illimitable reality wreck

Sitting under a maple
tree in Cornwallis Park,
across from hotel, train
and bus station with
hours to go before I
board, last hours in
Halifax.

Tired, caffeinated, it’s
raining so I can’t really
wander. Not cool though
– a bit fresher but still
muggy like the whole
week here.

Much accomplished –
reconnected with Keith,
Reg, Sara, Darren. Saw
Colleen in Hantsport, her
busy beautiful work space.
Taped sounds, conversations,
walks, took multo
pictures – Goat Lake,
even – shocking how much
is arbitrarily torn down
in Halifax for trashy
apt / condo boxes,
downtown highrise crap.

I’m very sleepy here in
the wet rainy green park
but I’m dry under this
fine tree.

People in hfx are friendly.
Just random strangers
will talk to me here,

Found great poetry books
at Trident (used buddhist
bookstore), rekkids at Taz
(new locale, got the Q104
LP hoorah!)

Now it rains harder – I’m
moving to train station

1 ½ hrs to loading for
bus to mtl

Soft rain light in the
train station. Woman
behind me speaking an
oriental language. Blue-
nose model in window.
Tourists taking snaps.
Kiosks of dark wood
panelling.

Foggy rainy – crazy humid
NS. Everyone talks about
the environment – I
mean guy in tourist
nicknack shack dep in
Mahone Bay does. No
capt pepper old salty
tho – Darren does have
that look about him
tho, as Keith noted.
Gnarled as an old Ent.

Loaded up on French toast
this morn, no wonder I’m
dead on my feet. Too
much up too late Inglorious
Basterds TV.

Get into mtl tomorrow
morning. My time sense
is shot. I left my
glasses in a Tim Horton’s
bathroom in Edmunston,
have to check on way
back, or else I gotta
buy a new pair (after
21 years or so!).

Very pregnant beauty
is the oriental speaker,
I think. No, different
person (she speaks now
on phone as I write.)

No Morses Tea.

Found Morses Tea in the
superstore next door.
Rain had stopped. I
wandered up to Inglis,
Found Schooner Books.
Not open Sunday but I
took a picture gleefully
(last frame, last roll.)

Now it’s infernally
hot / humid out, sun
shining balefully, it
feels / sounds like an
indoor swimming pool in
this train station.
So maybe back to the
park?

– 19 Aug 12 –

Drift of fresh air through the
Doomed Spring Garden
Library reference room
windows – banjo plays and
I see the Folklore Centre
unchanged across the
street

A locked research room in
King’s Library, carefully
ordering and spreading
open and poring over fragile
pages of Halifax Today

Moments of silence are
rare in the zone of Keith’s
raw raw raw tone and yet
it’s the channel surfing
that finally makes me
lash out in trapped animal
despair and puzzled fury

Trolling ancient Schooner
shelves, where once I found
my sacred Kerouacs and
Henry Millers

Morning coffees on concrete
balcony seven storeys
high

Just go out there and
wander

– 24 Jun 13 –