East Van Places represented in poetry
So on to my second self published book ("A Cure for Mirrors") from my pre transition era. This book also had a nice launch, as did Like Bukowski in Drag, which i launched once at the Bar called Bukowski's, but is now The Charlatan. Bukowski's was a great for a bar venue in the late nineties, early aughties for poetry, open mics. Local legend CR Avery did some of his very first shows there, most events were run but the Late T. Paul Ste. Marie, who was the best emcee I ever worked with. Someone sorely missed in the scene. RIP Paul.
I have very fond memories of those open mics, and seeing so many friends and great poets every week.
Anyway, my second book, which launched at the more recently disappeared cafe "the Prophouse"... a great evening with local musicians Rodney Decroo, and Wyckham Porteous, opening up for me, they opened for ME. So humbled by that to this day.
A Cure For Mirrors also is inhabited by places of the past, nostalgia. Though written when I lived in these places, now these pieces are nostalgic for me, and evoke stronger memories than even looking at old photos of "The Ship of Love" aka The Santa Rosa, (a block west of Main, on Broadway) where I lived on the 3rd floor with my friends Vince, Andrew, Hersh, and a myriad of short term others... ah Early 90's Mt. pleasant. real grit, not hipster grit. All those hipster restaurants, back in the day (early 90's) were Chinese Canadian greasy spoons, with big booths mostly and cheap greasy breakfasts all day, and usually the worst coffee you ever had. Worse than Bino's. Seriously.
Living in that building, I occupied the bedroom because everyone else came and went kind of willy nilly, and often I had the place to myself, and then there were 6 of us, etc... we were so young. I had a great view of the Lee Building, which was pretty run down back then. The events of In Mt. Pleasant are poetic interpretations of something I saw one of those nights I was there alone.
© 1992 Josie Boyce (Published in 2008, "A Cure For Mirrors" under the name Joe Boyce Burgess)
The second poem is something based "the experience" I had at a party I went to in the mid-late nineties at a well known spot that hosted great house parties. so much booze, so many drugs. But always good times. All my memories of these parties are gauzy and candy coloured, even that time I almost OD'd on shrooms and ingesting pot, okay, and drinking well over a dozen beers... the poem is not about that night, but a similar less yellow eyed, liver killing night at the same house, a house I recall with much fondness, as all I ever did there was party. It's called "Spiders and Wolves."
© 1997 Josie Boyce (Published in 2008, "A Cure For Mirrors" under the name Joe Boyce Burgess)
The third poem I am showcasing from "A Cure For Mirrors," is called "A Ghost In Prayer" and is dedicated to a great old house I lived in, again with a few friends, but not quite as many,we were all a bit older, crankier. My gender dysphoria was at an all time depressing level around this time, and I tried a lot of different masks on, and I consumed too much of everything, from food to booze to drugs, to comic books, and collectibles,
I ended up with no job, and a humongous visa and student loan debt, that eventually i had to flee to japan to pay most of it off. I did make some great friends at that house, of room mates, and folks passing through, there were two little corner grocers nearby that I loved, we had some awesome cats there, and also, the place was pretty haunted. whether you believe in ghosts, or have some other explanation for the freaky shit I experienced, what i got out of it, was an empathy for those still clinging to places they lived and died.
One experience I had, coming to the landing up the stairs, i saw this poem down the end of the hall next to my room.
© 2001 Josie Boyce (Published in 2008, "A Cure For Mirrors" under the name Joe Boyce Burgess)
Hmm I enjoyed doing the little historical bits between poems. i think I will try to keep that up. See what happens when you do something, something else happens!
I have very fond memories of those open mics, and seeing so many friends and great poets every week.
Anyway, my second book, which launched at the more recently disappeared cafe "the Prophouse"... a great evening with local musicians Rodney Decroo, and Wyckham Porteous, opening up for me, they opened for ME. So humbled by that to this day.
A Cure For Mirrors also is inhabited by places of the past, nostalgia. Though written when I lived in these places, now these pieces are nostalgic for me, and evoke stronger memories than even looking at old photos of "The Ship of Love" aka The Santa Rosa, (a block west of Main, on Broadway) where I lived on the 3rd floor with my friends Vince, Andrew, Hersh, and a myriad of short term others... ah Early 90's Mt. pleasant. real grit, not hipster grit. All those hipster restaurants, back in the day (early 90's) were Chinese Canadian greasy spoons, with big booths mostly and cheap greasy breakfasts all day, and usually the worst coffee you ever had. Worse than Bino's. Seriously.
