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'Tis Pity (book cover)

’tis pity

Author:


Part memoir, part creative non-fiction, part poetic score without music, part off Broadway show without a cast, part bungalow for gender dysphoric bachelorettes, ‘Tis Pity is furnished with poems that dart lyrically in and out of each other, bumping like herds of chameleons racing through a self-elegiac labyrinth toward an unspecified finish line.

‘Tis Pity, David Bateman, ISBN 978-1-897181-57-7, Poetry, 96 pages, Paperback, 6″ x 9″, $15.95

Currently based in Toronto, David Bateman is a visual artist, performance poet, and playwright whose most recent performance piece, Does this Giacometti Make Me Look Fat? or Art Immuno Deficiency Syndrome, was presented in New Orleans in the spring of 2010. A Brief History of White Virgins or The Night Freddy Mercury Kissed Me was presented across Canada in 2009, and his spoken word monologue What’s It Like? has been presented in Montreal, Toronto, Peterborough, and Cyprus (2010). He has taught literature and creative writing at a variety of Canadian post-secondary institutions. His two collections of poetry, Invisible Foreground and Impersonating Flowers, have been published by Frontenac House (Calgary). Frontenac has also published his collaborative long poem entitled Wait Until Late Afternoon, written with poet/novelist Hiromi Goto.

pleasure

he does not see the sky as more beautiful and bright
in the dying light
he has always known that blue is blue
and radiant
and that clouds are soft
and tantamount to the pillows of a goddess
roughly pushing luck and privilege
in and out of lives

he does not stare more keenly at the moon and stars
he has always known that precious celestial cars
have driven him to worlds he craved and cherished

he does not regret the solid diving into pleasure
to have arrived here with so much sensation thrill and leisure
and then to perish

there is something perfect
in the deconstructed pose of willows
meant to weep and droop and plummet to the ground

like fonts of leaves rooted in the earth
with trunks that smile and frown
groaning merrily sheathed by blades of grass
on mounds of dirt

tall proud flowers desolate and happily bound by inches
ashes dust and earth