Happy birthday you old cow

Mon May 23, 2005

It’s Victoria day today, in Canada that is, and I’m not at all sure why it’s celebrated, I’m assuming it’s Queen Victoria’s birthday, but I could be wrong. Actually, I’m in a gloriously good mood, but alas, the poem I’m including today is quite incongruent with my current mellow vibe. I am running out of poems, you see. I certainly don’t have any happy ones left.

I don’t wish to strike a dark note; in general life is great. I recently finished writing another song, which my brother produced. I’ve been busy with work, for good and ill. I was on the 8:00 pm news in Korea (KBS) for a documentary they did on Korean children studying in Canada. When I found out the story had a slightly negative slant, I was glad I did not widely publicize this event. Even so, it was cool to be on the telly (albeit for a total of 5 seconds max). Yesterday Angela and I went on a grueling, yet enchanting, hike up Mount Townsend in the Olympic mountain range. I started having my accustomary visions, the ones that happen when I’m sick and dehydrated. The thought that lingers even now is: Why is Chlorophyll green and not red? If grass, vegetation and trees were bright red in colour instead of green, would red be considered a colour soothing to the eyes?

Here is my dark poem for the day:

The Liminal powder room

Sickly passage warp the ways

I can function, like being born into the care

Of death’s harbinger,

A far worse fate than meeting the master.

(by all accounts)

Finality is stretched into eternity

And I too am stretched too thin like opaque paint

On a mottled wall

Primed for failure, preened to faint

Like a flustered lady trussed up

In her corset, pink and ruddy

A neophyte reaper socialite



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