Living in that building, I occupied the bedroom because everyone else came and went kind of willy nilly, and often I had the place to myself, and then there were 6 of us, etc... we were so young. I had a great view of the Lee Building, which was pretty run down back then. The events of In Mt. Pleasant are poetic interpretations of something I saw one of those nights I was there alone.
In Mt. Pleasant
in
those mountains over there
some clouds have landed and
a short rain
is making it's
way
through trees
sloping
into boulders
and falling
towards
vancouver
often in my dreams i am
that woman:
the rain walks
across my face
as i run my
fingers in the
gutter of my bedroom
window
in my dreams often i am that
woman
in among
transformers and high voltage lines cables
she is a black haida shouting distance
out of her mind
and
bent
on hearing a man called
"Darren"
sing for her
she's high
from ground
where fire fighters baffle her noise
in
the
narrow
alley
she's over
...while all are busy saving her
from
straddlingscreaming spirits
and a whole
city block
worth of electric power:
a man four floors
above
her is
on his fire escape chanting
dressed in nothing
but horsenails and suede voices
dust falls down away from
his fingers through gridworked iron and black
into her shingled hair
making
waves
inside her ears and
clearing cleaning
sad spirits from
scraping
scratching
and
hanging
on for that one man who isn't a fireman but
a song
of kissing "Darren"
harder than teeth
and black as Indian
saving her slow like flesh
or a dream
in my sleep often i am that woman often as
it's
raining in
Mount Pleasant .
© 1992 Josie Boyce (Published in 2008, "A Cure For Mirrors" under the name Joe Boyce Burgess)
The second poem is something based "the experience" I had at a party I went to in the mid-late nineties at a well known spot that hosted great house parties. so much booze, so many drugs. But always good times. All my memories of these parties are gauzy and candy coloured, even that time I almost OD'd on shrooms and ingesting pot, okay, and drinking well over a dozen beers... the poem is not about that night, but a similar less yellow eyed, liver killing night at the same house, a house I recall with much fondness, as all I ever did there was party. It's called "Spiders and Wolves."
Spiders & Wolves
it is
one of those parties
at Fish's
where
the mushrooms
glow along my
vegetable of a tongue
& i watch
the road fill with
spiders and wolves
: i think :
my older than
old hands
are frosty
moonlight sculpture
evaporates
into scripture
(under my drunk) laughter
foolish boy that i am i
mishandle rites
of ignorant solitude
: i think :
you’ve got to breathe
lime through teeth
you’ve got to breathe
flatten the music
that’s it.
Try flashy half empty
attempts to get
lost in catacombs
of supple men
: i drink :
i sink
my dream of
teeth into
wolves that taste
all cold &
spidery.
© 1997 Josie Boyce (Published in 2008, "A Cure For Mirrors" under the name Joe Boyce Burgess)
The third poem I am showcasing from "A Cure For Mirrors," is called "A Ghost In Prayer" and is dedicated to a great old house I lived in, again with a few friends, but not quite as many,we were all a bit older, crankier. My gender dysphoria was at an all time depressing level around this time, and I tried a lot of different masks on, and I consumed too much of everything, from food to booze to drugs, to comic books, and collectibles,
I ended up with no job, and a humongous visa and student loan debt, that eventually i had to flee to japan to pay most of it off. I did make some great friends at that house, of room mates, and folks passing through, there were two little corner grocers nearby that I loved, we had some awesome cats there, and also, the place was pretty haunted. whether you believe in ghosts, or have some other explanation for the freaky shit I experienced, what i got out of it, was an empathy for those still clinging to places they lived and died.
One experience I had, coming to the landing up the stairs, i saw this poem down the end of the hall next to my room.
A Ghost in Prayer
(for 909 Windermere)
a cloudless blue dress
sweeps past winter
at night
she cries out
bottles and glasses dance
spinning dust into song
she drinks these
whiskey elegies as
long papery shoulders
slump in a corner
she wakes the living
she shivers low echoes
long dead teardrops
for her dying man already
a ghost before he disappeared
in the fog of her arms
she mourns
being stripped bare
and killed by
her own watery voice
a cloudless blue dress
falls away
dry as prayer
© 2001 Josie Boyce (Published in 2008, "A Cure For Mirrors" under the name Joe Boyce Burgess)
Hmm I enjoyed doing the little historical bits between poems. i think I will try to keep that up. See what happens when you do something, something else happens!
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