Colin Fulton: Four Poems

from Life Experience Coolant. BookThug, 2013.

R EM P L I S S A G E

How dare they call it emptiness, constitutional emptiness, whilst enjoying the finest qualia of life in the world, one envied not just by millions but billions of people who would dearly love to share in such an emptiness, that emptiness which French Canadians and Canadians and New Canadians and Canadians before Canada worked together and sacrificed together to build. Where do we stand if their backs are exposed to those of us looking forward, if they make to press on without moving from their place, the recording, into a project fraught with uncertainty and ill-defined, a project aimed at division and not at the open-mindedness which every possible heart has now within it and strives to preserve for itself as well as for its o!spring, not to mention those destined to govern the o!spring. Go ahead, examine the vessel. Speak of a wholly inarticulate situation. Dab its lips, I dare you. But I bid you hold: the word “baveux” must never again be used within these halls. Friends, let us leave this preface as it stands. It is over. Please do not fill it up again.

 

S UP P LY

The disgraceful irony is that you honour it and you honor it. Certainly the irony is not lost on me, it’s lost in me, it is supreme. It is strange, how bold it is. We cling to it, this irony of ironies Madam Speaker, this secret immigration board aware of the novel and always able to find it, them, ironic. Seven trillion dollars in economic havoc. Or bread puddin’. Inherent,  ultimate,  pristine, among  other  things resplendent  – I’m spent. I love how the irony drips I can’t tell you how palpable this critical feeding opportunity is. Just a touch of bitter, cool, steeping, heightened, rookie, savoury irony… This week is not national suicide prevention week. Neither is the next. But there are people out there working hard to stop it from escaping them, the irony that is. I remember how things used to float. I find it wonderful I can even remember. I too wish I could split my time. I’d try to do lots of things. Has the member not taken the time to read the heartbreaking letters? What has increased?

 

THE C UT S

The cuts came just a day after the inflammatory comment that revealed the Culture of Intimation rotting below the Culture of Intimidation. Two days later the whip turned inside out like a pretzel and ooos of appointments were made without scrutiny, a black plum in each mouth. Back then, for those both and both for those on the inside and on the out, “Well, no one told me!” signified an intention to scrutinize long extant foundations. As did “Who wore it better?”  and “Whoa,  three months?  I need some rest but after that I’ll get outta dodge.” !e accused then proceeded  to  steal  the  vehicle  containing  extremely  valuable test equipment, and by the time I caught up to him half the gear was gone and half of him was gone and the test was complete. Everything had been vetted top to bottom. Because the new variety was able to ripen indefinitely, thinning continued. Surrender led to joy, joy to surrender. Arriving at the steps of the international tourist pavilion, the accused couldn’t help but cheer up. He grew hopeful and noticed this new feeling and couldn’t help but hope it would keep growing. After a while he caught up with himself. It was then that he began to leak.

 

ALWAYS KNEW

Always knew what the bridge would be made of. Always knew what the bread was made for. Always knew that the village of Elora had a world- class choral choir. Always knew that if we consider a combination of a producer who would farm 1,ooo or %,ooo acres, maybe 1o,ooo acres, and grow thousands of tonnes, that this person would have one vote and the guy who only had 1oo acres and produced maybe a couple of tonnes, or a small quantity, had the exact same portion of the vote. And this is why as I sat alone in the House of Commons many times she reached out to me. People like her are very special people. I will tell you about the case of Taramatie Seeratan Kamsubhag, a woman from Trinidad. She will be deported in the next few days, but her husband, who assaulted her and made her sterile, will continue to dwell among us, because he remarried a reader. I did read the lips of the di&cult animals during our debate. I as well heard from those lips the words “those animals.” I have been in this House for 11 years but I have never heard anyone refer to anything as those animals. They are still anything. They are still stu!. They are not animals. Animals do not stay still and I didn’t move my lips. I was born in Trinidad because I’m a complex material being – at any time in my own life and in my life cycle I may need to utilize pragmatically the di!erent aspects of my character and the things it has access to. It is indeed the unique ability of readers to refer to themselves according to the colour of their orientation, their sexual colour and their colour’s flavour, in whatever way they choose. Given my Greek background I tend to move into the various to erase the parallels, but maybe what happened was a lot like what happened   when readers here decided to move to countries we have agreements with, to buy up summer homes in Greece or Trinidad or France or wherever they can read in peace and sunlight. If I am o! topic, please let me know. I believe in co-operation. The message I came to deliver from my constituents is “everybody must find themselves in this unfortunate economic landscape in which all of us find ourselves composing some message or another.” Sadness only comes when there is demonstration and when there is loss of life, which is the ultimate demonstration. Back of the avoidance, evasion, cohort, soon. As a child Tamaratie would find great joy swimming toward the unguarded  platforms, everything glinting concernfully, hooting.  We own those platforms. And that’s why I can’t stand up.  I just keep having the most amazing weekends.

____

COLIN FULTON currently resides in Montreal, where he’s pursuing a Master’s degree in English at Concordia. Prior to that, he lived in British Columbia for seven years, studying poetics, political ecology and philosophy at the University of Victoria, and working each cherry and apple harvest in the Okanagan Valley. Colin is ‘from’ Nova Scotia. Life Experience Coolant is his first book.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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