Tuesday, September 01, 2020

Tuesday poem #387 : Hamish Ballantyne : from BLUE KNIGHT

footsteps  downstairs
bye clare
attic footsteps
dark drink a whole pot of
to stir whirrings of the orb
    booming: bone
       A RED SQUARE 
   no ifs: trepid
no buts  
a red square creeps on wall

the size of envelope dawn
scours hills of the painting

clare leaves
early for horses
     haytoter    ours    (languagelesness and
 dunno that   dawn strikes 
dawn in a country she invented


scouring the hills for news
when I say name
you say fame
calling at the hillside
  echo echo
collection of dents in
the voicebox
bye clare but dreaming and didn’t
my work is of another
  kind   foamshod
a miner in the heart and the heart
    of the mountain

like messaien he was 
shot  by a hunter
   dumped his hands all 
           over the piano
into the boards like a bird
initial kid joy then the feeling
when child is the shape of the eye of a goat
     and paint drips down 
and kisses your brow


malachite in the gleaming cliff
  in the taletell
 raw around the tall

Blasted parallel to meaning
gaze down mineshaft
    realize it’s an ear

nanaimo dances
Heard the dawn
the others barged 
across harbour back
from dance 1 sobs 
whole way   a splash
horseplay   one makes 
crow of the rooster
Ill always   unwashed   
sheets smell enough to 
feign (smile) I have  
performed some deed 

clare holds aloft
by sun behind her hands
the donkeys grown
overfond and dogged
clare translates all gesture
in the film we might see 
watch the cat for clues

red slash axing dark barely
awake return w fleck 
of gold in the pocket
white smoke  boiled
fish sweaty low hat NO
the river is high
the green world is poison 
a horse get on
     plowing your own furrow

never enough
In the painting
the hillsides are red  god
           joy    to grasp a season so
like shooting an animal
blowing up its head

Hamish Ballantyne is a poet from Vancouver Island. He works seasonally as a mushroom picker and works on the Downtown Eastside the rest of the year. Hamish recently published Imitation Crab (KFB) and is translating Luis de Góngora's Solitudes.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

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