I remember him
sitting in his armchair
rocking slowly back
& forth smoking a cigar.
There’s no such things as
Santa Claus, he said bluntly.
You’ve outgrown it, kid.
That afternoon the snow
fell faster as I played
by myself in the yard.
Grandfather watched me
from his window
as he added up what all
my gifts would cost him.
……………………..
“Luke Baldwin’s Vow” at age 5, 1955
eighteen years
& standing
by the graveside
watching grandma
go into the ground
can’t see her now
her orange hair
& wrinkled face
hidden by the casket
others hang around–
relatives, a few friends
& paid mourners
all pretending to
feel sorry for her
not knowing how
she’d rather have
boogied all night long
…………………..
I was 18, 1967. My grandmother on my father’s side was quite a colorful character–owned a diner and grocery store-lunch counter. She once scared me when I was about 4 by taking me out to the Winnipeg Bay cafeteria for lunch and then saying she didn’t know if she had enough money to pay for the meal. I still remember her taking change out of her purse and counting it. She said we’d have to wash dishes if we didn’t have enough to cover the bill. She definitely lived on the edge and always had men-boarders in her last houses. One boarder impressed me in the kitchen one day by opening a pop bottle with his teeth. At one of her houses one day, a young guy brought a chimpanzee which bounded up the stairs to the landing where I, 4ish, stood and started jumping on me! She also managed to lose my dog Scamp one weekend when my mother and I went to Grand Beach. She always called me Ricky and would take me in on weekends sometimes when my parents needed a break. There was never a dull moment at her place. I once remember, in grade 6 or 7, playing her and one boarder a Martin & Rossi comedy LP which I thought was pretty funny (Hello Dere!) They never laughed once which gave me a memorable impression that the things I thought were funny or pretty good sometimes did not register on adults. A defining generation gap moment.
(Garneau, U of A)
hard rock droning
from inside the campus castle
does not beg forgiveness
presses instead
its awkward muzzle
against the unsuspecting street
(visions of bears
pawing tourist baskets)
passing by a third time
2 dim girls in haltertops
giggle & say
What a neat place!
Did ya see the hunk inside?
Manitoba
The Devil says fast.
The Lord says slow.
It all depends
where you want to go.
B.C.
No erections
without permission of
the Minister of Highways.
(memory of McNally)
Grey sky
above the broken hill
plunging down-
ward to tree-lined
banks below.
Murky reflections
of school-children
clustered in groups
on long spring grass
their backs to me
looking and looking
for haiku.
………………………….
A memorable free episode with Nature spread brilliantly around us at the best viewpoint of the city and river valley. And yet some students complained they couldn’t write a 3-line poem or find a poem in/on that beautiful afternoon with Nature huge, alive, and singing with possibilities.
Big shiny white 4 x 4
dead in the left lane ahead.
No gas.
Dope gone.
He dies while preparing
his collected works
for submission to a rag
that pays in copies.
The fatal attack came
after the covering letter
before the SASE.
He is survived by his wife
who maintains the proud file
of rejection slips.
…………………..
SASE–self-addressed stamped envelope
(based on Gustav Klimt’s painting of the same name)
On the bed, he holds her neck,
her hand all the while on his,
the golden fabric of tryst.
There are flowers in her hair
& he has not kissed her mouth
just yet.
He leans over her, clearly wants her.
She is his, maybe.
Sitting in a chair opposite,
you only see a peacock raiment
& the eyes that look back at you
in flowers, whorls.
They are one body.
You cannot tell him from her
but it does not matter now.
Her eyes are shut & he is still
kissing her. They are like flowers.
Inseparable. Their bed is a garden.
Being an old man
now he could outstare
the darkness
this one last time.
What you could only imagine
this man had subsumed
winters ago: empty hands
a sad sonata, dead trees
and swallows in flight.
He watched his new age
tick closer on the mirror
that was the river.
Lines and crease marks
reappeared at random
and covered his skin
like receding love.
It was a renaissance
in reverse
too terrible to watch.
far easier to be
the man himself
in a car by the river
than the poem he was
trying to finish…
There’s a lot
to be said
for clarity
especially at
2. 3 &
4 a.m.
In order to in-
crease perspective
u need
many people asleep
Mental dis-
engagement
& openness to
suggestion
don’t hurt either
So what can
u see or
figure out?
The future
past & present
for starters
Overall
u must be
ready to learn
to love silence
& whatever u ken
invent in the air
not blowing your
infrequent chance
to be
immaculate
on paper
& so u wait
wait for the
first words
to come on paper
each one of
them
pure
simple & true
……………………
Written around 4 a.m., when I was very ill with asthma (which I later ‘outgrew’) back in the early ’80s. The poem wrote itself, as the best work usually does.
