THIS IS WHERE All I want is to disappear suck the disappointments I have made down the vortex never to desire never to want never to make give me pain give me shame give me suffering cry cry cry I have towels to wipe my cringing face It’s dark in this hole but I must
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WHERE IS
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SEE Oh let’s see
RACK IT UP Let’s see let’s see there is nothing to see I think we might have one in your size Wait a minute two different poems Focus what you look at but there is nothing boss Nothing to see well then let’s get serious Your feet to the fire, ah yes, FOOT to the
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CRYING BLUES
Wrote this at least 20 years ago. Still happens. One of my depression symptoms that can be accommodated by presenting my reading as a pre-recorded video. One thing has changed though, I’m talking about it and have created LOOK show with the help of more than 12 artists, opening April 29th in Winnipeg, funded by
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NEGATIVE
NOTHING TO SEE willowy orthopedist tends to (me) black and white film negatives (screen)racked and raised, poised above my caregiver draws my orthopedist’s attention A flash of interest, then look goes pro swivels her gaze to my power chair looks at me differently now maybe figures I come from money exploiting my caregiver or the system pro
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ENNS THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS
MIRROR MIRROR I crash my wheelchair into the dresser, my mirror jumps, sweeps the CDs off the top of the stereo lands just so, not breaking, landing enough on the bed not to shatter, but shuddering loose in the frame, with nothing to reflect except the spackled ceiling. My mirror rests, no more selves to
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PROSPECTING
ALL MY PARANOIAS by Victor Enns They chase me down like a Thurber cartoon Some so simple as “you stink” as I sniff and sniff And can’t tell the difference since yesterday. There’s the one “you think you’re so smart,” all frown and sneer “you and your big words, who do you think you
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V IS FOR VOWELS, ABJECT
V is for Victor with a lot to say. Victor Cowie a prof of mine, unit loved with open of Manitoba’s first see whaT is happening to my language I\n am not due for meds for nearly an hour, and my body is making g a great effort tho to shut down any effort to
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PROSPECTING
The two stanzas below were found among the papers of Jimmy Bang since deceased. There are several unnamed poems which seem to be written in German or Germlish and using translation program back to English, back and forth like a really good game of horseshoes, a real kick in the pants. I lift my match light my cigarette
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A POEM FOR SUNDAY
LEAVING BOISSEVAIN I like how I smell when I wear cool blue deodorant lying in bed listening to girls with guitars rocking this way rocking that way where was she last night counting the tips at the end of her shift she was listening to girls with guitars dishing the blues Because there may be
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