Tuesday poem #612 : Charlie Petch : The Anatomy of the Cecil Hotel

 

To be performed as the voice of the hotel. Make loop pedal builds of elevator sounds and murmuring and any other hotel sounds that seem necessary.

My guests arrive
enter through my toe
ride elevators
up my spinal column
sometimes they
make love in my ulna
fight in my fibula
become a clot of blood
in my venous cava

many have thrown open
my eyelids to leap
claw at my sides
as they realize
they want to live
on their way to death

I am a library
of human triumph and tragedy 
each furnished atrium
houses stories of resilience
and complete defeat

there’s always a vacancy
when the world shows
how ugly it can be
just ring the bell
the ghosts will help
you to your rented
womb

 

 

 

 

Charlie Petch (they/them, he/him) [photo credit: Nika Belianina] is a disabled/queer/transmasculine multidisciplinary artist who resides in Tkaronto/Toronto. A poet, playwright, librettist, musician, lighting designer, and host, Petch was the 2017 Poet of Honour for the speakNORTH national festival, winner of the Sheri-D Golden Beret Award from The League of Canadian Poets (2020), and founder of Hot Damn it's a Queer Slam. Petch is a touring performer, as well as a mentor and workshop facilitator. Their debut poetry collection, Why I Was Late (Brick Books), won the 2022 ReLit Award, and was named "Best of 2021" by The Walrus. Their film with Opera QTO, Medusa's Children, premièred 2022.  They have been featured on the CBC's Q, were the Writer In Residence for Berton House (2023), were long-listed for the CBC Poetry Prize in 2021. Their solo show "No one's special at the hot dog cart" debuted at Theatre Passe Muraille in 2024.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

Tuesday poem #611 : David Currie : I-Phone 15 Pro

 

Hey Guys,

This poem is sponsored by Squarespace.

At a cottage weekend, we give our Siris new accents.  I give mine an Irishman’s voice.  Siri doesn’t sound like surveillance anymore. He is Michael Sullivan, a Holodeck paramour. It doesn’t matter what Siri sounds like – a Siri is a Siri is a Siri all the same. I ask Michael Sullivan to write me a poem and now I’m afraid he writes better than I do. Michael, a singularity listening to our conversations and writing us poems. Siri light, to seek out new life. Siri Play music and new Civilizations.  Siri Stop boldly going where no one has gone before.

You’re home now. A distant sound from a faraway village. I’m afraid of your pitchforks, of a hydra in an apron and the silence will fall. Siri play The Invisible Man. Siri who is Edward Cullen?  Change voice to Kathy Bates. Siri, Hear No Evil. Siri Speak No Evil. Siri.

Siri?

Siri?

 

[taken from Prose-Poetry Sequence “Okay, Computer”]

 

 

 

BIO [from Bing Co Pilot AI]: Dave Currie is not a poet, he war hero who received the Victoria Cross, the highest award for bravery, for his actions in the Battle of Normandy during the Second World War. He died in Ottawa, Ontario, in 1986 and was buried in Greenwood Cemetery, Owen Sound, Ontario.

I’m sorry, but I don’t know of any poet named Dave Currie. Perhaps you are thinking of Robert Currie, who is a poet and fiction writer from Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan. He was the Saskatchewan Poet Laureate from 2007 to 2009, and has published several books of poetry and prose. Or maybe you are referring to David Currie, the president of the Nova Scotia Bird Society, who is an avid birdwatcher and has shared his stories and insights about the birds of Nova Scotia.  David Currie is a Canadian conductor who was the music director and conductor for the Ottawa Symphony Orchestra from 1992 until 2016.

You might be looking for a booklet called Bird Facts by Dave Currie, who is a poet from Ottawa. It is a limited edition of 80 copies published by Apt. 9 Press in 2014. He has published other booklets with Apt. 9, Shrieking Violet, In/Words, and AG Books. He is currently working on a novel, and a poetry book.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

Tuesday poem #610 : Mari-Lou Rowley : Some Sentences

 

 

Today is a behemoth gargling with lye
diazepam droll and forceps.

Who knows weather vain and particulate
midges and smoke, wind and seeds.

Movement is futile stunned unconscious
Bombus insecta against the picture window.

Neuropathy and tinnitus or fridge noise
or gales across the parched plains.

Man tracking the grizzly that mauled him
Ursus cousin versus stupid human.

Today inside looking out on the couch or
chesterfield depending on whether here or there.

 

 

 

 

 

Eco-science poet and interdisciplinary adventurer Mari-Lou Rowley has encountered a timber wolf, come between a black bear and her cub, interviewed an Italian astronaut, found over 66 four-leaf clovers, and published ten collections of poetry. Her most recent books are Catastrophe Theories (Anvil Press 2022), Unus Mundus (Anvil Press 2013) and Transforium (JackPine Press 2012) in collaboration with visual artist Tammy Lu. Her work has appeared internationally in literary, arts and science-related journals including the Journal of Humanistic Mathematics (US) and Aesthetica Magazine’s (UK) Creative Works Competition.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan