Chatham-Kent 6. Essence Boreal

Essence Boreal

On the occasion of artist Lisa Marshall’s exhibit, “Boreal” (October 29, 2015)

This North48° is rich and fuzzy,

like a slice of well-aged gorgonzola

viens of blue and

wedges of soft leek

running through the solid

green frames of forest.

Panagapka is no Erie

no dirty Thames river for

Pakeshkag.

No these small pockets

are holy wells,

deep mosses tucked

within the arms of

the Anishnaabe eternal.

Spiky green leaves atop

a soft artichoke

centre,

reaching

for you to grab hold,

aborbing you in.

Here, you were born.

Here, you are.

SOQP

1.

Je cherche

Access.

a hierarchal foundation of

laws

policies

procedure –

the latter spawn

out of the former.

Who’s your fire call?

…your speed dial?

Professionals’

Acts

weave a fabric of

safe, positive spaces of learning,

threading, sewing,

knitting 52:2 past to Human

future

practice.

2.

In this lunch box of foods

we take out:

counsel and counseling;

icy-cold compliance (only if people aren’t pliable);

control to

carve out ‘best practice’

from Canada’s curriculum.

Crates of consistent

conditions.

Jars of policy sealed

with air-tight procedures

protecting pedagogy 2020.

No expulsion or suspension

without precedence.

(This poses problems

for pupils on the

progressive punishment continuum.)

A fiduciary Spring picnic with

BestInterests Board and BestInterests Students.

3.

You are cordially invited to

celebrate

the marriage

of

Sustantive Duty

&

Procedural Duty

in

SystemConsistency, ON

A reception will be held at

Negotiation Hall at the last minute.

Please RRSP #MitigatingFactors

Chatham-Kent 5. The Blue Planet

The Blue Planet

I was born of blue,

of the waters of Erie fair

in the southern-most

bottom of this warm

opening of a new nation.

Born of the waters of

Matrilineage:

Mother born of the fast-

flowing St. Clair,

taking in ships and families

with her  - once old

then fresh;

slow and gentle pools

bay at its end signaling

the place to birth

and bequeath.

Grandmother born of the

Atlantic, a deep wide

sequestered expanse with

room to keep memories

afloat, or

let them sink to

the dark sands of Poseidan’s

private waters.

Where a commitment

must be steadfast

for there is

no return fare, in

this country of blue.

I was born of blue,

the colour that calms

my heart,  waves

that lull my thoughts, lovers

that wash me

on this ‘Blue Planet’.

ETs of red or green

or brown know us not-

just as Blue.

Chatham-Kent 4. The night the music ended

The night the music ended

Leonard says he’s

always loved

to dance

Disco night at the

Gallery or

when he was 26 and met

Sharon.

She thought he was

boring, arrogant

even full of  it

but he showed her -

him

dancing, at first

the swing,

then twisting, moving

to the sound as his brush

with a life all its own.

Not like today.

Then there were

regular dances

couples taking a drag

and making out:

lips locked in dark

corners. Feeling

movement, sensations

soft, liquid.

Today art cost the

corner artist 50%

60% in Toronto.

And there are no dances

cigarettes dark anywhere;

ostracized to the light.

Now he

stands still

quiet.

Reproach ending

the dance.

Chatham-Kent 3. Built Lines

On the occasion of artist Lorie Thibault’s exhibit, “I Walk the Lines” (September 24, 2015):

Built lines anchor

structures of brick, granite,

wood slats

to their ground.

dependent axes of studio windows and

blinds,

lost lighthouse shingles and

Parisien balcons bleeding

smoky residue onto the

masts of tall Seine ships

running down, down -

one with gravity

to the floor of our world.

Natural lines curve up,

 just enough

for mathematicians to puzzle

the Poinsot of ragwood leaves, the

Klein quartics of peonies,

Euler spiral snails and

rhododendron catenaries -

all growing contrary to

the epicycloid center of

  construction.

“If a tree falls in a bog”;

if “Number 7” windows

fall into disarray of their

tidy y-axes; what

“distraught iron” wouldn’t

leave its prim ‘inside’

lines for the

softening,

curving, widening

release of Gaia?

In the end, all

lines flowing to

the independent

x-chromo our

“Neighbour”

right beside us.