Curated by Canadian writer, editor and publisher rob mclennan, the “spotlight” series appears the first Monday of every month.
My manuscript-in-progress Same House New Sky constructs a day-by-day narrative in the wake of divorce and family dissolution. The speaker uses a documentary method that combines ekphrasis, journalism, and the lyric form to record domestic change as the family navigates their newly separated lives. The manuscript is indebted to the poems of Sharon Olds, especially her book Stag’s Leap, and the serial photographs of Christa Carr, from which I took my title.
warm this conversation June 12, 2014
I’m not going to spout some sentimental garbage like I miss you but where is the full beam of your face, the morning safety of our
bed all sweet smoke & Dior perspiration. here is the equation for dirty years: one house over sky equals soap to clean
our skin of gold. god knows we arrived with a sheen however brief where nothing could still the habitual afterglow.
what happened. warm with conversation gone straight, we were filthy for each other. lousy with limbs. over our heads & good.
plain view June 16, 2014
the only fact you know is things are going to get a whole lot worse before they get better. Nebraska funnel well-constructed dark
debarks whole frame houses, overturns trees complete violent cyclic supercell. extreme cars & other large objects. missile trains
strike small five & sixteen & others passing east. what is it. it is all there is. some day to die & the remained dissolve, being
quite a little of what is, but more a fragment. metal separates like chaff, bodies tear free the bed, all language tired & sleepless.
Little Sitkin Island June 24, 2014
danger, danger, high water, when we walk, where we live. sudden summer hug is tidal & alive wounded fissure. Aleutian geological dance —
come over oblique-slip, don’t forget yourself on the way. deep-water tectonic shake north from nearly everywhere. plate analytic panic — minutes until cold thunder.
one-off wave noisy with old clothes. lost rhythm rolled expectant toward a ghost. with you, I could go the whole weekend without speaking & be happy.
Geoffrey Nilson is a writer, editor and multimedia artist living in New Westminster on the unceded territory of the Qayqayt First Nation. His poems and essays have appeared in Poetry is Dead, The Capilano Review, Lemon Hound, CV2, and other journals. He is the author of four chapbooks and the most recent, In my ear continuously like a stream, was published with above/ground press in 2017.