(a section from molecular hyperbole)
… and, as Ezra Pound’s eyebrows crept ever closer,published in Ottawa by above/ground press
the outlaw reunion came to an abrupt end, the
I-vow-my-Troth recurring dream
hung on for dear laugh, went eventually
belly-dancing out of the room,
much to the dismay of
poets in their
eating enchiladas, face up on the sofa like
flappers in repose. Now all that this
lights out in the bungalow means
is another possible brush with self-realization.
As the work goes on
a few perfect notes taking form within
the unshaven limits of formality,
an eternally Al Neil squeals across
the real room, the room itself
takes on the form of
a glassworks, a conversation.
May I have a word with you?
Poetry: the equivalence that licks
the baby-spoon, the scurry
of mnemonic mice, a mass of restless
piecemeal motives. The dumb
goat that bleats, that will eat
a/g subscribers receive a complimentary copy
lary timewell is a North Vancouver writer recently returned from 20 years in Fukushima. The co-founder and publisher of the late 1980s and early 90s Tsunami Editions, he has published a number of titles, including two recent chapbooks from Obvious Epiphanies.
The author would like to thank Pierre Coupey and Renee Saklikar for their encouragement in the writing of this piece.
To order, send cheques (add $1 for postage; outside Canada, add $2) to: rob mclennan, 2423 Alta Vista Drive, Ottawa ON K1H 7M9 [NEW ADDRESS!] or paypal at www.robmclennan.blogspot.com
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