Asbestos Heights. David McGimpsey

      

      DAVID MCGIMPSEY

      ASBESTOS HEIGHTS

      THE CANONICAL NOTEBOOKS

      Coach House Books, Toronto

      copyright © David McGimpsey, 2015

      first edition

      Published with the generous assistance of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council. Coach House Books also acknowledges the support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit.

      LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION

      McGimpsey, David, author

      Asbestos Heights / David McGimpsey.

      Issued also in a printed format.

       ISBN 978-1-77056-415-2 (epub)

      I. Title.

      PS8575.G48A73 2015 C811'.54 C2014-908355-6

      Asbestos Heights is available in a print edition: ISBN 978 1 55245 309 4.

      Purchase of the print version of this book entitles you to a free digital copy. To claim your ebook, please email [email protected] with proof of purchase or visit chbooks.com/digital. (Coach House Books reserves the right to terminate the free digital download offer at any time.)

      for my father, John McGimpsey

      all the flowers in Ville D’Anjou

      & the New York Yankees.

      NOTEBOOK I

      A HARKENING OF FLOWERS

      ‘Hath sorrow struck so many blows upon this face of mine and made no deeper wounds?’ – Richard II

      Some drink grappa in Old Trieste

      Some publish novels with a vanity press

      But I love noodles

      Some name their country homes ‘Le BelleBelle Rive’

      Some name their yachts ‘O Big Mighty Steve’

      But I love noodles

      Some like the taste of mackerel in a can

      Some can’t write essays without quoting Lacan

      But I love noodles

      Some like to consider nude curling the hardest sport

      Some like to call the tansy flower common yellow mugwort

      But I love noodles

      Some love a poem that speaks of rare flowers

      Some wake up and say, ‘Ohmigod! Gotta shower!’

      But I love noodles

      Lettuce

      For poetry’s sake, let us consider

      iceberg lettuce a flower, much as I

      considered (for poetry’s sake) college

      a place where I would find value in life.

      I can’t say whether or not my whole year

      was good for bouquets of iceberg lettuce,

      blooming in beds of bacon and mayonnaise,

      just that I remember their quiet, cold heads.

      Stamen, anther, filament – I clammed up

      for most of the summer. It wasn’t so bad.

      I missed the old provocations of rage,

      moved on, and didn’t gain too much weight.

      Imagine the bride is holding her lettuce

      and, then, tosses it to the eager crowd.

      For poetry’s sake, I really have to say

      I am happy for her among the crispy petals.

      Lichen

      What I remember about the lichen

      were its inevitable invasions.

      It would cover Taco Bell franchises

      if you didn’t respect it and kill it.

      Dogwood blossoms were different, I think.

      In April, in Georgia, I could smell them

      while looking up to the sky, calling

      any scramble of stars Sagittarius.

      From April came May and then other months

      that also demonstrated my general facility

      with the Gregorian calendar. By October,

      I was puking all the cow grass I ate.

      Lichen is a perfect combination

      of algae and fungus, whereas we were

      the perfect combination of liver

      and peaches. We sure were a freezerful.

      Scarlet Geraniums

      A beach towel I bought in Barcelona

      had a crest of scarlet geraniums.

      Who would I give that to besides the one

      I didn’t give the Kim Kardashian towel to?

      Scarlet geraniums are not natural

      to Ville D’Anjou, Quebec. ‘You’re amazing,

      but you will always hurt those who fall

      for your charm. You won’t mean to, but you will.’

      The cover of Ted Hughes’s Birthday Letters

      has a similar strew of geraniums,

      but he wasted no time singing his anthem,

      ‘This One Goes out to the One I Fucked Up.’

      I bought duty-free Iberian ham

      rather than beach gear, which only affirmed

      the Spanish maxim: You always end up

      eating the Iberian ham you love.

      Blackberry

      Eventually, my critique was refined to

      ‘I hope all you sickening snobs just die.’

      I ate blackberries every morning (once)

      and held on to my earned, mature insight.

      What people generally liked about me

      was the thought they could do my job.

      The quality my closest friends loved most

      was that I was ‘a generous tipper.’

      I read on some site blackberries were good

      for the lungs. I knew they tasted really weird.

      Fruits that taste good have soda pops based on them.

      Isn’t that right, Diet Sierra Mist Kiwi?

      Did I mention all the blackberry smoothies

      and drinking them in one gulp, imagining

      I was steadying myself on Jesus’s shoulder?

      Jesus, of course, would just have Diet Sprite.

      Canola Flowers

      If you tore off the tops of canola –

      yellow canola flowers – would you