Birthday Musings

Thirty Three years ago I was born and almost died. I was two months and some weeks premature. I was a twin for three hours, and then I was not. At some point, when I was very young, someone showed me his tombstone: I’d not yet learned to read and remember thinking if I could just understand what was written on it I would know some part of him. But I could not, and it seemed too much to ask the grieving adults around me, so I never found out. At the time I assumed it was an explanation for why he had died, and I had not.

I learned to read soon after.

French Fashion Sense: Sarkozy vs. Niqab

If you haven’t been reading about France this week, you’re probably not alone.  Given the political uproar in Iran, and the pending strike by employees of the LCBO (that, for our non-Ontarian readers, is the Liquor Control Board of Ontario – who are the sole legal purveyors of hard alcohols in Ontario), it would be pretty easy to miss the news pieces on French President Nicholas Sarkozy’s exciting foray into feminism this week.

At a state dinner on Monday, President Sarkozy – whose feminist credentials up to this point are pretty much limited to having sex with wife Carla Bruni – declared that the fully body coverings favoured by some conservative branches of Islam (the niqab and burka) had no place in french society, or France.  Specifically Sarkozy said:

“The burqa is not a religious sign, it’s a sign of subservience, a sign of debasement — I want to say it solemnly… …It will not be welcome on the territory of the French Republic.” (source)

The statement by President Sarkozy comes along with the commitment to have the French government consider legislation that would outlaw, ban, or otherwise render illegal the wearing of niqab or burkas.

Sleep Stink

I slept a stink so bad last night I had to take refuge on my girlfriend’s side of the bed. A stink so bad I must have died, rotted, and then been forced back to life to answer for the olfactory crimes of my passing. There is no natural explanation for the persistence and pungency of the odor: I checked the sheet  for shit stains three times, to no avail. Whatever substance I’m emitting is as colorless as it odorous: some invisible taint to my sweat or dreams.

Isaac and the Leopard: Complete

Isaac waited in the rushes, the dank smell of bog and rot and summer shortening his breath. He watched for bubbles and golden eyes above the scum. He was patient, attentive and calm; there was nothing of the frantic boy in this staid and quiet hunter.

The soft plip of one breaking the surface froze Isaac. He willed himself part of the reeds, part of the water. More surfaced; he marked each skirt of ripples, figured his reach, then struck smoothly, a series of muted splashes the only disruption.  The first few lacked the fullness Isaac preferred; their slender, crooked bodies squirming out between his fingers. He let them leap free to the water, his quick hands beneficent.  He crouched deeper, toes splayed in the silt bottom; waiting for the pond to forget him. Minutes passed, the boy’s sun heavy back pushed him closer to the surface, near inches from crayfish returning to feed. Minnows darted in the shadows of his feet. He found a guilty peace in this part of hunt, something fraternizing in the communion. Years later he’d mourn these burrs of empathy, and how they’d fueled his cruelty.

Letter Day: 302; Literary requests

HEY AJ! Sorry to bother you but I need to write two poems for my college compositional class. Proper poets won’t reply to my emails, so I figured I’d ask you. Can you write me a poem about mans alienation from nature and tendency for self destruction?. If you could make it dark and moody, with a complex rhyme scheme, with a deep thematic counterpoint. I know it’s a lot ask…but what else are you doing these days?

TWO SHEET TWO DA WIND

T-Dot

I have to tell you, Sheets, you’re not much of salesmen. Still, I do have some free time on my hands, and my heart does course with molten poetry, so maybe I can help you out.

Chasing the dragon/My father lament