September 29, 2012

WRITING: Three Poems

As part of Montreal's Culture Days, I attended a free poetry workshop at a very Zen clothing store in the city's Mile End. Every time I wander these east-end streets, I experience 'hood envy. So many fascinating shops, creative outlets and great food offerings, from Piri-piri Portuguese chicken to fresh-baked bagels and croissants. For one hour, a small group of us worked furiously on three poems, prompted by "teasers" given to us by leader and fellow poet Elizabeth Johnston.

#1: Choose an object in the store and relate it to your job.
#2: Look in the mirror and create a self-portrait.
#3: Use the dollhouse (in the store) as inspiration.

The Singing Bowl
its hollow tones
emanate
from empty space -
like corporate illusions
echoing
in a career corridor
with no door
open to integrity.
still, the meditation calmed me.
ruminate, write, revenue.
repeat as necessary.
a conservative path to success
built on consumer excess
and my distress
at the emptiness
within.

The Observer Observed
a random remark,
an unconscious start
to channeling Andy Warhol -
it might be the fall of my bowl-cut hair,
or the glasses chosen without care,
or the hapless way
i dress in black -
if only to hide my bulges
and battles with the household cat -
still, i like the comparison;
cross-gender, pop culture,
i can be a vulture, too.
if the clone fits,
wear it.

Broken Toilet
my dollhouse has no dolls;
i pulled their heads off
and planted them in the garden
to grow breasts.
how naive can you be?
but there's furniture inside
for imaginary friends -
the kind that live
in miniature spaces
with no traces of body waste
or garbage.
the tiny toilet
sits waiting,
no itty bitty bowels
cogitating nearby.
a space for waste, or
a waste of space?
the dollhouse sighs
at my anal angst.


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