In the past couple of weeks, as I wait to get into Kham, Sichuan, I have been dreaming about the snow that is falling back in Fernie. It occurred to me Hot Dog day is coming up and I will be missing the pow pow, the big air, and the absurd zaniness that makes more sense to me than anything. Heres to the Griz, hot doggin, and all the designated drivers who are going to change their minds....
Haute Dog by Roann Liew
bacon
I don’t remember
breakfast
or even
waking up
put your tights on
I’m blind
really dark
sunglasses
peering through
crystal blue razor
sharp edges
headwall
calling us or
us calling her
hollering out
the window
whizzing
by west
fernie a car
costing less
than the skis
my jacket
two dollars
wearing four
leg warmers
can’t feel my
balls you win
nice boobs
whats that
your box a
martini
set matches
my hair
race you to
the wallaby
to the wallaby
big air
nine foot
fat guy
bag o chips
big air
faces melting
split seams
big air
pass me
a cold one
up for another
run another run
a foot in the
boot the boot
in the ski
another run
another one
lunging
down the world
helicopters
all smiles
my face
melting keep your
headband on
Sounds. I can't stop listening. To my neighbour weedwacking his lawn for what I swear to be the fifth time today. To the river, a little more calming and soothing. To my heartbeat: irregular but such a keener. I hear it again, it just keeps going. I listen, I can even hear the blood throbbing through my veins.
And then the sentence forms out of observations.
The sentence comes with a beat. I carry it around for a few days, I walk to that beat. There is always an end to the beat and I know it. It takes days, weeks, even months. I try not to let a poem drag on too long. For me, poetry is about being in the moment. It might linger on in our minds, but all is just a thought in thin air. Carry it around for too long and it becomes a muddy painting.
I like to keep it fresh. enigmatic, yet subtly lyrical; simple.
The biggest tool in my poetry? Spacing. Space defines emotion, moods, stillness, stagnation, waiting. waiting
again.
Space defines the pause between thoughts. The where you actually feel your emotions surfacing. The pause that leads to the big thought. The big picture.
My poems are a slice of the big picture I attempt to see. Usually inspired by observations of humanity. Those pauses, you know, when you are feeling something
