Thursday, October 17, 2019

Three poems for White Wall Review


With all this talk of walls; a lack of comprehension
of how borders. Irrelevant, perhaps. A durational performance

is landscaped, crisis. What
is he on about? Some guy agonizing

over generalities, lies, responds

with venom, violence. Escalating. Between earth
and earth, a grave

the size of fear.


Toronto, what have you. The future Bishop, John Strachan,
to Thomas Jefferson’s complaint

of British forces burning America’s Government House,
the Library of Congress: Can you tell me, Sir, the reason

why the public buildings and library
at Washington

should be held more sacred than those
at York?


Tributaries, lakefront. Heartland. I could hear
you breathe. History responds, erases,

rewrites. Governs. Surrenders copy.
A door unlocked

along the Gardiner, the Don Valley. Are you
island or centre? A photo finish. All those

northern roads. Cold at the mouth. This hearth,
this written word.

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