So true.

May 21, 2010

G. posted a poem this evening, so I think I’ll do one too. I have some real blogging to do tomorrow morning, but for now I’ll leave you with a prose poem (we can discuss if that’s a real thing) by George Bowering (mixed feelings about him, too). But I like this one a lot.

George Bowering, My Darling Nellie Grey, Talonbooks, 2010. From the March cycle.


I REMEMBER my father and me having competing

teams. It used to make me wonder, to know that he was a fan of

the Giants, say, long before I was born, in his own life story.

My kid brothers are both Montreal Canadiens fans, and I don’t

understand that, because the Canadiens were my father’s team.

I took him to see them in Vancouver, the first time in his life,

which never did get long enough. He was a Canadiens fan, and

I don’t know why, because in rural British Columbia we were

pretty well all Toronto Maple Leafs fans, though my uncle

Gerry was somehow a Boston Bruins fan. So it was my dad’s

Habs versus my Leafs, It was his Giants versus my Dodgers.

My father, who took a bar of soap into the lake. His Indians

versus my Red Sox. No football, no basketball. You had to

have a team, and stay with them and be serious about it. Except

for my mother. She has always rooted for whatever team is

playing against your team, for the competition, even if it was

the New York Yankees.

One Response to “So true.”

  1. G said

    It’s cliche to say, but can one define or put in a small box with a list of items what poetry is?

    I have similar trouble with Charles Bukowski’s work. I’m not sure if it is poetry or just the inane ramblings of a drunken drug-fueled postal working bum.

    It does not detract from the beauty and wonder, but I’m not sure if it’s poetry or prose.

    But then, another question comes to mind…does it really matter? As long as one is enjoying the text.

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