Sketches Toward A Self-portraitBook - 2010
From Library Staff
Many of the poems in this collection are as funny as its cover.
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We are the animals who talk the fables / in which the animals talk. We are talking / animals, claiming that animals don't talk.
It must be October. I was watching a hockey game, / a baseball game and a football game at the same time, / drinking a beer and munching mixed nuts.
I asked the dog, What exactly is time? / He misunderstood the question. He wagged / his tail. It was time for me to feed him.
I can't keep track of what's been played. / My sisters can talk and play and drink and count, / all at the same time. Jane says, Pay attention. / / We laugh together. Pay up, they tell me, / You lost. Again. We laugh together. / I'm the luckiest player. I'm paying attention.
Canadian cold, this weather, / and I didn't plug in my car last night, / and ice formed and snow fell till morning; / / so why in hell can't someone invent / a windshield scraper that will scrape / on its own, the weather be damned; / / but no, a brush at one end, a blade at the other, / something the Cro-Magnon crowd might have / made overnight, if they'd had Hondas;
The meadowlarks sing / haiku on prairie fence posts: / barbed wire notations.
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