VERSeFEST 17
By Lukasz Lukaszek
copenhagen, spain and les trumps unies
have forgiven this city's mother,
her nature too skeptical,
moods so shifty
like a bad relationship,
and welcomed vancouverites and edinburghians
dressed in Hawaiian tease who thought of vacation,
saw none of it,
then altered their plans for verse's sake
because church going and truth reading
have one thing in common:
some of it is about faith
and the other about listening.
the unfortunately hidden aspect
of our local literary scene faired well
in the hands of folk who reached them out
to birds stuck to oil in a state of red,
where the demand for orange is great.
some filled minds with danish pastries
as well as first Ulrikke moments, her
bopping, grooving, making this a capital reading, indeed.
there were others among les fous du ville,
bards mistakenly princing Kerouac
all loud and angry, hoola hoop curls
with a better view than vision, and Canada's
most dangerous poet proclaiming,
“poetry will save us
for it brings us
back to the sensuous body of language.”
unless it’s translated, then we're just
stuck with a ton of cliches.
and if Vanier could talk, it would talk about
Sir Dennis’ “monkey shit stained brown Buick”, property
of the uncle sitting in the clean laneway, while he
stones butterflies to talk in CapCity's two
official languages: political and poet.
activists! poetry needs you | no time for guilties or the weak:
it’s about recital of the fittest,
digging must be “forbidden like storming
banks or parliament,”
notes from the detained must be composed and gentle,
but strike! when necessary like the defence missions of
united nations that sound good on paper, but are not poems
themselves and distract populations with deadly blossoms.
Jordan was Abel to get it right - turn off the lights with
creativity aflicker and voice loops meaning to say that
no matter how much the indigenous speak, nobody hears it.
while the activists fought, the lovers fucked generously,
poets peed first when Madhur had to go,
Kayla licked wounds caused by toxic masculinity
and a Cannon fired x2 into the humble air of Alabama,
where dollar Bill ate all the crocodiles, had nothing
to do and lived in a polluted well.
some frolicked onstage, others said club soda
was the drink of alcoholics, so we drank beer instead
and the Czar of Britain’s Columbia spoke of the real struggle
and blockbuster closure as well as double tapped hearts.
if we've learned something, it is to not sit quietly,
perched like birds, words can wipe existence, launch wars
and to write is to make them protectors of common folk.
Ask Mehico - racism is still alive,
but where is it really from?
no mansplaining needed for it hits home when a woman
slams it down with,
“sexual assault is the only thing men alone can solve.”
you'd think she's a Lounatic, but tell me she's wrong.
The Truth Is that “God’s busy with seven billion other crazy folk,”
and “night falls as night will, out of nowhere,” in Ireland.
In Ottawa, “there’s not a cloud in the sky”... and it’s snowing.
Photo by Andrew Macartney, 2017
If I could tell you why I am compelled to take pictures I don’t think there’d be any point in me doing it. Sometimes there is no rational or thought for me to articulate only a need to shoot. Between steps I look and listen to everything going on around me subtly analyzing the world on a day to day basis. I read the big stories at home and step outside the door to experience their trickle down in the bubble of my own existence.
Maybe photography for me then is as much about making art as it is about reaching out and finding ways to make connections with the world; to understand the goings-on outside my own periphery.
Andrew Macartney is a student of photographic arts based in Ottawa, Canada. He brings to his practice an assortment of film cameras of various formats from full frame to large format giving him an ability to slow down and make an honest attempt to consciously choose worthwhile places and moments. Andrew covers a range of subjects for reasons he is only beginning to understand outside a mere ‘love of photography.’ Andrew has shown at SPAO’s Exhibition No.11, Contact Photography Festival and the Ottawa Art Gallery.
I shop differently than I used to. I also don't pay for many things anymore. I guess knowing of the incredible treasures to be found in the garbage can lead to that real quick. But anyhoo, how quickly things change.
I went through a phase once of spending lots of money on wellness shit and organic food. I was making a fair bit of money during this time so it worked. Then life happened, I became frugal (raiding clearance sections ayyy), and began to spend less and less. Later I spent all my money on yoga trainings and travel. Money became a limited resource. Lucky for me, some great souls spoke of dumpster diving in a way that gave me the confidence to try it. And so I did, and my first night at it I pulled out three full boxes of organic produce in seconds (high score yo). It’s kind of a super power. Just last night I was walking down Bronson and found a great Columbia sleeping bag in some sidewalk garbage bin which I then slept in that same night.
“Thats nice”, you say. Indeed it is. Not worrying about money as much has done wonders. Being able to travel almost moneyless was a magical experience. I don’t pay for food very often anymore (at least when I have time to cook, lately that’s been a challenge). My line of work in food waste recovery and redistribution on campuses helps out a fair bit (a lot) when times get tough, but that aside, I know the ways.
Consider this:
Walking down the produce section, you notice many a blemish on assorted sections of produce. People seem to be averse to said blemishes, so there is a fair expectation that they may be thrown away. So all those apples and tomatoes are basically garbage that hasn’t made its way to the compactor yet. But wait! See all those other shiny pristine pieces of granny smiths about? Imagine a third or so will be tossed too. Now stop imagining and understand that a third of those grannies (or some other significant amount) will be tossed too. Likewise for all the other produce too. And those cosmetics too. And the packaged food items too. And meat and dairy and bread. Basically, a lot of it will end up in the garbage, compacted or recoverable in the bags in the dumpster (heheh).
This is what I see in grocery stores. I see inevitable waste (I see other things too). And then I go around back when the sun sets and it’s all right there. And I can have it. Only this time I don’t have to pay for it. And I get a workout out of it too (diving is quite laborious, let me tell you). It's a predictable series of events, happening every day, in almost every food selling establishment everywhere. And it’s makes me gag. I don’t need that many containers of yoghurt, or 20 different bottles of assorted supplements and herb powders in capsule form. Or eyeshadow. A bunch of kale, some root veggies and a loaf of bread do me well. Think broccoli is scary? Imagine having to decide whether to drag two dozen heads back home or take one and accept that it will be wasted. You get over it pretty quick though, you’d be dead before you can carry that much produce home.
Maybe they should give it away or something. Maybe to their employees. Could be a thing to try
.