three three three poems poems poems

The new issue of Red Fez is out. Great, as usual.

Here are my contributions:

how i got this scar

i've got a lot going on

NO WONDER THIS IS A DYING ART

procrastination

it brings many great things - like crudely drawn profile photos. hurrah.

i'm stumbling through a chapbook manuscript of poems from ghana which i plan on shopping around, watching get rejected, and self-publishing. i've got the whole narrative arc mapped out - it's really very exciting - if only i can get the damn manuscript finished. but when microsoft paint calls...

three other things:

1. i can now confirm that i am definitely going to the "The Night of The Dead Poets" reading i mentioned earlier. in brief: Friday, May 25th at 7 PM at Upstart Crow Bookstore (238 Lonsdale Ave, North Van). come along!

2. HAP's may issue is now online.

3. marta's blog is alive again. fantastic fantastic fantastic.

the new phoenix

not a state of mind, no,
a city more tangible than any,
the personification of concrete
though no more alive

wait for the floodwaters to rise
the Fraser bloated and hungrier still
the feathers of Richmond and poor, flightless Surrey
wedged in its glistening teeth
(like sand in your toes on the drive home from the beach)

the sediment, ghost buildings
will hold meaning, yes,
will live on as ideas,
but in the hills
- the temperature three degrees closer to tolerable -
Phoenix will have arrived in their Winnebagos

(weren’t the Winnebagos an Indian tribe?
i don’t remember anymore)

they’ll cut the engines and pour on the sunscreen
hunt exotic game
clear layers of moss and solum
hold cookouts right there on the Cascadian granite
pick wild grapes and stain their feet purple
raise their glasses in a boisterous salute
to the natives who paved the way.


from the Spring 2007 issue of Vancouver Review

two pasty crescents, descending

as soon as i see them wriggling out
from under their overwhelmed jean-skirt
levee i cross myself and beg forgiveness
for the underaged ass i have ogled
for these are the suburbs and around here only
sixteen-year-olds with their ample
asses and limited assets are found
standing on street corners on monday
nights in such wholesale attire

and only in the suburbs does this in
no way suggest solicitation
instead simply an impromptu
street party over which the semi-nudes
preside until their fathers swoop in and
desperately yank them into rusted minivans
leaving the party to the boys
and their ladders of flesh, still one
rung away from the glow of the moon
and the admiration of the stars
which turn for home, now,
wink out one by one.


from the Spring 2007 issue of One Cool Word

yes, yes, yes

What can then be said about the scholastic dependency on reason to define and explain the world if it is an unreliable faculty? More fundamentally, how objective is science if, after all, it is human beings who are performing the scientific experiments and collecting data? It is crucial to make the distinction that science is not a thing in itself, as there are always people behind scientific research and the interpretation of results.

Nietzsche pointed out that the label or title given to a certain object often, and erroneously so, becomes more influential in how the object is perceived than what it actually is. By this, he intends to demonstrate that the rational mind is not as critically engaged as some would like to believe. It is rather the imagination that shapes reality; for words and labels tend to become things in and of themselves, which in turn are imposed upon the world.
...

The educational system should be obliged to protect the vast multi-layered reality of the imagination against the encroaching narrow reality of reason and objective science. The imagination should not be suppressed in university classrooms, but rather embraced with a moral endeavour toward making society a more just, beautiful, and meaningful place to exist.

- from "Imagination & Education" by Paul Hiebert, The Peak, May 7th, 2007.

if i cobble them all together i can call it a post

1. i'm going to Ottawa for the weekend and won't be able to blog, so i may shrivel up and die without the constant glow of a computer screen feeding me its cosmic energy. apparently though, the National Archives want two copies of all the back issues of High Altitude Poetry - that's thirty-four issues!

after not checking our (non-virtual) mailbox for a year and a half, i opened it a few days ago to find four letters from them requesting the things. they are persistent little devils. so i figure i'll go drop them off in person and tell them i flew there with the zines handcuffed to my wrist in order to ensure their safe passage.

2. the May issue of High Altitude Poetry is complete, but isn't online yet. Liam, our trusted graphic designer, abandoned us and headed to the mighty north, leaving Colin and i in charge, and me in charge of cover design. needless to say, i produced the ugliest cover in HAP history. it revolves around a hate-haiku we received during one of our poetry production lines:


3. one cool word # 5 (featuring my poem "two pasty crescents, descending") is going to be launched this Satuday (May 12th) at the Lamplighter. $12 gets you in the door, and lands you a free copy of the mag. all the details can be found here.

