Saskatoon Travel Blog› entry 3 of 47 › view all entries
2 weeks in
a minor missive from a major mover:
(tho not necessarily running away)
green glow growing out of black blankness. intersecting, only vaguely chaotic lines of orange, yellow, white. not a city where 500,000 people live, each light a life. but graphics on a computer screen. hit a button and all the points of light disappear. black blankness again. where images really are power,
& generators are generating generations
...or is it the other way around?
then. Wanuskewin. a sighting. a Cree heritage. a cite.
& the metaphor is overloaded anyway. flickering. blackout.
Gordon Lightfoot, a seductive national moment as my brother's 19,000 dollar Celica glides thru a familiar landscape. Flatness prevails, tho ghost stories now ride dust particles on the prairie winds. My childhood played out against this big sky. Roads like geometric annotations, carefully plotting out space and place. Defining. And there is no swerving from the chosen path. No. No choices at all. Their roads are straight lines (prairie no-nonsense). From here to there. From A to B. Stories as familiar as old gloves
where i prefer your naked fingertips
...a T.O. memory: momentary glitch on the horizon
of grey highway and a Gordon Lightfoot serenade.
place. space. time. context...
I spent five years in
there is a story here. nonetheless
especially when the "less" is more or less approximate to the "nothing" you've been searching for
whether pre- pro- or post-
& the magic today comes in a refusal to ride quietly on return. I sing loud 'n off key to Stompin' Tom, my brother's fav. I will not be scared speechless by ghosts, no matter what the tongue.... When have I ever been at a loss for words?
I have my mother's home cooking to thank for my complacency. Mouth's too full of tasting to say much in defense of new stories or an old world
even if i'd rather have your skin against my lips
at any given moment
memory. momentary fissure in the time
scheme. the screen shifts. same points
of light. new arrangement. hit a button
and it all disappears
"then" and "now"
...& even while positing proposals for new possibilities, I am thwarted by ghosts
Oh, and I ran into my ex-husband the other day
I am leaving home soon:
a ghost or two
& I keep thinking:
you were supposed to be safe
but here I am...
Dreaming during the day of your voice
its gentle quizzing
your open response to my touch
Living out story after story at night
i am in flight again
except, every time i look out
over the wing, and
...there you are
You provide a decent crisis, Michael, for someone who was supposed to be safe