The Wonder Tree Arcs of carmine follow the hills the forest won’t be subdued no gaunt thought of November as the painter faces the washstand soapy water splashed on his whiskers hands quivering like wings of a bird that has flown too far he turns to the sputtering stove doesn’t know when grace became a tired thing he closes his eyes buttons his shirt and still the red flag waving come to the dark tree Georgian Bay These will become the famous pines the before and also the after Precambrian scraped birches gripped to the stony point dead leaves mute from a hundred years of hanging on Newfoundland Sketch Follow the glassy green stroke your heart’s joyful disorder Quidi Vidi from Portuguese the beautiful place too small for a port sheltered between the endured and the easy the old shore heaves like sudden May light on a white shed roof A Breezy Day Low clouds streak in like torpedoes the blown leery trees weathering the edge of ten thousand days storm light and bluster the world made of paper Fire Ranger Fabriqué à la main (the frame) taking his time with a story he’s probing the vale for a distant flag of burning air born in rough country it’s kind of work he let into himself a tower filled with voices of birds the landscape steep escarpé twenty years tapping his pipe as he slowly becomes the watching itself ** This poem was written after Fire Ranger, by Edwin Holgate (Canada) 1926. An image could not be found. The pictured artwork is in the same style by the artist. Sketch and Finished Work, Isles of Spruce Some say not a living thing stirs but you know better “Isles of Spruce” you could love this wavering place erased then redrawn don’t you miss the colour you couldn’t put down its freedom the way you miss a child’s green eyes her questions and what the world seemed to be worth when she asked them Kitwancool Totems As far as this old cart will take me Kitwancool totems see what the carver has done as the world rises up or lies where it falls if not for beauty everything falls I am Emily, Mister Woo* the sky I should say is a turquoise stone *Mr. Woo: Emily Carr’s famous Javanese macaque monkey and companion on her painting expeditions. The Pointers The royal blue hill of the mountain hauled up from September the hired barge two sorrels matched in stillness twenty-one men three red pointers as the luxuriant hour recedes the gold epaulettes so sure of their money as if God wanted someone to see *pointer: wooden oared boats pointed at both ends, once used on the Ottawa and other rivers. Rainbow, Lake O’Hara In the reaches of Yoho a rainbow’s arc straddles the haste of the river coming so far to be emptied Spilt over rock our blessedness cleft by the rush of the world by the root of a tree Bruce Rice This poem was long-listed in the CBC Poetry Competition, 2022. Bruce Rice is a previous Saskatchewan Poet Laureate. His most recent collection is The Vivian Poems (Radiant Press), on the life and work of street photographer, Vivian Maier. Ranging from family stories, the vanishing prairie and the North, to the Statue of Liberty, art is a presence in most of his work. Bruce lives in Regina on Treaty 4 territory and the homeland of the Métis, where he spends the summer conversing with coyotes and the trout he keeps in his brother’s dugout.
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September 2024
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