ELEPHANT MOUNTAIN

.

.

Coiled

.

I saw the World
as the shell of a tremendous Snail
When everything is black or white
one can walk in & in
down through an ever-shrinking
an ever smaller & narrower space
until one comes to the smallest, narrowest place
where everything stops
& there’s no turning about
Nothing left to do but die

Or one can already face the other way
or turn about after a few steps
& walk out & out
up through an ever-wider
an ever larger & more open space
until one comes to where there is no more shell
where everything is revealed & alive
& all in rainbow colours.

17/8/12

.

.

Weather Report

.

Gloomy mid-July morning

Is this dew or rain?

clouds hoodwink the sun

In the afternoon

Cumulous crystal balloons

mount & swell above the Purcell mountains

rain at the North end of Kootenay Lake

pouring on Lardeau, Argenta, Johnson’s landing & the deadly Slide

for hours clouds rise

or fall to rise again

& wind’s a nest of startled snakes

I walk to Fletcher Falls

& while I return

this all clears silently away

pale, fresh-washed sky above

cumulous sheep

few & sweetly mild

Butter wouldn’t melt in its mouth

It’s like this:

O Rupert! Cousin Rupert! No!! Pray do not foreclose!

I must, or else my bank may fail.

O Cousin, give me time & I shall pay. I’ll take in washing – my sole livelihood is here, Alas, ‘tis all I have!

Nay, Artemisia! it is too late!

he produces a pistol

I must have the mortgage or die!

& places its muzzle against his cranium

O Rupert, Rupert, O!! What can I do?

Marry me, Artemisia: that you can do, & might

O Rupert, I have ever loved you

& I you, Artemisia. Our marriage abates the mortgage, the capital is here, the bank will not fail & you shall never

take in washing.

Being a banker is hell

exeunt, arm in arm; as they depart, he tosses the Mortgage into the air; she shoots it with the pistol

‘Way too melodramatic

& that’s the weather report today

15/7/12

❦

.

.

Dry

.

Birch twig an autumn wind dropped

a twiglet, two buds, brown & dead

in the Capital, they scold away all the scholars

bandits remain to grasp fiercely at the Empire

.

for Sung Po-jen

13/9/12

.