Carson lives in Fredericton, NB. He has an MA in Creative Writing. His aforementioned winter beard has gone through so many changes. And he’s desperately missed his infamous fellow Vagabonds while away.
Here’s a new poem by Carson. It describes an image spray-painted onto the exterior wall of a building I used to live in.
Linda
there is a knife in your head,
a quiet blade in black and red
and you stand so two-dimensional,
your deafened scream on pause,
a blow-up mouth full of stone.
Linda, you need help.
A soapy bucket might do
but how will you avoid
the hurt man roaming about
with your image in his spray cans?
Linda, you are famous.
Just as Helga who’s shouted after
and sought at every German hard rock
festival, and no one knows
who you are, but everyone knows you.
You stand in silent disbelief
by my front door. I’ve seen you
there in all shades of day and
stages of the moon. Your shoulders
a single curved line, upside-down
“U”, stultified expression painted
on your “O”-shaped head and
the knife stuck in it that I
cannot pull out without wiping
my wailing wall clean of you.
Carson 17.06.09
