A collection of my poems, both old and new.
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"Hard Thing to Do"
Falling
ten stories
is a hard thing to do
at least (so I've heard)
on the radio //them saying that
some guy ssslipped while pretending
to commit
suicide as a joke.
Fell
ten (10) stories
and landed on the roof
of a ?Volvo! a hard THING
to do -- lucky it wasn't
a con-ver-ti-ble or else he(would)'d
be walking around
with a STICK Shift
for a spine (!)
Fell
(10) ten stories
to lay there
for a few (3) SEConds
before getting up,,,
brushing himself off
and trying' to find (himself)
some //new// friends-
maybe a hospital or at least a lawyer
ANYthing but another eleVAtor
[although probably another party
this 1 (one) in a (1) one-storey bungalow
in the middle of the big city,,,
A hard THING to do--
IF you ask me.]
˗ˏˋ・。☆.・゜✭・. AUTHOR'S NOTES ✫・゜・。.・。. ✭
Up until this point in my life, I'd grown up in a variety of small towns across Canada and even internationally. But always small towns. I'd never lived in a big city.
I hit Toronto like it was a brick wall, which I suppose it was. The effect was deeply disorienting, something that found expression within this poem. It took on a very different style than anything I'd written previously and it's not a style I've revisited much since. It's a unique moment in time that stands alone, trapped in amber, the first and last of its absurdist kind.
