{"id":4226,"date":"2015-11-26T21:08:39","date_gmt":"2015-11-26T21:08:39","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/?p=4226"},"modified":"2015-11-26T21:08:39","modified_gmt":"2015-11-26T21:08:39","slug":"surrey-girl-suite-of-surrey-poems-for-sound-thinking-literary-cabaret","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/?p=4226","title":{"rendered":"Surrey Girl. Suite of Surrey poems for Sound Thinking Literary Cabaret"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"11061283_10152921603612038_5926870663138505992_n-1\"<\/a><\/p>\n

The big move is finally accomplished, chaos ebbing as boxes disappear but absolutely no time for writing or blogging. I am preparing to read at the Sound Thinking Literary Cabaret on Saturday, as part of Voicing the City In\/verse: Reading Surrey and the Super-Suburb<\/a>, a two day symposium presented by Surrey Art Gallery, in partnership with South of Fraser Inter Arts Collective (SOFIA\/c) and Simon Fraser University\u2019s English Department. In the process I find myself traveling down Memory Lane. Nostalgic. Naturally.<\/p>\n

I am a Surrey girl and the \u201csuper-suburb\u201d is my old stomping ground, specifically Cloverdale, White Rock and Langley, back when you could build bonfires and party on the beach. We used to dig for oysters and clams too, dodging Gypsy Wheelers all the way home. I abhorred bikers and greasers, who seemed to dominate our teenaged landscape. Surrey wasn\u2019t quite as diverse then.<\/p>\n

Indeed we felt as though we lived on the on the periphery of Real Life, and could hardly wait to move to The City. As mighty as the Fraser is, I longed for the ocean, or, more ocean. To be surrounded by ocean. And mountains, because though I could see them, they were so far away, as distant as a mirage shimmering on the horizon.<\/p>\n

I loved the vast, bucolic Fraser Valley though: roaming its back roads, idling on the banks of the Nickel Mackel River getting high, Holsteins grazing, once coming over to investigate, startling us with their girth, inquisitiveness, stench. We skipped school a lot, anxious to escape everything. It may have been prime farmland, but that Surrey was undomesticated, a fantastic place to grow up. Run wild.<\/p>\n

That place-and the vigor of that place-has stayed with me, wherever I have gone, been, including some pretty mean streets. As it factors greatly into my strength as an individual, I thought it will be appropriate to share a few place poems.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I lived for a time on a horse ranch on Pacific Highway, feeding and watering purebred Palominos in exchange for rent. This is from Sideways<\/em>.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

SUM OF THE PARTS<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I sit on the fence, tomboy<\/p>\n

pondering the plight<\/p>\n

of the eunuch,<\/p>\n

the pinto, recently gelded.<\/p>\n

The studs nip, nag and ride him<\/p>\n

\u2018til he nearly breaks his leg<\/p>\n

in a badger hole.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

His altered state<\/p>\n

spooks the stallions.<\/p>\n

I am too young<\/p>\n

to know the difference<\/p>\n

but they know,<\/p>\n

as well as any male<\/p>\n

how heady the power is,<\/p>\n

how it lathers beneath a mount,<\/p>\n

how hard it is to navigate<\/p>\n

with worn out flanks at half mast,<\/p>\n

spurs more shiny than solid.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I gnaw on a stalk of flax,<\/p>\n

spitting up pieces of us.<\/p>\n

Body parts add up<\/p>\n

to carcass value.<\/p>\n

Reason enough<\/p>\n

to detract, degrade, distort.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Kick gone,<\/p>\n

the pinto cowers beneath the oak,<\/p>\n

sunshine streaming through his skeleton<\/p>\n

onto a plain that no longer exists.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Eventually I did leave the burbs and wound up in a series of cities, including Vancouver, landing in its punk rock scene along with fellow Surrey-ites Art Bergmann, John Armstrong, Bill Scherk, Gord Nicholl and Jim Cummins. This poem is inspired by my mother Corona, a Quebecois transplant who became entirely assimilated.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

WILLOW GARDEN<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Lazy river, bed of roses,<\/p>\n

blue butterflies float above<\/p>\n

black currant grapes,<\/p>\n

leave tiny rings of white<\/p>\n

powder on the fruit.<\/p>\n

The willow reminds me<\/p>\n

of our mother.<\/p>\n

Like all mothers<\/p>\n

she was beautiful once.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The kettle whistles,<\/p>\n

her ashes upon my sister\u2019s mantel<\/p>\n

though Martha swears to see her<\/p>\n

in the garden nearly every morning.<\/p>\n

Her spine stiffens<\/p>\n

recalling our mother\u2019s deeds.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I left home to forget, remember?<\/p>\n

To search and destroy.<\/p>\n

I left home with a burning belief<\/p>\n

in nothing,<\/p>\n

including punk rock.<\/p>\n

I have come to curse the day<\/p>\n

I entered the surf<\/p>\n

at the deep end of California,<\/p>\n

the way I refused<\/p>\n

to come up for air.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It was always too soon<\/p>\n

or never enough,<\/p>\n

but she waited<\/p>\n

knowing I was so much like her<\/p>\n

that river or ocean<\/p>\n

I would not drown,<\/p>\n

not all at once.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

From Three Blocks West of Wonderland<\/em>. This was written in 2009 so some of the cultural references might seem quaint.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

NIECE ONE AND NIECE TWO<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Girlie girls. Dollsome, though feelin\u2019 fugly today.<\/p>\n

