Well I see a number of names I recognise here already, but I thought I would
introduce myself.... Perhaps a couple of poems would do it best?
Liz Kirby
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A Fourteen Year Old Rollerblades in Parc Lafontaine
The girls will not leave us. Their voices,
where will they go? A coming heat to melt
the ribboning eye. The long gone sea recalls
its liquid state. Sand moves underfoot,
becomes air, is water, the cloudy passage of pupils.
They are willing to sit up all night if necessary.
How does rock grow? Only the girls are left.
Their lungs fill up from below. Sweet branches,
nutty trees, uphold the silence. Sheaves of fabric
roll and twist under their ribs. Rubber bands
through their bones, taut and holding good
so far. Roots seeking a whisper from the grass.
Inhaling the first floor from their mother’s footsteps.
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Rain On the Birch Tree
Rue Rachel Est – Montréal
Skin pits open pores where rain
sinks along the green vein.
A minute debris. Torn fragments of leaf
fine capillary breaks.
Breaths of cold air in the fluid
hand trail fine strands filament limbs.
Hair fine veins dead cells pulse
her fingernails carry rose pigment.
Breathing white and indented
the blue lips move.
Berry puckered finely wrinkled
nipple pinch of purple sand.
Water falling into water her surface.
(after Pipolotti Rist - I Am Called A Plant 1998-9)
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