Tuesday, February 07, 2023

Tuesday poem #514 : JUST SLEEPING : Simon Brown




See? There’s nothing to it. It’s a rock. They call it ghost rock, but it’s just a rock. See? This is a match. It’s for making fire. You scratch it on a rock, any rock at all, any time of day or night. See? You scratch it, and the sky splits open like an onion when it’s time to spill the soup. And you’re the one to spill it. You can make things happen. You can peel back the layers. You can peel and peel and peel. You can peel forever, really. Me, I’ve peeled. I’m not bragging. It didn’t take any special skill, and it definitely wasn’t fun. In fact, it almost killed me. But I’m not dead. No, I’m just sleeping.






Simon Brown (he/they) is a poet, translator and interdisciplinary artist from rural southwestern New Brunswick (Peskotomuhkati traditional territory) based in the Quebec City area (Wendat and Abenaki traditional territory). His English- and French-language texts have been presented in media artworks, collaborative performances, zines, and journals such as Lemon Hound, Estuaire, Poetry Is Dead, The Fiddlehead, periodicities, and The Anti-Languorous Project. Simon’s collections, chapbooks and artist’s books have been published by Vanloo, Moult, Le laps, squint press, Paper Pusher, Frog Hollow, and, most recently, above/ground press. simonbrown.ca

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

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