Weed tough. Bug repulsed. Omigod.<\/p>\n

Army ant invasion! Three in the bed,<\/p>\n

one in her souvenir Las Vegas mug. Ewwwww.<\/p>\n

Deep bling, shoe, handbag yens. Boy irrational.<\/p>\n

One pierced, inked, the other not.<\/p>\n

One smokes, the other quit.<\/p>\n

One dances, the other won\u2019t. Equestrian.<\/p>\n

Determined to surmount rodeo. Reformed tweaker.<\/p>\n

Hard. Delicate. Her sister the dancer,<\/p>\n

if opportunity arises. Bodacious if required.<\/p>\n

If only she could acquire status without an audience.<\/p>\n

Super happy though! Get to chill sometimes, between feuds.<\/p>\n

Sipping vanilla lattes, they diss rivals, friends,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

scattershot in their skank attacks. At night a dream<\/p>\n

flash-cards the next day\u2019s tactics. They will not rest<\/p>\n

until the furies within are released, Kelly Ellard fashion.<\/p>\n

Not! Calamity Jane and Princess Pink, divergent<\/p>\n

as sisters must be. Gems, both revealing their facets<\/p>\n

judiciously. Grew up in haste, in the heat of battle<\/p>\n

for custody. Struggle to make their beauty<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

marks, forever hearing they\u2019re fat. Not phat. It bites.<\/p>\n

Yeah. Whatever. Toil as clerks to purchase the gear.<\/p>\n

Uggs. Mac. Little tank tops, big leather belts. Hoop<\/p>\n

earrings. Beaded, embroidered tunic tops. Neo-hippie shit.<\/p>\n

Fussies. Take a little taste. Gross! Toss the rest. Old boyfriend<\/p>\n

boring, new one a bad boy replete with muscle car, death wish.<\/p>\n

Played tiddly winkes with an ATV, maimed his little brother.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Lime jello shooters. Wicked! Black hotties, swooning<\/p>\n

over Usher. Found out cornrows hurt. Itching<\/p>\n

for the next phone call, photo op. Hear gangta raps.<\/p>\n

Shave. Text. Flext. Defoliate. Swap MP3s. Wax. Body wash.<\/p>\n

Flip-flop into formal occasions. Live in fear<\/p>\n

of brown rice, lentils, radicchio. Subsist on watermelon,<\/p>\n

grapefruit. Count carbs. Suck orange popsicles. You can take<\/p>\n

the girl out of Cloverdale, can take mustang out.<\/p>\n

Feed her Caesar\u2019s salad, don\u2019t tell her anchovies are fish. Yuk.<\/p>\n

Take her to resorts, spas, don\u2019t buy the travel guides. Novels.<\/p>\n

Auntie reminds them. Check your drinks. One Vansterdam twit<\/p>\n

pop found a dosage in her screwdriver. No. She is not<\/p>\n

your bootlegger. Yes, she remembers what it was like<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

to be a teenager, her shock at discovering whaling, elephant<\/p>\n

safaris. Poaching methods. Wired lab bunnies. Ethiopian famine.<\/p>\n

Leg-hold traps. Still not certain she\u2019s assimilated it.<\/p>\n

Her sorrow, deciding she was complicit, could not change<\/p>\n

any of it. Blistering convictions. Belligerent. Raging<\/p>\n

feminist rants, picking fights in the bar, no one carded back then.<\/p>\n

Same hair, bellbottoms. Spares them a lecture on revivalism.<\/p>\n

Not easy, getting noticed. Swarmed, before it was called swarming.<\/p>\n

One long semester. Revolt on the home front.<\/p>\n

Status quo, tables upended, parental despots toppled.<\/p>\n

Near lethal collision on Colebrook Road, crippled<\/p>\n

with loathing. Night owl days. Pacing insomniac<\/p>\n

seesawing up. Seesawing down.<\/p>\n

Homicidal, suicidal thoughts<\/p>\n

turning to threats. No one listened.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

APPLETON<\/strong><\/p>\n

Hookah squats on carpet, Buddha-<\/p>\n

esque. Undulating spirals of sapphire<\/p>\n

smoke hula up her nose. That buzz.<\/p>\n

That buzz that slows your blood,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

calls you back to bed like a lover.<\/p>\n

Soothes your inner asshole.<\/p>\n

BC bud. Best bud<\/p>\n

in the world. Worth risking jail for.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

High-resolution satellite images.<\/p>\n

Narcs’ warrant executed Tuesday.<\/p>\n

Grow-op raided Wednesday.<\/p>\n

Dozens of firearms. Five thousand plants.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Big bust for a small town, says Constable Cook.<\/p>\n

For export, for sure. Cultivation facilities dismantled.<\/p>\n

Straight people relieved. Green party over,<\/p>\n

but Zoe cried. It was the best job ever!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dope dealers pay well. Her boyfriend<\/p>\n

sold product at school. Their responsibilities<\/p>\n

included digging a tunnel under the border,<\/p>\n

blaming black fingernails and muddy jeans<\/p>\n

on dirt biking at the gravel pit.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Parents were shocked. We thought she was<\/p>\n

on Facebook, chatting. We thought he was<\/p>\n

on the Internet, with her, boy’s father chiding,<\/p>\n

it\u2019sAPPLEton, son, not Marijuanaton!<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The big move is finally accomplished, chaos ebbing as boxes disappear but absolutely no time for writing or blogging. I am preparing to read at the Sound Thinking Literary Cabaret on Saturday, as part of Voicing the City In\/verse: Reading Surrey and the Super-Suburb, a two day symposium presented by Surrey Art Gallery, in partnership […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[4],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4226"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4226"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4226\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4230,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4226\/revisions\/4230"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4226"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4226"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4226"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}