I looked around and I saw the city was changing. For better or worse. The things I was seeing then wouldn't be there forever. Might not even be there tomorrow by the pace we had started and kept up. There was a loneliness in witnessing that change. Tethering attention to impermanence and documenting it. Chasing shadows in the sunshine.
An old painting of a man on a wagon. There's some buildings and a dusty old dirt road. It's something that was. Something captured. Some essence contained. A fragment of untouched wood beneath the flame of a raging fire. Defiant in it's persistent refusal of the ashes calls to action.
A look of recognition from a colour splotch. A familiar friend in a beam of white light. People taking form in scratching squiggle lines from pen. Cartoon ice bergs with cool blue water companions.
Scribbled notebook on a bench.
Children's walrus' fragmented fabrics progress policing. One mustn't forget the gift shop. Keith Harring bathrobe $148, Banksy coaster set $59. Basquiat phone case. Recycled eco friendly no preservatives vegan templates.
Exit left for bubble tea, cheap haircuts, and fruit crates.
Internal signs are flashing red, “Sky Dragon”
The design is not the dressing.
In Passing
write a poem for bliss
write a poem for peace
fill it with the gifts
shiny wrappings over each
in the middle of the box
is a flower you can
keep
water it with tears
feed it light from underneath
the taste of victory is laughter
sharing something sweet
then
when the crying comes
failures pits
can bring a peach
with a flavour so distinct it’s something
you could only eat
little at a time
tell a story with your teeth
biting down
and biting through
to get the juice
you need to squeeze
tension
apprehension
bring attention to release
when the thoughts are boiling over
pop the bubble
feel relief
then write a poem for memory
write a poem for grief