Harold Janzen, a Canadian poet of vividly unusual imagery and cadence, lives in the Southern Manitoba country on three acres of oak trees and the meandering Dead Horse Creek, just outside the small Town of Morden of which he is Parks Director. With his wife Lori, a grade 4 & 5 teacher, he has lived and taught school in Honduras for a year, explored most of the United States and parts of Mexico and Europe, and most recently spent five months travelling throughout southeast Asia. |
AMELIA amelia why are you painting the sky blue you with your house with no doors passing tv dinners thru the window amelia why are you scared so high on the ladder sketching the ozone pressing your ceiling fixing a hole amelia why haven't you been taking your iron pills sedate and alone dancing forever you must be so tired amelia why aren't you reading the life of salvador dali eating the graced mashed potatoes an ecstasy rhyme amelia why with your face full of sorrow is tomorrow all laughter does your yin yang tattoo appear backwards in the mirror of my eyes amelia why are you painting the sky blue you with your house with no doors passing tv dinners thru the window THIS POEM TO SALVADOR (traveling in some kind of vehicle) because she's going to figueras spain to touch the grave of great inspiration because i've got this poem to salvador i'd like to have buried beneath the crystal dome in the museum of his work because i'm obsessed not with the art so much as the dream and am enthralled with this opposite being because i'm concerned and have never been burned by the word or am worried because she is surrealism because neither knows the life of dali apart from what's been read while traveling in some kind of vehicle OF TIME AND TIME FINDING an intense obsession and division from sobriety from reality in dreams and visions words a smile collides corners hit the brow the seed is set and born astray the conclusion will never relax entering another entertaining and inspiring just like a lover on the other side a beautiful friend dear eye behold her she synonymous with powerful flight ancient history she's looking up thru the waist and into the future into the cascading stuff of found time and time finding SO CLOSE BEHIND mapping misery i'm on the trampled path thru brittle bluff breathing heavy clouds of unarmed memory smoke rings chain me surrounding galaxy starry ice-mazed gallery snow-glazed wax-like branch grid and down thru it my loving nature waning the full moon used to phase me only makes me crazy now my emotions snag in the bramble i've loved you more or less thru time and now you're on my mind tracking me as if from endless space the clinging past that complicates and can't be swept or wept away my shadow casts a low profile each stark island of naked trees strangely resembling the last you closing in behind always finding the warm coals of my original fire with your unbending survival you easily kindle another resting just long enough to maintain the haunting deja vu you hound me with why's my restless nature the wolf and yours as if a trapper with too much heart to settle on the capture undecided in pursuit my free spirit tortured keeps moving "strangle me and take me then for what i am" dear god I walk in circles fighting the urge to break completely edge of a twig snaps my splintered instincts get up and go you stalking intently into my vertigo POEM TO THE DEAD the closest i get with this poem to the death of the moment is from behind words the closest i get is this road to the left or the right to be able to say this is not for the living but for the souls that are making our beds when the coral is red on the sea as the blood that is flowing thru me she will be on the plains of my own belief the distance of memory the space between trees both are like nothing both are as wide as the breath that we breathe this is a poem to the dead who are reading this over my head and finally with laughter we capture an essence a presence perhaps a leaf that has fallen away by this last verse i consent and write my forgivings and slowly am passing to some other place by this last verse the fragile skin face of water is rippling
HAROLD JANZEN: "I have been writing seriously for the past twenty-some years, initially influenced by the music and lyrics of Bob Dylan and the Beatles, especially John Lennon. Later I discovered the Beat Generation, concentrating on Jack Kerouac and Gary Snyder. The poetry and writing of Octavio Paz, Paul Bowles and Malcolm Lowery are also a constant source of inspiration. My poetry has been published: in the hard copy Manitoba periodicals Prairie Fire, the Gopher and Paper Rainbows; in Pieces Of A Jigsaw Puzzle, a multi-cultural anthology; and on-line poetry websites including Recursive Angel, Olympus, Ygdrasil, Snakeskin and Poetry Cafe. Two self-published chap books are also available: The Cat Sleeps In My Head and Ultravisions, a collaboration with artist Marcel Debreuil." E-mail address: hjanzen@mb.sympatico.ca. |
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