The House on the Brink

First published in 1971, "The House on the Brink" by John Gordon is a classic.  I first read it about 25 years ago on one of my book trips to Vancouver, B.C.  My mother read it as well and would often comment on how this odd book haunted her...a terrified lady and a seemingly malevolent log moving up the beach toward her house.   I also felt haunted by this book...and in an odd way makes me feel closer to my mother who died six years ago. This time I picked up the richness of the physical and emotional landscape, electrifying poetic word pictures, along with an equally compelling narrative...buzzing with energizing creativity.   

Let me give you a sense of the writing.  This passage is about a boy daring himself into stealing a rowboat...

   Act now.
   He looked quickly up and down the wharf.  Still
alone.  He went to the edge.  The cruiser had its fenders
out and was held even farther from the wharf by a wide
baulk in the water.  A couple of yards.  But there were
handgrips along the canopy over the cockpit and a
ledge for his feet.  He leaped, reaching for the grips.  His
feet hit the deck.
   A boat is a floating drum.  The thud of his feet
echoed within it, and at that instant he thought of
people on board.  He clung, and fear stripped him as
clean as a skeleton.  It happened once in every real dare.

(page 13, "The House on the Brink")

Read his words aloud.  His writing truly comes alive.  Equally effective creative writing is John Gordon's "The Giant in the Snow" (1969).

Shiftings

bring in the detachments
those suffering litters to come
red with brown beetles
littered by the sun.
bring those who hunger and thirst for righteousness
For His Name Sake
All capitalized like it means something
When it might mean nothing
bring in what you will
the can is waiting for you
It can not hear
It only listens
Some plane overhead
Never you
And that is the same with our holy god
All lower case like it means something
bring in what you will
The meaning
Ever changing, ever the same
The can is always there
In your shiftings
Into each present
And under the shiftings
Something solid
Call it what you will.

Denis Streeter 5/4/12

Waiting for more...

I'd actually be curious what direction you would take this...


Waking up
Four and a half
"I'll be chuffled!, he said
Looking in the mirror
There were two of them
The mirror looked back
"There's another!"
The lights turned off
His glasses off
The clock turned thirteen
Brushing his teeth
Hoping for lumination
The words shut down
Dust reading sweaty palms
Waiting for more...

Denis Streeter 4/20/12

Come willingly

When the past was dreaming
I got up walking
Sedimentary dreaming
When the walks were warming
Bicycle caps and hubs of tears
Of car crash dreaming
The radiators shot
And t-shirts sweat and glow
Not for want of lacking
Just under grounds of dismissal
Where the car chases lie
And the damsels tie their distress
Where the sheep herd cattle
Under the onion ring sun
Cheap as a sun lit dollar
But bigger than a dime
When the removals came
All boarded up
Before the cowlicks arrived
All cud and grass and no arrival
When the washboards teared
When nothing was done
Under the sun
And the flesh pots ate
What nobody knew
Just before the dawn of time
When my living room woke up
All legs, feet, and torso
When my feet arrived
And started talking
Head arrival unknown
Except the clock in my mind
The dresser in my drawer
The silence within
The confusion to follow
And the will to take it all in.

Denis Streeter 4/5/12

Tunneling

When the sands were dry
And the dust began to cleeve
The clearing ahead
Of cloak and ashes
The coal left behind
Planting morning fire
In the residue too soon
While the jackets dry
And the dust danced
Drift settling in sand
The waters primal flow
Spirals leave shells
Behind drifts of light
A starfish leaps
Barnacles and leaves
Waves awake
Tapping sleeves
Just before noon
When the sun dips low
That pegasus flight
And the shadows
Hunger light
The bowls disappear
And frankincense demures
The mirror shatters
Two faces
Seen dimly
Through sifts of sand
Shells of tunnels
In lands of light
The coal compression
Facets reflection
Mirror inspecting
Before the sands reply
And the dust began to weave.

Denis Streeter 4/15/12

Riddling

I shaved the riddle backwards, but it ran in circles
Knocking off noon when summer came around
But it was still Spring, so I put it in a tunnel
Burrowing its hole so it couldn't be discovered
I sent a worm after it, but it was slow and confused
I sent an aphrodite, but all it did was giggle
I sent a clam and now they're lovers
I used my secret whistle and it ran in circles
I shaved the riddle backwards when the sun began to thaw
Knocking off noon as a knocked up clam
And now I hear little riddles all the time
I still don't understand what they're saying
But it fills me with delightful confusion
I love to hear their laughter and
They love to see confusion
So I clam up when the sun begins to thaw
Burrow down, catch one by the leg
I shaved the riddle backwards, but it ran in circles
Washing shores in a wet lipped goodbye
Riddling oceans with laughter's song.

Denis Streeter 4/3/12

What is it

Now the box is open
Now the box is empty
I opened the door but it leaked out
Exploring fibers yet unknown
And its breath was salty and fresh
Light and dark
Filled with contradiction
Or perhaps different ways of knowing
I laughed, it laughed
But we meant different things
Now the box is empty
Now the box is open
Go and chase your unknown
May it lead you to love.

Denis Streeter 4/2/12