Oceans in Space!

It was announced today that scientists have confirmed the existence of a frozen ocean on Saturn’s sixth largest moon, Enceladus – which has been considered by same the most likely place in our Solar System for life to exist beyond Earth. (Take that as you will.)

Credit: Image courtesy of NASA/JPL-Caltech and Space Science Institute

I decided to use this news as a prompt and wound up with the villanelle below, which I’m quite happy with. It’s my third in thirty poems to write this month, which I intend to post daily over at hobo.poetics.

Aqueous Solution

Don't fear our water table being broken
We've an imaginary solution
On Enceladus there is an ocean

A truly pataphysical omen
This dawning new resource revolution
Don't fear our water table being broken

As we continue to master motion
We will manufacture absolution
On Enceladus there is an ocean

It doesn't matter that it's frozen
Makes for easier redistribution 
Don't fear our water table being broken

Lies continually being spoken
Regarding the impact of pollution
On Enceladus there is an ocean

Humanity certain it's been chosen
To usurp control of evolution
Don't fear our water table being broken
On Enceladus there is an ocean

 

 

 

 

 

The Captain of The Paradise

the bridge goes up
the bridge goes down
everything goes on
just like it always has

the bridge goes up
the bridge goes down
it’s been a bad few years
for bridges in this city

the bridge goes up
the bridge goes down
it’s done this now
for eighty-nine years

in the shadow of this bridge
sat a man for a time
holding the surname of the voice

he’d been a painter
a construction worker
and a California love-in-er
but in the shadow of this bridge
he was the mayor of a block
the Pirate of Pandora
the Captain of the Paradise

in a world that’s learned
to overlook one another
he took the time
to make us notice
the beauty we are
surrounded by

hurling barely decipherable compliments
at everyone walking through Pandora’s Box
breaking anybody’s attempts not to notice
the philosopher pirate smiling beneath his tree

the bridge goes up
the bridge goes down
the wind,
it has taken my smile

the bridge goes up
the bridge goes down
is it a good day
or a bad day today, Louie

the bridge goes up
the bridge goes down
this is the capital
of the paradise!

what was it like
to be a noble on the streets
what was it like
to live so far away from the woman you married
what was it like
to be simultaneously adored, ignored and despised
what was it like
those sober moments of moonlit intoxication

through your blue eyes smiling
you etched yourself into so many hearts
with but a snapshot of your story
the one you wanted to tell
the one you told in everything

and it wasn’t always easy
never is

we all have demons we can’t outrun
we all have memories we’d like to forget
of others and of ourselves
we all get dirt in our crinkles

but you’d always wash up well after-the-fact
no matter how long it took
and come back fresh
more alive than most of the people
who go through great pains to look clean

you owned your dirt
your demons
your skin

you owned you
more than anybody else ever could
you owned your smile
bright, mischievous and knowing
and leased as many other smiles as possible
from all around you on any given day

the bridge goes up
the bridge goes down
everything goes on
just as it always has

the bridge goes up
the bridge goes down
sooner or later
it’ll come to an end

the bridge goes up
the bridge goes down
the wind,
it has taken my smile

it has
for real

and i hope it will carry it to me
wherever i go in the world

Jean Luc Lavoie
Louie, my friend
Oh captain, my captain

Rest In Paradise

Jean Luc (Louie) Lavoie  ::  December 14, 1951 – August 29, 2013

Laurus nobilis

This past weekend marked the first official year of my term as Poet Laureate of the Brandon Folk, Music & Art Festival in Brandon, MB.  In addition to performing and emceeing with Johnny MacRae as 2 Dope Boys in a Cadillac, and taking part in various daytime workshop stages, it was my duty to write and read an opening poem for the festival.  This is that poem.

photo: j. aaron mercer, anthropocalarchivist

it’s all the comings + goings
it’s joyful reunions + reluctant goodbyes
there is something in coming together

these are the places we come
to build the lives we want
an interactivity superseding the cities
or small towns we call home

this is a happening
we happen to be having together

it’s the soundwaves soaring thru the night
it’s the hardpacked earth that held the dancefloor
there is something in making music together

songs carried forth like traditions
wanting to be held by you
caressed as you would a lover
in the act of letting go

this can go both ways

it’s a beautiful environment for trying new things
it’s the binding we’re building that will test time itself
there is something in growing together

for many, this is an anniversary
perhaps this is the only time you’ll see that someone
perhaps this is the only time you feel so free
or perhaps this year will be the beginning of something new
we never really know what we’re going to get
nor entirely what we’re going to give
when we come together like this
when we come together for this
when this supersedes we
because this is what is
in the moment

in 2007 i first came here
wide-eyed with wonder
at the newness of it all
and also what had been established
the type of place
where someone not from here
can feel at home

and i’ve grown to know some of you
beyond the bonds of the Keystone grounds
in the six years since
many of you i’m still meeting
for the first time

hi.
my name is shayne
i live in Victoria
when i’m not on the road
i have ‘hug life’ tattooed across my belly
and i’m looking forward
to our experience together
even if we don’t actually meet

this wouldn’t be the same without you

in Dionysian times
people gathered together
just like we have now
inducing trance thru the magic
of wine, music and dance
they removed inhibitions
and social constraints
returning to a neutral state

