Thank Mel Sarnese for inviting me to read at the Canadian Author’s Association Toronto Branch event ( Grano, 2035 Yonge Street. 7:00 to 10:00 on Sept 20). I met Mel during our 2008 summer Poetry workshop. And I remember her poetry… here is one I wrote after her reading…
I remember the poets
from our summer poetry workshop.
We sunseat in the George town
building. Mr. Babstock stretches
his long legs…
throwing us with
his summoned power—
to be, right now,
the slaves of imagination.
his summoned power—
to be, right now,
the slaves of imagination.
Breezes come in and out.
M pencil touches the white sheet –
how I wish a river flows over me.
We take turns to read,
Mel reads her part at last.
M pencil touches the white sheet –
how I wish a river flows over me.
We take turns to read,
Mel reads her part at last.
Her SARS’ story floats like a ghost.
Today I still feel like watching a flim.
Those cold late nights,
after all fallen asleep,
her two toddlers emerged
upon a deserted park, swung their short bliss.
They held on the tiny joy of freedom,
relished them bit by bit
during their quarantined life.
Confined by walls,
they drew the blossom of imagination.
after all fallen asleep,
her two toddlers emerged
upon a deserted park, swung their short bliss.
They held on the tiny joy of freedom,
relished them bit by bit
during their quarantined life.
Confined by walls,
they drew the blossom of imagination.
Something one could never teach.
Mr. Babstock dismisses us
to our lives.