Saturday, June 26, 2010

THE POWER OF THE LIQUID LINE

























all images by Lori D Graham "Photographic Evidence"
THE POWER OF THE LIQUID LINE

On Thursday Night I went to the Poet’s G20, an instalment of LiveWords (the monthly reading series organized by Edward Nixon) at the Black Swan on the Danforth. The occasion was the launch of the “Cultural Mischief” edition of Rampike Magazine. Pick one up, it’s worth it. Pages filled with multigenerational innovative poets from Frank Davie to Jenny Sampirisi. It was a wonderful event. The room was packed and sticky. People were jovially enraged by the local political situation. The art was diverse, from a surrealist long poem, to plunderverse, to post-card art and on… Gregory Betts read one of his 3 word poems based on some words from his G20 story from the last post (see below for what he’s been up to with that).

Then, last night, a friend and I made our way downtown, as is our right as citizens of this city (and heck, even if we were tourists… … hmm, where did all the tourists go?…), and found ourselves walking down a street near the AGO that was obviously meant as a staging area for cops. They filled the street like groups waiting to march in the Pride Parade except these were no revellers, they were in full riot gear and stuffed into minivans like a circus clown sketch gone lethal.


It’s 1pm Saturday June 26, 2010. I’m sitting in an internet cafĂ© in the Annex. Not far from me, starting at Queen’s park there are protests and marches. Many of my friends are there. Their bodies, demonized by the current government. Under attack by the throngs of cops that have come, not to keep the peace, but to treat Citizens as Terrorists. Why aren’t I there? I believe that the fight for social justice and the process of peace truly is a 365 day per year endeavour. I believe in the power of the liquid lines of poetry, music, sculpture, painting, photography… I believe that a “diversity of tactics” includes artistic ones and so, I AM here!! And so are you, my affinity group!













MY BROTHER AND I EXAMINE THEIR MATERIALS

Toronto, First Day of Summer, 2010


Finally the cops can be both tourists
and enforcers. Gawk and walk, one-ups,
memories of shots from Resident Evil and A History of Violence,

Killshot, Saw’s impersonations of justice twisted, sure,
but righteousness can’t help its brutality. The big, round one
keeps talking about Owning Mahowny and what the guy did wrong.

This city, its country, its dissented voices, its discipline of the bodies
attached. Go here. Keep quiet. My brother a tourist, legal, curious.
We leave the red cap at Union Station blinking. The cops lean. Steel themselves

in the heat. What’s not to love about jersey wall and a length of chainlink
stretched across what would be the horizon if we were on the outskirts
of Orangeville, maybe, or Edmonton. But this chainlink’s tighter than chainlink,

it’s new and jagged, and the big, round cop, still mumbling about card-counting,
lifts a weak lens to the fence, twenty feet out.
He swoops it down and over, at me, my brother. And shoots.


- Laurie D Graham
















OR THE MASKOKA CHEIFS

medieval adherents still photography
in nature products evident in the maps

mixed names demonstrate uniform
choices are population discounts

fir trees measure dock chairs
twenty please look in on how eden

mapped pasts we need in three time
not blind beyond chef pickerel sauce

muskoka is excellent if off disappears
is hearth fierce shaman love

from above and below nickel belting
ribbed canoes glide in with no ego

--------------------------------

med adh sti pho
inn pro evi int map

mix nam dem uni
cho are pop dis

fir tre mea doc cha
twe ple loo ino how ede

map pas wen int tim
not bli bey che pic sau

mus ise xce ifo dis
ish ear fie sha lov

fro abo and bel nic bel
rib can gli inw noe

(old northern translation)


lynn mcclory
june 25, 2010

















DISPATCH FROM GREGORY BETTS


I've started taking that story (from the last post), breaking it apart, and reposting it on
facebook three words at a time -- inviting people to take the story in their
own directions. You can see the results so far here:

http://threewordsperpoem.blogspot.com/

Feel free to contribute too.

( Editor’s Note: Below is an example created at the Rampike Launch on Thursday night, the formatting is mine so check it out on the actual site, or steal these lines and take them out into the street!):

Friday, June 25, 2010
#95 – Faceless But Booked









Faceless but bookedon the site, in the mudword after word after word after wordall transparent charlatanssteams, thirstyFaceless but bookedfences invade my dreamsthe Western Marcheswe only have one scriptwhat do I do with that meatball?make it detoxdetox vegsmorgulon, smorgulax
Faceless but booked off the plane from TulitaI land, I almost faintthe people (400 people, no restaurants)the rushI am curedof my fear of marigolds
I ClaudiusI borrow your bike(don’t trust Greg Betts)I borrow your beer and friendscoffee pottable toptelephoneFaceless but effacingthe matriarchical peacewe’ve called the doctorthe crown, the architect’s erectionAllan Briesmaster, Claudio Gaubio, Michael Christopher Holmes, Aaron Tucker, Jenny Sampirisi, rob mclennan, Frank Davey, Gary Barwin, Lindsay Tipping, Jim Johnstone, Babar Khan, others.

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