|
Volume 27, Number 1 (2003) reprinted by permission Legal Studies Forum POETRY by GARY BOTTING [303] |
|
not as a woman at a hearing but as an orca diving her focus on glistening possibilities, justice hiding among the sea lettuce and the reeds – and the shore seems not so very far away
Think of the hearing
not as a hearing but as a sounding a plumbing of the depths not of dark oceans but of pristine coves and bays where treasures lie – and the shore seems not so very far away
Think of the sounding
not as a sounding but a listening deep beneath the waters voices distant yet distinct mind clear, wits keen lips pursed and parted – and the shore seems not so very far away
Think of the listening
not as a listening but as a mirror windowing the dark days when the rain elbowed out the sun years of pretending to bask in other peoples’ glory – and the shore seems not so very far away
Think of the mirror
not as a mirror but as a claim made on your heart, your mind, your soul and let them understand that your small claim is but a pond by comparison to the ocean of grief they have caused you – and the shore seems not so very far away
|
|
in Autumn in New York when Richard and Winona realize it is the beginning of the end? In the background rising to the distant clouded skyline two towers once so familiar peek at their despair. This time as I watch the rerun the moment strikes me as a blast of frost from a discontented winter of lost dreams. Who can but weep for the swept horizon? [305] |
|
marveling at the miracle of your manner at your selfless, sensitive insistence on simple love conceived as Either/Or. You were the beacon-bearer, the lady with the lamp lighting divergent pathways leading not to but through our paradise (how difficult it must have been to walk alone). At every crossroads I agonized anew: shall I follow the mountainous country road challenging, scenic and rewarding, or shall I continue to hum along my highway? I saw the pain on the faces of others who endured the ascent so intent on reaching their destination that they failed to focus on Nirvana. How I long to embrace you, not out of passion but with compassion knowing my mindless highway-driving has led me to reject the gift of thy selfless love! [306] |
|
to shining C to shining see you see? the sea sees you do you see me? the UC has no seers some say some say it is no “C” at all (you see one sea you’ve seen ’em all) united we stand divided we fall a seersuckered seer with a secret to hear with an ear for a secret given up by the sea presses his eye or his ear to the shell and listens to portents of Caliban’s hell (some say that Caliban is a C.A. chartered and charted and carted away to stare at the stars or the seashore all day at the shining sign of the see? and the eh? that betoken the tokens he fingers all day) can Caliban count? why he counts not at all except on his fingers (some say he’s all thumbs) he sits on the seashore and silently hums while Ariel calculates Caliban’s count and whispers in seashells the total amount Caliban eats of the calabar bean who knows what dreams or visions he’s seen? who knows what dreams or what ordeals a poisonous calabar bean eater feels? [307] tied to the earth we know not how! torn between freedom and the ban on liberty liberty liberty man liberty ban liberty ban who can ban liberty? liberty can! in Flanders Fields a poppy blows (whose woods these are still nobody knows) the dead of dysutopias? the dread of red-neck phobias? all in the name of liberty! bomb the ban with silver shells ban the bomb with liberty bells with bells bong bombs with bombs bong bells and the shells shells shells shells shells boom on (and on and on and on and on) ban the bomb and banish the Cruise pan the poet and banish his muse some say he fibs some say he lies some say he lives some say he dies Caliban Caliban Dali in Maliban reading the riverrun ending beginagun again be Finegan superstone angel (Hagar the horrible all too Laurentian) just as they did in the days of Noah of the noh and the nada and the do not pass Goa Rachel’s awailing to her kids as yahweh waits for higher bids bids from the US or UK or France bids from the rising sun [308] bids from ideas of competitive men bids with a dollar sign bids with a yen bids from the widows and bids from the wives bids from the Calibans spending their lives accounting for ends that have no means accounting for meanings that have no ends accounting for all of this endingless mess the meaningless meanness the couldn’t care less Canabanadaman Canabanadaman who can kill Canada? Canada can! the Calibans don’t have a clue what to do but they do it they do it they do it again with phenomenal skill for such ciphers of men striving anew to renew the accounts to keep them afloat with minuscule amounts of “yearning” and “faith” and “the courage to be” or either/or dicta and theosophy of “I-Thou” Friday and “Thou-I” me Canada man Calibanada man nothingness does as nothingness can reach for the heavens reach out for a man reach out for the oceans and potions and die make an example of Caliban’s ghost (take for example Ariel’s host – some say intelligence flows through his hair some say it never takes residence there) [309] dreams of a force far beyond his command dreams of a planet polluted and bare nightmarish dreams of a blinding light that nights up the heavens and lights up the night vanquishing earth with a grinding blight (some say that Caliban can’t see at all Caliban’s own predictable fall) nada nada nada you see? sea to shining c U C? a secret to hear given up by the sea the seashell has sputtered in Caliban’s ear he looks in his conch and finds Ariel near like a sylph in Belinda’s unlockable hair (and Ariel laughing abandons him there) Caliban’s groan passes down to the sky (for Caliban’s answers are often awry) aha! he has doubts! at the end of his tether! (unreason’s unseasonal lesions of “whether”) he screams at the seas he dots all his tees he crosses his i’s (some say this is wise) for Ariel’s gone and Caliban’s left blaming poor Prospero for the grand theft yet nobody prospered and none takes the blame for passing out passion and hatred and pain [310] a new force stirs demurs with a nod and goes back to sleep (there will be time) waiting to rise as a phoenix bird dies to pass beyond nada to meaning again passing through nada passing through pain to an ecstasy born of the seashore again to an ecstasy born of the see? [311] |
|
Gary Botting (1943- ), began his writing career
as a journalist with South China Morning Post in Hong Kong in 1961, and
joined the editorial department of the Peterborough Examiner under the
tutelage of its then publisher, Robertson Davies. After contributing to
and editing various literary journals, he published his first collection
of poetry in 1969.
Botting attended graduate school in Newfoundland (M.A. in English Language and Literature) and Alberta (Ph.D. in English and M.F.A. in playwriting) and then taught English and creative writing at Red Deer College in Alberta for 14 years, publishing or producing some 20 books and 30 plays, many of which won literary prizes. After attending law school in Calgary (1987-90), he was called to the British Columbia bar in 1991 and in his legal practice focused on criminal law and appellate practice. Botting returned to graduate school at the University of British Columbia Faculty of Law in 1998 and the following year, having been awarded an LL.M., became a visiting scholar at the University of Washington School of Law in Seattle. Now living in Deep Bay, Vancouver Island, Botting continues to write plays, novels, poetry and engage in scholarly writing as he completes a dissertation on extradition law for his second doctorate. |