why is history like a fruitcake? Aaron Tucker I refantasize about otherme as you shower separately + I tip + slosh through luggage: I am young + I study hard in university huddled over fat red pencil + small desk ill-fitting pants + homemade haircut this long lab coat vision/version gasps at test tube smokepuff delights alchemizes human liver cells from orange peels a miniature deer from leaf + root scraps $translates= 'from: transportation’; then (grad school, I astoundingly convert TVs into refrigerators + lawnmowers into airplanes grow my hair long, learn piano, small keyed resistance each a small echo repeat) then (I get a well paying job with health benefits invest in a RRSP, handshake with bank manager sesame seed a small grain in his palm grinds mine) then (I create a time machine ivory + rock crystal some radioactive center whirls hypnotic against a re-upholstered lawn chair a faint mercury smell, nickelbones I set my dial for a newsstand in 1961 the year both my mother + father were born grip a mint copy of Amazing Fantasy 15 corners astoundingly sharp + vivid a man lunges from a costume’s arms) I imagine the only truly perfect copy


Aaron Tucker’s poetic works and reviews have been published across Canada. His chapbook, apartments, was shortlisted for the 2010 bpNichol Chapbook award. In addition, his collection of essays Interfacing with the Internet in Popular Cinema was published by Palgrave-Macmillan in July, 2014. Currently, he is a professor in the English department at Ryerson University where he is currently teaching essay writing and digital literacy to first year students. He is working on learning chess in between watching his beloved Raptors lose games. More at aarontucker.ca