Geomantic riposte: 'This Is Not Eden'
Tracy Hamon lives in Regina, Saskatchewan and is the author of two poetry collections, including This Is Not Eden, a finalist for two Saskatchewan Book Awards, and Interruptions in Glass, shortlisted for two SBA book awards in 2010. Most recently she was longlisted for the CBC Poetry Award. However, this says very little about Hamon being a driving force behind many arts events in Regina and also in everyone’s favourite province, including her kickstarting the exceptional Vertigo Reading Series (now produced and hosted by Tara Dawn Solheim) and through her many efforts for the Saskatchewan Writers’ Guild. Happily, I was treated to a thrilling preview of Hamon’s next title with Thistledown Press, Red Curls, an exphrastic exploration of the historical figures of Austrian expressionist painter Egon Schiele and his mistress Valerie Neuzil. Crafting lyrical form along with prose poems, Hamon brings vivid life to three dramatic monologues featuring Schiele, Neuzil and a poetic voice that translates ethical and aesthetic concerns into the present.
This Is Not Eden by Tracy Hamon (Thistledown Press, 2005, Page 24)
Wanting is time, the urge to clock desire,
tiny electric shocks; heartbeat as spatial.
Those who can, stay. But when you least expect it
those who have nothing left to lose pull away.
Prayer is lost art. Forgotten solicitude.
Simple need; centre yourself to the moment.
A black feather captivates your thoughts. Flight turns
you inside out and sets your solitude free.
You learn space; form existing as separate.
Ellipses fit to their own. They hold nothing.
Geomantic Riposte: Aphelion
That report that retort that ache from aphelion
Wong Kar Wai pictures in spaces lovers leave behind
moving through time assassins and their clean-up crew
trailing chain reactions of tiniest incidents no good meeting
the right person too soon or too late If I'd lived in another time
or place my story might have had a very different ending in
a heartbeat you are one-minute friends there is nothing to do
but write lost loves into tacky robots however feelings can
creep up on you unawares over endless waiting 'Casta Diva'
cranked up to drown out angsty back and forth anguish in
every recreated corner on fire because for Buddhist gods a
tear can take centuries to fall alluring words [like the robots]
will serve you devotedly but you must not fall in love with them