A POET, UNPLUGGED
He sits
cross-legged in Portland outside
Powell’s
as tourists step around and past
The carrycase
open at his feet, last
Scraps
of change inside it fishing for eyes
In passing
to bite, be hooked by the shine
Of what
few ask him to write, hungry keys
His scrounged
typewriter has baited itchy
To strike
and, cast wide by his fingers, snag
What’s
flitting through our glances, the lyric
Inked in
chopstick-style, the words so surefire
They
are fish flying, leaping, off the page
Carriage
return advancing the quick
Study
of his craft, the fishy desire
He
retails, if not paid for, tossed away.
John Barton (john-barton.ca) is a poet, essayist, editor, and writing mentor. His books include We Are Not Avatars: Essays, Memoirs, Manifestos; Seminal: The Anthology of Canada’s Gay Male Poets; and The Essential Douglas LePan, which won a 2020 eLit Award in the United States. Lost Family, his twelfth book of poetry, was nominated for the 2021 Derek Walcott Prize. He lives in Victoria, where he was the city’s poet laureate from 2019 to 2022.
No comments:
Post a Comment