A (sheepish) update!

Winter has arrived in Beaverlodge. We have been spared any really cold weather, fortunately. It was down in the -20 to -30C range for several days, but by and large we've managed to avoid the deep freeze. Aya and Rowan are enjoying sledding, Aya is enjoying school (she's in kindergarten), Shelley is enjoying her new post-doc research position, and I am enjoying the opportunity to do a few things that are more 'artistic' than 'scientific'. I'm dabbling making a few block prints, and wrote some poetry (yes, poetry!) in the last couple of weeks. My cousin Jonas (a writer) and I became embroiled in a "poetry slam" (my term, not his), where we would both write 5 poems, on alternating days, resulting in 10 poems in 10 days. I'll post my 5 poems here, you can read all 10 poems on his Tumblr site.

We still have a lot to post here from our NZ-to-Canada transition. Shelley has some pictures of the snowfall in Christchurch that she wants to post, and we have some pictures of Beaverlodge that I want to put up.

I miss New Zealand. It really is a great country - beautiful landscapes, friendly people, and a laid-back pace of life that I REALLY enjoyed. Compared to Canada, Kiwis really have a greater appreciation of both the fine arts and coffee, two things that are important to me. I appreciated the relatively small scale of NZ - it was easy to drive from coast to coast (just a few hours), whereas any real travel in Canada involves endless hours of driving. I do like the wildness of Canada, although I recognize that the wildness is not that accessible from most cities, and that the Canadian wilderness is shrinking every year...

More (and better) updates soon! In the meantime, here are the 5 poems I wrote for the poetry slam.


Poems of the ‘2011 Poetry Slam’

Poem 1 (November 28, 2011)

One snowy day

I turn up my collar to stand and listen
to lonely breezes whisper and sigh
and blow snowy ghosts through skeleton trees
that wave at the pale and wintery sky

Cold-emptied midnight streets are alive
with swirling cones of luminous snow
that trace the wind’s invisible hand
in the streetlamps sodium glow

Blanketing snow lies silent and deep
across fields blue in silver moon light
weary steps leave a shadowy stain
as I rush home through the ominous night



Poem 2 (November 30, 2011)

Sonnet 2 City @ Night

Cups of coffee from all-night Quick-E-Marts
faint honks and pulsing green-amber-red light
syncopated jazz rhythms in fits and starts
the fervent music of cities at night

Circe plies night’s crew with shameful wine
the drunkards stumbling dance from closing bars
and brand-new neon galaxies outshine
and hide the old light of heavenly stars

A lonesome Doppler-shifted siren howls
as taxi drivers prowl the asphalt maze
and beneath their grimy polyester cowls
the prophets whisper of the end of days

Televisions flicker in towers bright
but in the streets below none own the night



Poem 3 (December 4, 2011)

This indigenous ecosystem

Digital streams with living mass
twist and flow through concrete towers
tarmac plains glow with neon grass
and the shine of stainless flowers
in this indigenous ecosystem

Food webs of this human affair
digital flora feed ravenous beasts
the Twittering birds that fill the air
are easy prey for social feasts
in these indigenous ecosystems

Where predators eye grazing herds
and sort them into prey / foe / Friend
they calm them with appeasing words
but know they are food in the end
in those indigenous ecosystems

Curious Tumbling weeds cross sands
endlessly wide but inches deep
electric cacti stretch their hands
and blankly stare but never sleep
in our indigenous ecosystem



Poem 4 (December 5, 2011)

In conversation

I can’t
understand
what they are saying
I try / my mind stretches / yet comprehension
fails to grow, I cannot fathom their dark syllables
my yearning blooms
like pale
thirsty
weeds


I will
them to talk to me
but with inscrutable stares
They laugh / bend their dark wings / lift like thought
and drop like heavy black smoke from their pole perches
they wheel and turn
black streaks
against the
pale
sky



Poem 5 (December 7, 2011)

As it goes

My blood splashes out as I walk
red ribbons across the snow-crusted pavement
Standing in the lineup at the bank I feel it
drip drip drip drip drip onto the floor
But then it gushes forth in sudden scarlet gouts when I nervously smile
at the pretty girl who gingerly hands me
a cup of coffee
and winks

When I was young I didn’t see the blood
that ran quickly and smoothly like perfect paint from my hands and side
as I leapt among the trees like a still-speckled deer
it painlessly spilled
fueling adventure and conquest
in trees
backyards
and streams

Some evenings, in repose
I look back along my day’s meander
and see the crimson spray on the wall, pools on the sidewalk
A long tell-tale staccato path of droplets
here and there, on fences, on doors
mostly ignored
slowly drying
on the ground

Do I fret about the eventual day my last spoonful of blood
gathers, without haste, a weary glistening welt upon a fingertip
which I may look sadly upon, bemused
as it finally drops to the floor
leaving a husk whose seeds have
long since fled to fertile soils?
Or do I long
for it?