Random Thoughts

I remember reading poetry

At sixteen,

In the Vincent Massey 

High School Library:

Raymond Souster,

Leonard Cohen,

Al Purdy,

Robert Service.

I was an odd boy,

Playing hockey

Beard to my fetish for words,

Pretty on a page,

Picked discretely,

E.E.Cummings wise;

Magee, High Flight.

I liked the words of warriors,

And lovers wrapped in rhyme,

Alliteration or just special,

By their place on the page..

I was young then.

Poetry was old and wise,

And friendly in a sometimes cold world,

Confused by hormones and war 

Vague futures and heaving breasts.

I loved poetry,

Studying theatre,

Reciting Shakespeare,

Surprised on reflection ,

At why in retrospect,

These bits of doggerel and sonnet

Touched me, called me, caressed me.

Later biblical verses , ancient psalms 

And Isaiah would as well.

I remember 

Writing my own bits of rhyme
Between classes,

On busses, in cafes;

The notebook , and pen
Always along

As friends,

Like poetry and poets.

I heard Al Purdy on the CBC today.

I remembered high school and college,

And her face and fur hat
And the snowflakes in the glow of the lantern,

Before we lay naked on the squeaky bed,
Oh,   the    squeaky     bed.