A poem I wrote recently, about the damages I've seen present in preparation for the 2010 Olympics.
The Trouble With Vancouver
The Ocean sycophantic
as two men drearily lay down
one woman lies awake in a pitched tent (city park)
wondering who will fix her
neither man shows up
And we promise We promise that
free trade and open borders
francophone gymnasts and whistler locals
anime trade ups of our backyard oppressions
We'll cure poverty
together
And as a raging attachment disorder sings
that lonely woman to sleep
lice wonder about the possibilities of
the outstretched world
from larval stages told be anything
reap the rewards of hard work
all across this fucking city
This is the colour of a trainwreck that's
been painted over
any colour they want it to be.
A seagull shrieks against
an updated industrial area.
My sister might be in these Olympics.
The Trouble With Vancouver
The Ocean sycophantic
as two men drearily lay down
one woman lies awake in a pitched tent (city park)
wondering who will fix her
neither man shows up
And we promise We promise that
free trade and open borders
francophone gymnasts and whistler locals
anime trade ups of our backyard oppressions
We'll cure poverty
together
And as a raging attachment disorder sings
that lonely woman to sleep
lice wonder about the possibilities of
the outstretched world
from larval stages told be anything
reap the rewards of hard work
all across this fucking city
This is the colour of a trainwreck that's
been painted over
any colour they want it to be.
A seagull shrieks against
an updated industrial area.
My sister might be in these Olympics.