspired by these lines from The Tragically Hip’s song, Grace, Too:
“I come from downtown
Born ready for you
Armed with will and determination
and grace, too”

I’m dancing as hard as I can,
and grace has nothing to do with it.
Grace flew out the window in 1992,
the year I turned thirteen,
and I ain’t been the same
since the day
my eyes leaked saltwater
while reading The Cay.

I learned to dance from Gord Downie;
I learned poetry from Bono.
I pick mentors like I pick party food:
gotta be quirky and falling off the map.

While I’m talking about food,
let me open up this tasty can of worms:
I seem to deal with my
emotions
only through movies and music and
poetry.
Maybe that’s why I blow through
two plus movies a week,
and have music wired directly into my head.
Doesn’t explain why poetry has eluded me
for three weeks in a row, though.

I’m dancing as hard as I can,
sweat falling off my eyebrows.
You try dancing to U2 and The Tragically Hip,
and you’ll see that grace has nothing to do with it.