Poor SamIAm. Our pup Sam had to have surgery on his leg, a damaged ligament. He’s in a lot of pain and managed to rip the bandage off even with a cone on his head. We have to keep him immobilized which is requiring constant vigilance. He is a terrier through and through.

I was cleaning out our despicable crawl space yesterday—crawl spaces are truly evil, forcing you to hunch over though I invariably bump my head anyway—and was startled to hear one of the boxes I grabbed break out into “I feel good, like I knew that I would !” by James Brown. I inspected the contents and found one of those musical greeting cards. Cute.

While on Salt Spring I spotted some typical islander humour. Along one stretch of Walker’s Hook road was a place called The Meadows. It looked like some sort of retreat centre; there were stables, a dining hall and cottages. A little further down the road was a dilapidated old house on some overgrown acreage and a crude, hand-painted sign boasting The Brambles. Islanders don’t like pretentiousness, do like to knock people off their high horses whenever possible.

Working on the tree book. I didn’t know the native aspen were called trembling aspen. So poetic. I’ve incorporated it into Whore In The Eddy, which has been selected for another anthology, Anvil Press’s Verse Map of Vancouver, edited by George McWhirter. I refer to aspen in the line, “only cool airstreams of aspen leaves,” have changed it to “only cool airstreams of trembling aspen leaves.” Nor did I know that its leaves are considered “distinctive, known to quiver in the slightest breeze.” I learned recently that the only place in the Lower Mainland that has aspen trees is the UBC endowment lands, or Pacific Spirit Park and so when George asked where the poem was set—he needed an address—I let him know Vancouver’s missing women inspired the poem, particularly the murder of Tracey Leigh Chartrand who worked as a prostitute in Mount Pleasant. She went missing in October, 1988 and her remains were found the following spring on the UBC Endowment Lands. I couldn’t be more specific than that. My husband grew up in Point Grey, said that indeed there are quite a few marshes, wetlands there. Bowen Island is like that too, lots of fens and marshes in the thick of the woods. I’m always surprised to come upon them while hiking.

Oh and the other thing I forgot to mention about the ROCKsalt anthology is that one of the first times my poetry was ever published was in an issue of Mona’s Literary Storefront Newsletter. Funny how after all these years, our literary paths cross again. Her press, Mother Tongue Publishing, is hosting a novel contest and I want to enter The Town Slut’s Daughter. Good to have a deadline.

Tuesday, Dec. 9

Travel Day though I should arrive back on Bowen late afternoon. I might be in time to take care of a few phone calls and business. On the Vesuvius Bay ferry to Crofton, looking at an ugly mill on the water, lots of those in BC of course, smack dab in the middle of the most beautiful surroundings an industrial glen of trailers, spewing smokestacks and barges of wood chips/waste. I know people need jobs but I still don’t understand why the few should profit from the citizenry’s trees, the world’s citizenry. I don’t think people should have exclusive access to the mountains or the oceans either. I believe in Canada, people can’t own the beach.

I had a dream about Justin Timberlake probably because I watched an episode of Punkd a while back where they posed as IRS agents and pretended they were seizing his assets. I dreamed I was his girlfriend or his mother and he said, “You should have warned me.” Obviously I must have dreamed I was his mother because certainly, I am old enough. I’ve always thought he was a talented performer and fatally cute.

In the news, those idiots in Ottawa can’t get it together to govern it seems. Why didn’t the Liberals appoint a new leader before the election? The Daily Show did a bit where Canadian Samantha Bee clung to the Queen in so many words and speaking of words, “meh” from the Simpsons has made it into the dictionary and I didn’t know this but “Doh” has been in the dictionary for years now.

I am meeting with Tina tomorrow morning to discuss our book and a book proposal. We will come up with a production schedule which will provide me with another deadline. I have about seven more to write. It’s rather a painstaking process and of course the challenge, as always, will be finding time without distractions to get the work done. Here is a work-in-progress.

PREVAIL

Brinkworthy.
Fallow.
Ruddy sheen,
wine splotchy
giraffe freckled legs
hackneyed off,
stalk breezy fools
through looby hollows.
Lured to mirages,
thrust toward blue, falling
into ocean or sky?
Whistling monkey mouth
kisses wifty brat goodbye.
Sobering weather.
Bilabial balance.
Turbidity, tension, lies gone.
Roles over,
wreck rose up
holy
to dance
through the mire.