Avoided, Averted

This was published in the fall 2008 edition of Yellow Medicine Review. It's a very early poem - thought I'd put it out there. Again.

Avoided, Averted

Somewhere between St Augustine

and Nunavut

Someone created a policy

of Fear.

Somewhere in the hallowed halls of our history

is a room made for undesirable things.

behind mahogany doors

teak tea carts, folded table cloths

and discussions on another Indian Summer -

The remains of our lives lie still

Wrapped in the event horizon

of side glances

averted gazes

and ellipses not of our making.

Nestled deep in these cities

lay pockets of fear and worry

cradled in a nest of infinite density …

Tip toe past

Breathe lightly

Do not disturb the dividing line -

Of undesirable things

Place all your fears,

All your weapons

Place all your waste,

regrets and hesitations

On the other side.

Reserve a place for these things

Keep them with us

Maintain a steady stream

of your fears –

circling around in perpetual accretion

And as the candescence of ignited waste

Lights this world –

We will reveal your reflection to you

Coffee. House. Memories.

At eighteen I walked into a coffee shop-  while my conscience was just begging to escape the shell I'd built for it. Back then, I could feel every person and surface from inside the pit of my stomach - the kind of sensation only a teenager could have. It seemed fitting then, that the first thing my eyes were trained to were the walls ...


Brick walls
A couch on the landing
Where an older man sat
And smiled – I was undone
While his girlfriend watched from the bar

I sat on the balcony
With close friends who were aware
That our return downstairs was anticipated - 
By eyes eager to see how we moved in our youth

Whether we did it smoothly
Were confident
and Calculating – 

Whether we moved like water:
Flexible and insistent
Strong, smooth
Soothing to those who might
take us in


Brick walls
Couldn’t keep the ghosts
Of long nights, moving lights, house music,
Or the recklessness of young bodies:
Fast. Fickle. Temporary.

As we left we passed
A vase holding biscotti
- that no one bought

And a sign that read:
“The bread that goes both ways.”

(Java Coffeehouse – Victoria BC 1996)

Snow

Stretch-

Grasp the frigid air

Directions pulled out

Of a liquid slowly dying

a starburst of water

A branch of light crystallized

Amidst darkness

A soft movement

A dance played out in fractal precision

Elsewhere, uniform shadow

Reveals the same -

Liquid and night

Caress each other

With the precision of careful lovers

That couple in solitude

While falling to a canopy

of one hundred billion similarly captured lights.

Buffy Ste Marie - FNH Magazine Article

Sometimes we are lucky enough to get a glimpse of person’s life, like looking at a landscape painting in a gallery. If you approached one, you wouldn’t dare assume that the painter saw only the world in small squares. And if you looked long enough, your own imagination would fill in the grey space; where a rock face becomes a mountain range, and painted harbors whisper of shores on the other side of the world.

This is the sense one gets of the life of Buffy Ste Marie. She seems to represent something more than a singer, an educator, or an activist. Perhaps that was why she has received eight Honorary Doctorates, and why we were honored to interview her about them:

People get really excited when they know you're coming to town, especially around here. Did you imagine that you'd be creating and having an audience for this long?

Thanks for the good words. No I didn't think I'd last in show biz more than a week, but I expected the songs might, and I deliberately tried to make certain songs that would cross languages and generations. The songs were about classic human themes, including the ones about specific Aboriginal issues.

Your first honorary doctorate is from the University of Regina (1996).  What did you think when you'd received the news?

I thought it was really nice, especially since it was a Doctor of Laws degree, which is their highest honour; and for them to give me this particular degree represented sort of a wonderful milestone in Regina, which has so many times been associated with systemic racism. Also because they are a sister university to the (then) brand new First Nations University in Regina it meant a lot to me, as I too support FNU. The acceptance speech I gave focused on ‘Whose heritage is it anyway?’ I love interacting with universities. In a way they are the most conservative but also the most liberating of institutions […] I hated high school but loved university. It saved my life and I recommend university to anybody who can possibly get there.

In your acceptance speech, you said,  "the teachers who taught me best were people who never had the ghost of a chance to go to university. So I take great delight in sharing this honour you give me with them." Have people come forward to thank you for this?

Oh gosh, people come up to me after every concert, every speech, and I know so many people in Regina. And people in Regina particularly are used to me being grateful to family and community people, and yes they express their thanks to me for the little things I do too. In the last few months I've done the Aboriginal Achievement Awards, the Regina Folk Festival, and a couple of weeks ago the commemoration and symphony concert for Chief Paipot, so there's been a lot of thanks and pride going around. We all acknowledge each other, express thanks and gratitude […] It's kind of a family tradition.

Is there something you'd like to say to those considering University that would help them on their future journey?

I hated high school (really needed to get out of town), but I loved university. It changed my life big time. My advice: if there's any way, give it a try. Try it semester by semester. If you hate it, you can discontinue. But every semester you get more great subjects to choose from. Interesting things you choose yourself from a very delicious catalog, subjects that high school never mentioned. […] You'll have a roof over your head for four great growing up years and come out the other side with a degree and a head full of experiences.

             Buffy Ste Marie’s life – and the effects of her work reaches much further than this record can attest. She also created the Nihewan foundation to “help people go to college,” and also created the Cradleboard project to “serve kids in grades 3-12 and teachers college.” Her work in education, like her music and her words – like the waters of an ocean, seem to touch the harbors of many shores.

Find out more about Buffy Ste Marie at www.buffystemarie.com

Old Night Mare

(This is the third edition of this poem. I like it a lot, but thought initially it could be a bit more accessible. So I tinker every now and then. It was one of my very first poems, and sums up my frustrations pretty well)

Old Night Mare

The price of office,

The badge of one’s complacency

Is a burden told by taut green drapes

By endless debate on old problems

By Commissions, policies

And repeated redress

Caveats and conventions

Comprise the broken body

to a face we believed

just and fair

Corridors Crisscross ahead

Of a blackened tower

A façade of peace –

Hollowed by smoke and ash

Our direction has been taken from us:

Men once hopeful

Are pulled downward

Tired old skin drawn out over green lamps

Tables and carpeted stairs-

Melting into the scenery

Pulled downward into depths

Lengthened by the heft of countless attempts

At legislative redemption

While the blood of good intentions oozes outward

Seeps through the floors

And downward into the bowels

Of our good parliament

Glycemia

(This was a response to a discussion on sugar.  For two years now, I've had this poem. Unlike all the others, I just can't find a way to improve it, or maybe I just don't want to.)

Glycemia

In front of me, the cake bleeds itself onto the paper

Fuscia, green, and azure dyes invade the pristine surface

Like a pen stroke interrupted,

And my thoughts pour out wild onto the kitchen table.