Telephone: 604 444-4889
Outside Vancouver: 1 888 445-4176
Fax: 604 444-4119
In addition to perceiving the poem as the “means of transmission” over time, Belford’s poetic lines welcome readership as a form of collaborative action and agency … and also as a form of ongoing social process that is sensitive to the life and demise of many of the decision trees that ultimately nourish our wavering notions of the future.
Other poems from Internodes also recently appeared in The Goose.
What seems to have happened
went something like this.
Every home has a name and
every home has a hunger.
There is a woman called Si.
She goes on raids with me.
From any place I can see
in the open parts of the country
water and trees are scarce.
I was called Ken Blackwater
because caddis are at the outlet.
I was so called because
I wore no ornaments
and came from the inlet.
I had fish and danced with Si.
To this day I am a man of the river.
Belongings affect me, and I answer
to the drone of family, that ragtime
relay in simple time. In one likeness
or another, fault-finding instructors
are the figures of fidelity. It’s hard
to tell one resemblance from another
when old hats break down. Attributes
with the given names of landscape
and lyric are branches that dwindle
to one-dimensional vectors, and are
not unlike the primacy of looking.
Even when annalists belittle unusual
poems, poetry has no proper language.