Well, it's summer, and the heat has not abated hereabouts. In fact, our air conditioning unit has asked for an air conditioning unit.
On days, like this, all you want to do is curl up in the dark and the cool, maybe at a movie theatre, maybe in your home equivalent, and wait the heat out.
So this Poetry Friday, let's go to the flicks, with Kay Burkman's "You & Your Late Movies" (from Champ).
You bring some beer. We've got the popcorn.
Maybe it's the summer heat. Maybe it's because of the recent nomination of Jan Wong's Apron Strings for the 2018 Taste Canada Awards. Maybe it's because it's nearly dinnertime when this post is being prepared, and we're very hungry.
Whatever it is, we've got food on the brain. We cannot think of anything else.
Except poetry! Because it's Poetry Friday!
So let's combine our love of poetry with our need of sustenance with Patrick Warner's tasty, mouth-watering "The Chocolate Chip Pancake is Innocent" (from Perfection).
If you're like us, right now you're holed up inside, praising the inventor of air conditioner.
By which we mean, it's very, very, VERY hot outside right now.
To take your mind off the prospect of walking across the surface of the sun on the way home, today's Poetry Friday entry has been specially chosen to give you a lot to mull over while you melt into the concrete.
Please enjoy Gary Geddes' intriguingly titled "Mahatma Gandhi Refuses an Invitation to Write for Reader's Digest" (from Active Trading).
Are you planning a Canada Day celebration? Can we come?
Well, we'll provide you with some poetic summer imagery anyway, just because we're good like that.
Please enjoy Robert Gibbs' "Summer In With Goodness and Mercy" (from The Tongue Still Dances).
Summer In With Goodness and Mercy
This day's event The word
surely crosses my mind No
I've dandled you too long
worm not to spin you away
uncrushed (to trot yourself back
on all those feet is doom enough)
What's to come? That's not
the question but what to make of all
this blue this daylight Aha
the fledgeling swallows dip
and crackle at the cat harrying her
the more the more she spits
They're showing off to their mother
how well they can do it fall just short
of the murderous deft cuffings
This heat these shadows
my own among them squat
under my chair the sumachs and the triple
prickled thistles thorns and raspberries
drink light Suppertime
a breeze everything moves birds from
everywhere their six callings
crowd one another then as suddenly
none Someone's on my neck
You again or your wife-to-be looking
for a like reprieve? fat blue-lit
overdue for sleep see you've talked
me into talking and I flip you off
unsquushed another year's raid
between the two of you
O watch my shadow grow
that word again
flies in and out