Dionysus was a god of resurrection
these gatherings were a time for rebirth

so when the scent of the honey wagon’s midfestival withdrawal
permeates the air all around you
remember:  we’re in this together

and when the music all around you crescendos
into a reality beyond the amplification of speakers
remember:  we build this together

then, should you find yourself in the ughs of autumn
or the doldrums of winter
remember:  we had this together

             and will again

it is the excitement of new sights and sounds
birthing themselves into your consciousness
it is the newfound knowledge of shared wisdom
there is something in discovering together

so let’s let everything else fall to the wayside
for now
and build ourselves a beautiful experience
together.

NaPoWriMo #9

throwing a hip hop
trampoline party so we
can “bounce to this shit!”

NaPoWriMo #8

[an ottava rima.]

maybe it was the thirteenth pint of beer
perhaps it was the smoke that filled the air
we try and meet up once or twice a year
with our words gathered up and brought to share
we are called forth to stages with great cheer
to give our words unto a crowd with flare
like some kind of poetic Rites of Spring
when the poets gather, it’s quite a thing

NaPoWriMo #7

the poets are coming!
the poets are coming!
they’re pouring in
thru every port…

the poets are coming!
the poets are coming!
you can’t even walk down the street
without bumping into one…

the poets are coming!
the poets are coming!
they’ve got some things to say…

the poets are coming!
the poets are coming!
drunk on each other,
and high on words…

the poets are coming!
the poets are coming!
listening for visions
in the cosmic vibrations…

the poets are coming!
the poets are coming!

the poets are here.

NaPoWriMo #6

i’ve got 40 years Chuck
until i reach
the physical space
of your last words

i may be too sober
for your liking
as i spend my sailing
with you
travelling in the name
of what some
would call
poetry

i think you might’ve
enjoyed the litter
of beercans
stashed throughout
the smoking section

they make us
smoke
in the wind
these days

the snowboarder
with the hot pink thong
smiles at everybody
while commenting
on the chill
and this little alcove
still stinks of the
chemical vanilla
sprayed wantonly
by the woman
in the too-high
for her
heels

i’ll have a beer for you
once i get
where i’m going

and pretend
that these words
matter

NaPoWriMo #5

[a cinquain.]

my mom
gives everything
and asks none in return
content in knowing she is good
thank you

NaPoWriMo #4

tickingclock tickingclock
driving me crazy
driving me crazy

tickingclock tickingclock
driving me crazy
driving me wild
driving me insane
driving an icepick
into my brain
causing so much pain
it’s a pain in the ass

tickingclock tickingclock
driving me crazy
driving me crazy

tickingclock tickingclock
i’m constantly reminded of time

it’s all around us
but really dumbfounds us
and if we’d just let us be
it would probably astound us
by breaking the shackles
we’ve been building

tickingclock tickingclock
driving me crazy
driving me crazy

tickingclock tickingclock
i’m constantly reminded of time
i’m constantly reminded
that there’s a limit on our time
it’s a limited time offer
then we’ll self-destruct
when the time limit
has been reached

and who can keep track of time time?
who can keep track of the time?

the time keepers can!
the time keepers keep the time
they keep the time to themselves
they don’t give us the time
they don’t even give us the time of day

so we’ve got to take time
we’ve gotta take the time
we’ve gotta take time for ourseleves
if we don’t take the time for ourselves
who will?

it helps us gift each other
the time that we can
otherwise time’s just a
tickingclock tickingclock
driving me crazy
driving me crazy

tickingclock tickingclock
i’m constantly reminded of time

tickingclock tickingclock
driving me crazy
driving me crazy

tickingclock tickingclock
i don’t wanna go over time

tickingclock tickingclock
driving me crazy
driving me crazy

tickingclock tickingclock
tickingclock tickingclock
eventually
we’ll run
out of

NaPoWriMo #3

satisfy true terror

exhausted afterward,
give yourself to calm

repeat

come clean with me
let’s not linger
in these muddy skins
any longer

satisfy true terror
give yourselves unto one another
exhausted afterward,
give yourself unto yourself

repeat