Triptyque Page #3

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Your father's voice, Marie,

is in your voice.

The rebel isn't content.

He's happy.

Happy as a snow storm.

Happy as a general strike.

Happy as a spot of jam.

Happy as a pirouette.

Happy as a sneeze.

Happy!

But not content.

The sky was very... low.

So low that birds couldn't fly.

They hit their heads on the ceiling,

so they had to walk on all fours.

"Two ashtrays mounted

on moose hooves for sale,

"a Ski-Doo suit, size 13X,

"drinking cups for camping,

and a John Deere flat-brimmed cap."

I brought your book back.

Thanks.

What's going on?

It's our poetry night.

Feel free to join us.

Come on in.

Thank you, Jos.

It's a brand new text, so...

it might be a little obscure.

I haven't taken a step back yet.

"In the heart of the night,

"A thousand nightmares

"A thousand rebellions

"A thousand close-range explosions

"But I'm still alive

"At the end of my rope

"Eyes open

"Eyes closed

"Long and pasty tongue

"Flayed tongue of my hallucinated drift

"Man in black

"Spitting out his trance's red fire

"'Hell is there, up high

"You'll all die there, '

he cries and warns

"Dialects

"And cries the end of the world

"Child in red

"Laughs

"Plays day and night

all around her broken heart

"Doesn't sing

"Doesn't cry

"Throws the stone in Heaven

"And I catch it

"And I wake

But I'm still alive"

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