Burnaby Poetry

Burnaby Poetry

“Wake up in the morning
flirt, glance, touch, Love in the bed.
Only for a moment -- off to work.
Saying all emotions from within
Holding nothing back.”

“Art on the walls and
taking a shower of
the mind and humidity.
Air dry
Run in the nude – we’re out of towels.”

“Capilano art
For each reaction
is stupored morn.”

“Apples become apples.
First kiss at seven
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth,
Remember compliments,
Keep love.
[Sunscreen].
Work hard to bridge the gaps.
Mic attenuation.”

“I’m going to argue
that there is a shorter than short memory.
It’s like a loop.”

To keep it domestic,
we head to Al, from International Foods
Edmonds Street, whip a meal together on a budget.
“Live each day to the fullest,” he says after directing us to curry sauce. –
“Live honest” our vegetable saleswoman says, down the street
a forgotten standard in the lives of young.
And foremost, to “be interesting,”
So poems will be written about you,
Years later to be found scrawled and dusty.”

“Lamb curry to really feel the cosmos flying through,
as everything is expensive in Canada, me, am I ready for a shot?”
“Hell yeah.”
Always debating the impending shot, of Grant’s Scotch, I,
-- (but not Lisa) (my dear I’m writing you a love letter on 30 August) Is “out of control before I’ve left.”

On the train now, in brackets, instructions for editors.
[Write your happiest thought…]
The plan backfires, blah blah Granville Street you were so cool
Ten damn days ago with all your wild madness, really; then,
I felt like I needed no home nor direction and was content
A woman and companionship amongst throngs of red and white
So that is why things went wrong, Victoria.
I cannot ever capture the energy that it was the first time.
Only policemen doing “voluntary pour-outs” and the art tonight.
You’re the first, Victoria, to write for me.
“Right now, a glass of water.”
Willy, “Being surrounded by some seriously respectable friends.”
Hugo – “I found that Anna was my friend Shawn’s GF’s sister! So crazy!”
Shaq: “Balloons look swell when they float away.”
Some unintelligible drunk writing; typical Skytrain.
Two people professing thoughts of happiness in German.
For me, [never again] as the happiest thought.

“Did any of this make sense to you Victoria?
I regain energy from you but all I wanted to do
Was steal a kiss but it seems to hard to find
Ten seconds of time when you are not to be
In proximity of the old new man.
What was his deal anyways.”

Canada 2010: Travel: British Columbia (2)

I’ve been in Canada for one month.

My true travels are coming to an end, with this post, even as the train is in motion, bringing us closer to our destination. As we pass a murky lake and more commuter traffic this morning, JR announces that there is approximately one hour and fifteen minutes left on our journey across Canada.

It almost looks British, this part of BC, or that which in my mind is British – green pastures in January, overcast skies, no snow, farms, tight row houses on a hill not far in the distance. All around, things are covered in a thick ivy – ducks are sitting in muddy ponds not more than 30 centimeters deep where drainage is not achieved.

It is low hills, framed by overhanging mists of white clouds doffed by evergreens and peaks rising with snow in the background. The foreground is either a river or an inlet, someplace near Michan, or Maple Ridge, maybe Coquitlam, not quite Burnaby – the suburbs of Vancouver.

Vancouver is becoming more of a reality. Kitsilano becomes a place – undergoing gentrification with “yuppies,” as Susan says, who is the woman formerly described as in the printed dress back a few provinces ago.

She likes active art and conscious being, tells me about a book, The Four Agreements.

(In case you don’t know), maybe more on their meanings later.

1. Be Impeccable With Your Word 2. Don't Take Anything Personally 3. Don't Make Assumptions 4. Always Do Your Best

What has this journey done to my perspective?

I see wood I’ve worked with my hands, a different color here. Logs I see as lumber are floating in the river. New observations of the beginning of things in the West Coast, mostly of sawmills, woodchips, Georgia Pacific, industry that people don’t often see, things my father would see and observe much the same.

We’re finally to Vancouver – anti-climactic. There is finality in this leg of travels. We arrive at the station about 09:30, the bus for Squamish departs at 10:00, no chance though I run out with three heavy bags, attempting to catch it. I must miss it for a reason.

So I wait in the station, moving back and forth across the train station, slowly eating a lunch, reading, talking with Shaun, a galley cook from Victoria.

The bus boards, I take meaningless notes on the Greyhound as water pours down the rocks onto Highway 99; for those who’ve been, think a 20-40% more spectacular drive than what already is of Minnesota’s Highway 61.

Shannon Falls is roaring today – no climbers in the parking lot, full in July.

I’m finally here.

Lifestyle begins.

Canada 2010: Travel: British Columbia

It has finally come to pass that people are starting to converse, starting in Jasper.

Word makes its way around the train quickly that I am an American volunteering at the Olympics.

As the train reboards (note the elk), I’m approached by one of the two people who were speaking Spanish earlier in the afternoon in the observation car. He asks me about my visa situation and trying to work at the Olympics as well – we make plans to talk after the train has boarded.

Traveling with Nathalie, his Colombian girlfriend, the two have come from New York City via Toronto. He just graduated from NYU – he had been giving tours on bike of the city to tourists. She works in human rights advocacy – studying the impacts the drug trade has on women refugees in neighboring countries to her own Colombia.

It is also my first experience with Australians who aren’t just “Australians,” – it was time to start working on my geography, after all. One is from Perth, two are from Brisbane.

J.R and Ray, I finally record their names – the conductors aboard the #1, The Canadian.

The first freight train in a while, there seems to be a relationship between the amount of freight trains and the conversation level people in the economy class have. Talking with other people is nice – a young batch got on in Jasper, most are Australians traveling from Australia to Vancouver to Banff, then to Jasper, then back to Vancouver, then to South America; the Aussies travel in funny ways.

I come up with a tentative title for my novel (The Lab: Inside America’s Knowledge Production Factories) on the train as I finished coding it today and I am extremely pleased…We’re headed towards Kamloops, BC.

When we arrive for a short break, lights shimmer on the hillside, it is beautiful, I’m reminded of Duluth for the first time. Moving on, it turned dark and mysterious as we’re heading into the BC interior – no idea where we’re at, truly.

I think finally, now, I don’t know really, the whole thing of the train is finally realizing itself for me.

To meet these people; I become such fast friends with them.

Louis and Nathalie, I share some salami and whatever meager things I have in my carry-on with them; they pour me a gourd of herba mate at nine pm, telling me not to expect to sleep anytime soon, I experience mild euphoria, finding a brief window of heightened focus of the texture of my hand but then it is gone.

We’re sitting in the lounge, below the observation car. It is a party; we’re all train friends now. Sharing music, food, experience, plans, stories, philosophy until bedtime.