is a funny place.
Fly to Vancouver to Beijing reading
En Route about the rise of cerealism—
breakfast clubs after dark. Bowls of pumpkin
porridge with lobster and truffles, steel-
cut oats topped with chocolate pudding.
Opposite page—Wayne
Gretzky sells watches. Read
About elitist private members’
clubs in Hong Kong—similar to people’s homes,
not my home.
Another page—go
to Camont to make sausage
from pig shoulder in the eighteenth-century
farmhouse. The instructor an American
who came to moor her barge.
Along the Cabot Trail in Nova Scotia,
a golf course. What a shrine to the old
country. Expect a fickle wind.
And now in Beijing, step over
the thin man missing limbs, sitting
in the street.
* * *
Hello everyone. I've been traveling through China and haven't had regular access to the Internet. I'm back on May 15 and will be posting more then. Until then, here's a poem.
Best,
Kelly
1 comment:
Hi Kelly,
Hope you're enjoying your travels.
I appreciate all the juxtapositions in this poem. The breakfast clubs and watches and private clubs and sausage and the man in the street. I really liked "Expect a fickle wind".
As your images say so much, I don't know that the title and opening line is needed. I think you could title the poem something like Reading En Route and open with the flight. I feel like the second stanza could be pushed harder. Perhaps it's the last aside, or that the other stanzas describe just one story or travel adventure that awaits the reader.
I like what you've captured here. I think a lot of us can relate.
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