Monthly Archives: August 2013

Vanishing Points (poems from old notebooks, October 2009)

Nearly sunset, and we can be seen walking beneath a sky smudged by the charcoal wings of crows. The angle of light postulates a geometry of shadows, sketches a corridor of non-parallel lines beginning at our feet and diverging, bent … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Crows, Death, Epistemology, John MacKenzie, Language, Memory, Poem tweets, Poems from old notebooks, Poetry, The Earth, Time | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Back to the Bog, Seamus

I came late to the poetry of Seamus Heaney. Death of a Naturalist was his first collection, and the first one I read—it sat on my bookshelf for 10 years before I read it.  It was worth the wait. His … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Bog, Bog poems, Consciousness, Death, Epistemology, John MacKenzie, Language, Memory, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetics, Poetry, Seamus Heaney, The Earth | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

In the Night

Guess I’ve decided I can’t let Andrew Griffin write all the good cicada poems. In the Night With you gone there’s nothing in the night but trees wild with wind and cicadas’ ceaseless longing

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Cicadas, Cinquain, John MacKenzie, Micropoetry, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Summer, The Wind | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The End of August (When a Whole Lot of Decembers are Showin’)

Conway Twitty – I’d Love To Lay You Down The End of August (When a Whole Lot of Decembers are Showin’) The end of August and, across the harbour, fields lay out brown carpets for autumn’s stark procession— we’ll strew … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Autumn, Harbour, John MacKenzie, Memory, Micropoetry, Music, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Summer, Tanka, The Sea, Time, Winter | Leave a comment

The Buddha Farts Tonight

Somewhere between Christ and Muhammad, Buddha farts tonight—how stained all their fingers are, and greasy, with saffron, long pork, and blood

Posted in Atheism, Epistemology, John MacKenzie, Micropoetry, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Political Commentary, Religion, Social Commentary, Tanka | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

No Wonder the Gulls

No wonder the gulls ache in the sky all summer— the north wind whistles always in their hollow bones, holds their wings deep in winter

Posted in Art is lies, Charlottetown, Gulls, Harbour, John MacKenzie, Micropoetry, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Summer, Tanka, The Sea, The Wind, Winter | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Strands of Grey Loosen

A week from September the purple thistles start to let themselves go. Strands of grey loosen. Morning light slices more precisely through cooling, thinning air. The ache in bone moves deeper. The smooth harbour water looks dense enough to cut … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Charlottetown, Consciousness, Crows, Gulls, Harbour, John MacKenzie, Language, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Summer, The Sea, Time, Winter | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment