i’ve seen no animate
creature but my cat
three eagles, and countless ravens
in six days.
i’ve seen no sun in twenty-two.
i have been lazy beyond all reason,
consuming tissues at obscene rates,
and transforming them into grapefruit.
my walk to the supermailbox
at the end of my country lane
is every night a pilgrammage,
from which i return
bereft,
like a jew
who converted for a moment
only to find himself
abandoned by jehovah,
with jesus tasting like junkfood.
i nourish myself by chopping wood.
i try to count the omens, but there are too many.
the blasted black-winged tricksters circle overhead,
reminding me that god is a scavenger.
i use watercolours to paint
my sister a message:
send vodka,
i’m seeing this through.
Chris Gilpin is a writer and performer, based in Vancouver, BC. His work has appeared in The Vancouver Review, Forget Magazine, and others. Look for him at a Fringe festival, or poetry slam near you. You can find out more at http://www.chrisgilpin.com/.
“Drawing A Circle With A Compass” image is from “A Textbook On Ornamental Design” (1901)