Asbestos Heights. David McGimpsey

      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

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