4. the new issue of Vancouver Review, featuring my poem "the new phoenix," has been released. i'll post the poem once i'm back from Ottawa.

5. on Friday, May 25th at 7 PM at Upstart Crow Bookstore (238 Lonsdale Ave, North Van), a number of living poets (including David Zieroth) will be reading the work of a number of dead poets (including John Newlove and Irving Layton). i'm planning on attending if anyone is interested in going together.

6. One Ghana, One Voice continues to plug along. the conversations being generated by our "five questions" section have proven quite interesting.

7. i'm liking this magazine/blog: blueskiespoetry

8. i've set up a fansite for tv's newest superstar, Stephanie Mercier, co-host of CityTV's "Sport of Kings" - the best damn horse-racing show in metropolitan Vancouver! check it out: The Mercienaries.

9. the wholesome fun of Saturdays in the Park is back for another year.

10. it's good to end on a nice round number. oh, and SALE SALE SALE!

re: my stupidity

i've thought about it for a long time and i think im finally ready to say it: i'm done with being smart. it has never come naturally to me, and my attempts to catch up have always come across as rather forced. truth is, i've never particularly wanted to be smart, it's just always been the thing to do. but i'm tired of doing it - it isn't working out.

i've never tried NOT to be smart before. over the last couple of years i've been gradually growing more comfortable with my stupidity, but i've never before actively embraced it. i'm not really sure how that is supposed to work. i'm going to try to enjoy that i know less than anyone else at dinner parties (if i ever go to dinner parties). this, ive convinced myself, will be easier that all my failed attempts to sound like i know more than everyone else at said fictional dinner parties – though it will probably prove far more difficult.

i think life will make more sense this way. and be more beautiful. and i'll end up destroying less of myself and the planet. and i might actually be able to write a poem again.

that’s the plan, at least. i'll let you know how it goes.

perhaps i haven't expressed myself eloquently enough here – or perhaps i've been too eloquent – to properly convey what i mean. if so, my apologies. i'm learning.

more than one way

my poem 'more than one way' has been published on feathertale.com. you can read it here:

more than one way

it's somewhat of a sequel to another poem of mine called "curiosity," which was also published on feathertale and can be read here:

curiosity

while on the topic, i think im out of cat related cliches to write about - if you know of other ones, please let me know.

and don't forget: SALE SALE SALE!

one year anniversary bonanza - EVERYTHING MUST GO!!!

PLEASE NOTE: THIS SALE IS NOW OVER

i recently realised that it's been more than a year since i released my chapbook "splattered earth." i still have thirty or so copies kicking around my house and this seems to be as appropriate a time as any to get rid of them.

so, here's the plan: you will buy a number of copies (twenty-eight?). in return, i will offer you a mesmerizingly fantastic deal:

THRU PAYPAL (there's a link on the sidebar):

if you live in the US: ignore the "Canada only" part. i'll mail the thing to your door FOR THE SAME DAMN PRICE. and in Canadian funds. wow!

if you live in Canada: 2 for 1! i'll throw in an extra copy which you can give to your spouse, a friend, or that-guy-who-isn't-really-your-friend-but-who-you-still-have-to-give-a-christmas-gift-to-at-the-office-party-or-whenever-it-is-that-you-happen-to-run-into-him-during-the-holiday-season.


IN PERSON:

find me somewhere and i'll sell you a copy for a buck. i will also sell you seven copies for five dollars. i will NOT sell you any number of copies between two and six, nor will i sell you more than seven copies, unless in increments of seven (fourteen, twenty-one, ninety-eight, etc.). too much paperwork.

want to know a little more about the product before making such a significant investment? you can get more info here, and you can read a selection of poems from the chapbook here.

thanks for considering my meagre offer. as a reward for your attentiveness, here is a stunning batman fan film - if in a hurry, just fast forward to 3:55 and watch Robin try to climb over a railing.

PLEASE NOTE: THIS SALE IS NOW OVER

how to start your nobel lecture...you know, if that ever comes up

They say the first sentence in any speech is always the hardest. Well, that one's behind me, anyway. But I have a feeling that the sentences to come - the third, the sixth, the tenth, and so on, up to the final line - will be just as hard, since I'm supposed to talk about poetry. I've said very little on the subject, next to nothing, in fact. And whenever I have said anything, I've always had the sneaking suspicion that I'm not very good at it. This is why my lecture will be rather short. All imperfection is easier to tolerate if served up in small doses.

- Wislawa Szymborska, from her Nobel Lecture upon winning the Nobel Prize for Literature, December 7th, 1996.