attacks
among others québec january 29 2017
tried
everything
failed
at everything
doesn’t
matter
try
again
fail
again
fail
better
after
samuel beckett, cap au pire (worstward
ho!)
some days
when the unacceptable
takes on personal hues
i brood over a black fire
that gives me a stomach ache
i expel heavy tears
soak up a vengeance
that feels good for a bit
like a sex pistols song
a shovelful of adrenaline
a brown sugar rush
then the powerless fall
with its cynical moments
before i sit on the ground
take a deep breath
before i get up in spite of the fractures
since there’s nothing else to do
but to get back up
clinging to the wall
take up the march again
the war against inertia
and keep on
so that on some days
we feel better
(march 2017)
residence
poetry is the last lighthouse
in rising seas
lawrence
ferlinghetti
for
whom poetry is his residence
i could build a house
from a decrepit cabin
in the woods near a lake
like al purdy
after his irregular travels
in the far north and the city
searching for words
to describe the imperfect silence
of water of forest of animals
i could find myself
in other circumstances
in a decrepit cabin
somewhere in mexico
dying in delirium
of an excess of cheap alcohol
in a tornado of spit words
like malcolm lowry’s consul
i could rent a bunker
like william burroughs in new york
a fortified place to stay inside oneself
focused on work
because visions come from silence
welcoming visitors from time to time
to avoid forgetting other humans
i could live in a monastery
like gary snyder
to find the peace
my means can get me
cut myself off from the world
for a little while
soak up greenery and infinity
forget even to write
the stay would be short
too much tranquility
too close to the idea of god
maybe
i could live
in a hotel room
like jean genet
after a last exit from jail
essentially nomadic
two small black suitcases
or a sailor’s bag
some clothes two or three books
a few writings in progress
spirit in alert
waiting for a distress call
to change rooms
cities
countries
i could live on a ship
travel the world like herman melville
and thousands of others
feed on elsewhere’s smells
on people’s spirit
on the territory’s history
on surprising landscapes
to give birth at my return
to a whale calf
a few words to illuminate
images i’d have brought back
that carry freedom
i could buy an apartment
live in europe like franz kafka
facing the armies of ignorance
the ghosts of the disappeared
the arbitrariness of life
in a safe place
as long as senselessness
stays in the hallway
on the other side of the door
which it never does
(june-july 2016)
poetry in caraquet
before the foggy bay
you can’t see the other shore
behind the super-eight
you don’t feel too important
before the mother sea
out of breath often enough
the sea air shocks your system
you don’t walk too far
in this ribbon city
along the serrated coast
but you look stubbornly
pumping in the salt water
through all your visible pores
then you go read and listen to poems
with newfound friends of speech
in a bar that’s used to artists
the back yard of a village bistro
an atmospheric theatre auditorium
a home of attentive ladies
a multimediated warehouse
where poetry danses a joyous song
the bell tower of a church
unhooked from the sky for the grass
and close to an disused lighthouse
against the muted melody of the sea
and on the dock where 500 people
bring back to life
their seafarers lost at sea
then you also learn
how to burn down a stone church
by lighting a votive lamp
for grandma so kind
one night quite late in front of the hotel
chatting and smoking cigarettes
with a québécois mason of your age
who rode from home on his motorcycle
to assess the brand new ruins
of the saint-paul de bas-caraquet church
for the future of the monument
on the way back
above the irregular clouds
you have your own fire
you see the setting sun
copper the lit lakes
(september 2018, Festival acadien de poésie, august 2 to 5 2018)
[Jérôme Melançon also reviewed allumettes here]
Actor, poet, and translator born in Montreal in 1950, Charles Leblanc moved to Manitoba in 1978 and took up the trades of industrial worker and translator; he also hosts a radio show dedicated to jazz and unusual music. His passion lies above all with theatre and literature. Throughout the years he co-founded six theatre companies in Québec and in Manitoba, did improv with the Ligue d’improvisation du Manitoba, did political theatre with the Popular Theatre Alliance, and acted in productions by the Théâtre Cercle Molière, among others. Along the way, he has published with Éditions du Blé a collaborative book of epistolary stories and ten collections of poetry of the street and of the heart. He is also one of the cofounders of the Association des auteur·e·s du Manitoba français (AAMF).
Jérôme Melançon writes and teaches and writes and lives in oskana kâ-asastêki / Regina, SK. His most recent chapbook is with above/ground press, Tomorrow’s Going to Be Bright (2022, after 2020’s Coup), and his most recent poetry collection is En d’sous d’la langue (Prise de parole, 2021). He has also published two books of poetry with Éditions des Plaines, De perdre tes pas (2011) and Quelques pas quelque part (2016), as well as one book of philosophy, La politique dans l’adversité (Metispresses, 2018). He has edited books and journal issues, and keeps publishing academic articles that have nothing to do with any of this. He’s on Twitter mostly, and sometimes on Instagram, both at @lethejerome.
