Monday, September 15, 2008

poem written in eden mills

A fact is brutal it stands over a hole.
— Karen Houle, during
a curious balance of cars
& camouflage ushers

how full the hand curves

rain striates sudden damp paths
of what once was a house

& what might be again

a landscape of giants
& the violence

of ontario small towns

sadder than rock,
settled loyalist stone

& parceling bookshelves, tables
white surface of wet

amid these distractions, how easy
they change size & shape, how fully

embody a break
in the language of river, sound

nestled in, bulrushes

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