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