I/O: A Colborne Psalter (01 – 23), by Gil McElroy

for Heather

⁰¹O

who has not

stood, or

sat, night

& day

nor

paced beside a stream^{There. There your eyes turn, considering the creek, the springs, the}

^{rising land away from the lake subdued and sundered by highway, caught}

^{between such & same},

the wind & judgement

dying out

⁰²You

let me be,

gracious & long

in your heart

You

have given,

& I, I

shall lie down,

here

trembling^{like grass. They gathered & saw, walked about & counted, the corn}

^{a sea waist-high in places, the orchards gnarled with young fruit, & chickens roaming free, strutting}

^{& scratching in the narrow between barn & road almost underwheel as I pull up}

^{to the mailbox}

asking

³Consider

me, because

you will

you will &

I shall

my mouth,

broken^{What destruction makes: the house that oversaw the lakeshore quarry}

^{& the rail tracks doubled between, one day broken next}

^{utterly gone but for a footprint of concrete}

⁰⁴O,

I said,

O, because

I have^{O, the trials}

& because I have, I

shall

I

shall melt, sorely

vanish

vex’d

my

eyes gone

away from me, the wedge of tempers grown

old.

⁰⁵Be

gracious & know

this, the

seasons loosed from

troubles, the

regions ^{Memory. Not fully memory, no, but not risk either. Totally you would with it, with}

^{the red-tailed hawk in the tree beside the sidewalk that surprises you surprising it. With}

^{a sweep of wing not goes on, valued differently}
of

bread

eye-high:

My mouth

is tight & hard-

rimmed

When I cry

on my bed, be

silent

had to be

wanted^{This place a place of rates & flawed settlements. Behind the house the wooden-lidded well found}

^{beneath layer of  thin soil and grass large enough for a child to plunge through,&  the afternoon shudder of quarry blast…}

^{& O, every ratio of}

Since

the eye minds,

keep us

in the days

of dowsed contours, all true

& such

Our own

by us

is the night

⁰⁷Why

the lines puzzled,

asking why

I was asking

why

You have

the barbed affection

at hand

& I

not

& when I, I

shall fear, who^{For your name, who are they?}

will clean

me?

⁰⁸Listen

to us,

who, guided,

wait, re-

collecting

our vital

heat

who, waking,

shall clear away the branches     

& so see

up, toward the full

Moon^{Its freezing of concentrations}

who will

sound

who will

hear

who will

feed you/who will

fill you

up, open,

up

⁰⁹I have

taken off

my hands

I have

let go

I have

listened

In a moment, open

your^{The great is to you. You begin behind your steps} mouth

¹⁰Wash me,

to prove

I was

born

Sprinkle me,

& my bones

will steady

me

Do not

give me back

the moveable views^{Foolishness, mine, failing to lift the shed door clear. Thoughtless me, my weight, my head versus the heavy door’s  inertial steel beam. Mine the acceleration.  Mine the}

^{pain & shifted thoughts. & O, all mine the}

^{months of distortion}

Save me

from my

tongue

¹¹I

have visited,

& I have

seen

I

have remembered,

& I have

thought

They

that hunt me,

they shall be

stopped – by my bed^{Hardly historical}

shall be

stopped

weary

& without

water

¹²The lake

&

the hills

the running in

the middle

break

burn

be^{The animal, first, the astonishment of a barn owl in your headlights, flushed}

^{from highway curve in wintry pre-dawn, & then}

^{your self-shiver heading west.}

quiet

¹³I said

I will

I will

Living like

a ghost^{Behaving in dark corners}

My time

my tears

& the number

of nothing

¹⁴Do

not, & they^{That summer’s six turkey vultures, the}

^{roadside roadkill feeding of each}

^interrupted

will

because

I was young

& would not

wait

¹⁵Give

& in-

cline

things that

we will not

hide

In

the sight

of land, in

the daytime, split

rocks, make^{Cool, hard desire}

streams

¹⁶They have, but

I never^{You’ll have a soul next year, one self-electrified & with nothing to do but ever,}

^even

The furrows

were just, the

withered grass like

rope in the fields

In these arms

no one

stays

¹⁷They have

looked on

because they

are strong

like^{Like atoms, after all}

the hands

over my mouth

¹⁸When I

was dappled

& everything before

my eyes

scorned

choosing^{Atop a chair (kitchen) for want of a ladder (step).The clothesline’s cedar terminus}

^{& feeding black-capped chickadees untroubled by your presence. The suddenness}

^{of wings towards you: a hawk in close pursuit of a thing with feathers. Hawk wings}

^{almost touch your face, chase on towards the garage, tightly double back, then}

^{take a hard left down the driveway & away.}

^{& gone. The suddennesses accumulate, eventually}

^{finding hawk on low branch in the maple tree where the driveway ends, gripping}

^{the surprise of bark} the fire

¹⁹What

things, O what

good

things

My trust

is every mo-

ment given

me

Make

the words by

my breath^{The durations, the proper intervals, the rituals of hesitation, the}

^{heaviness & thickenings. My wife’s lungs, her pneumonia, the nearness of death, the}

^{narrowness of our concentrations, intensive, &  the fear, O, the}

^{fear I breathed in}

^{& out},

their

hot & cold

qualifications

broken

bringing

²⁰Patience,

more &

more – the

numbers of

them since I was

young

Troubles

&^{A sense of tedious baggage} adversities

from the deep places

of the earth

& more

do me

harm

²¹I am,

merely, &

I am,

shaken

I

can count: a few drops of water ^{Hanging laundry, the sun}

^{haloed & dogged (parahelia, though only one, the eastern such). Only the cold}

^{makes such concentration. Heather}

^{inside, breathing}, melted

wax, clay shards

in the dirt…

I am

all of my bones I can count

in the grave

²²Do you

in deed, so that

it does

not

Spare each

evening, that we may flee ^{Motley skates, & so forth}

to it

& portion out

the balance

²³The

ruthless, they

have not

& all

for you, for

they, with

one mind^{The dance from a distance, rising & falling black thru dry winter air.}

 ^{Crow outrage. Abandoned telephone pole set lone in field, now capped white, a}

^{barn owl eyeing corn stubble below seeking small verbs beneath the snow, focused}

^{& oblivious to the urgency above.}

^{The concentrations.}

    ^{The secondary nouns.}

^Eventually,

^hawks

like chaff blown

then

murmured

Early versions of some of these poems appeared in Last Scattering Surfaces (Talonbooks, 2007).

Gil McElroy is a poet, artist, independent curator, and freelance art critic. He is  the author of Gravity & Grace: Selected Writing on Contemporary Canadian Art, four books of poetry, and the non-fiction memoir Cold Comfort: Growing Up Cold War. McElroy lives in Colborne, Ontario with his wife Heather.