folio : Barry McKinnon (1944-2023)
My first basement rental suite in PG was about two houses down from Barry’s on Gorse Street. My first winter there, he helped push me out of deep snow in my little VW Rabbit, and as I sped off, front wheels still spinning, he shouted something encouraging to me. I didn’t really know who he was then, didn’t really know who anyone was. I joined a writing group and started attending poetry readings. I remember getting some air with him in the landing of Art Space during an intermission. He growled something like, “Don’t they know narrative is dead?” I had no intention of arguing with him.
There were two things he said about poetry that stuck with me. He once told me about a jazz drummer who smoked and drank as he played (Barry was an accomplished drummer himself), and when the drummer was asked why he did this, he said it was so he wouldn’t have to think about the drumming. He also told me about a race car driver that claimed, “he drove with his ass,” that is, the vibrations of the car told him everything he needed to know about the vehicle’s current condition and trajectory. Barry, I think, tried to write that way, tried to write without thinking about the writing, tried to suss out what he could about the world, about his life, tried to sense the ineffable as he was experiencing it in his daily walks. Even though we had wildly different writing styles, he was always gracious to me. Cheers to Barry!
Al Rempel’s books of poetry are Undiscovered Country, This Isn't the Apocalypse We Hoped For, and Understories. He has a new book of poems forthcoming with Caitlin Press in 2025 entitled Sprocket. His poems have also appeared in a variety of journals, anthologies, and chapbooks. Rempel has collaborated with artists in the creation of a number of videopoems, some which have been screened internationally. His poems have also been translated into Italian and Spanish. More information can be found at: www.alrempel.com.
