transparencies by Jeremy Stewart

not having spoken for along while flood of words in mind
recedes to leave    pure                    colour



that night the northern lights: green          evergreens
black along the side of the highway. Silence that can sing    a song
whose echoes can be heard from far
             away    as here

        to make a record of the season       
           precipitate decisions on the page

headlight rhythms         or the all-time high for this date


early winter rains get into clothes and won't go
"least I don't have to shovel this stuff" 
                                  says the wide-eyed taxicab driver
as he arrives. As he arrives           he leaves   falling
water on coat sleeves  sounds of no thing     & resounds.   She plays
the electric bass   to a smiling Jesus who cannot be seen. Sings loudly 
or softly into a microphone  rejoicing. A weightless grace is on the room
 traces              the line              level hum



surface texts & textures / pine bark    paper birch    road dirt
diffuse day    automotive yawn    disremembered elder    hwys. 16 & 97
    telephone poles:    numberless

gutter disperses all drops down into the drainage as the lungs
heave & ask what can be expected



disappearing takes  children out of no field  here is where you 
imagine the nearby park   Carrie Jane Gray   perhaps

transparencies scatter light very little
over time      over time            over time      over time

the law came to me
    in a dream      I answered (then was answerable--

"you love me"   I can't feel   so cold
 until until.    "I am in love with you"      interminable moments.

Raked leaves together in my yard
    the pattern    the veins     the words

teleological text    seasonal narrative           not to be repeated
        except as fractal mis en abyme

photograph croons into a microphone
  listen          

  holds musical housekeys
  jingling in the pockets

sees a man return to the river
and not return

lower pressure above us: continuous 
inhalation / exhalation exchange changing 
channels and rivulets exhaust clouds / forms cloud

naked without a clear mirror; fog breathing
forget   nothing             draw parallels            face   up

shower in the dark of winter being
         born


when you are gone   you will smile. I will
sing circularity   feedback / ground loop   sonic fire

here is a fadeout movie. Now walk into a snow-covered
parking lot   a fadeout movie. Now walk in

two dissolving frames   burn in the projector
beam   cry if you want to cry. I laugh and cry

        to a snow
parking lot. The downtown buildings need rustproof paint.

You are not gone. You are happy. You are
starting to see the frames   become ashes and still

know the names of streets   of trees
   I hold hands with you & see the projector

want to tell you about the movie   but when
will there be time for us   talking?

GAIA UNBC Student Creative Writing Anthology SawDust

SAWDUST the annual UNBC student anthology of creative writing is now available. You can purchase a copy at the UNBC bookstore or at a local reading near you! $10 of great local writing. Email Earson Gibson for more information.

inversions of faith by Rob Budde

for P.G.


a high pressure press
the poetry of socked in and breathing hard

sunk, dumped on, and developing
symptoms, the air an irony;
worker’s compensation sucked back

a microbrew fermenting, sweet
resistance in merely looking around

parts of speech a fine
particulate i assume daily, take it
on faith, wondering too
if eskers are real

the language of servitude is an aggressive one
piled up against the spare in the back

being used is a foregone
illusion, fiscal pride spray
painted in orange on the back of each load out

wooden blood, the arteries a single lane
bypass and seasonal pacemaker—seizing

but this is
about faith, about inhaling
and admitting it—
being here, looking up at the press of sky and
staying


Dec/2004