Selected Poems

by George Fetherling

Douglas Fetherling's literary career has seen the publication of over forty books on culture, history, and literature. Selected Poems is a gathering of Fetherling's poems from 1965 to the present, a series of intimate, finely crafted confessionals imbued with the sensuality of being. Presented chronologically, this collection offers an insightful overview of almost thirty years of Fetherling's poetry writing.

141 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1994

About the author

Douglas George Fetherling (born January 1, 1949) is a Canadian writer, poet, novelist, biographer, artist, and cultural commentator. One of the most prolific figures in Canadian letters, he has written or edited more than fifty books.
He previously published under the name Douglas Fetherling until 1999, and thereafter under the name George Fetherling, switching to his middle name to honor his father George, after recovering from life-saving surgery for the same medical condition that had killed his father.
One of his most popular works is Travels by Night: A Memoir, which recreates leading personalities and events in the fabled Canadian cultural renaissance of 1965–75.
Fetherling is also a visual artist. He lives in Vancouver.

Reviews

[M.W.P.M. · Rating 4 out of 5]

The ancients have returned among us:
at dusk the prairie wind is mixed

with old french strong music
and heavier than air

Ancients follow seamless skies
to the distant imperfection

of shantytown
near the city's uncut ends

to visit those persisting
with traditions:

the hefty black revolver
that tattoo and that grin

- Poem Beginning with a Title from Philip Lamantia, pg. 18

* * *

The ocean takes its roar away
leaves foam in your mouth
and salt in our dreams

The pain is there
but you don't feel it

Shards of glass like snowflakes
no two ever the same

- Notation #5, pg. 51

* * *

i.
Dead street late at night
even the homeless gone home
a blind man's can protruding from the rubbish

ii.
Car park attendant
in lonely hut with saxophone
an audience of empty Buicks

iii.
Let the record show
that details are lacking -
bogus dawn hesitates over rooftops

iv.
Alms from heaven
night-birds strike the CN Tower
breakfast for the derelicts

v.
The present is blocking the future
southbound towards delusion
seven a.m. on the Don Valley Parkway

vi.
Bits of old messages
in layers on the answering machine
a bristle from the brush embedded in the portrait

vii.
Old man sitting in the park
grey pullover keeps out autumn
the last leaf remaining on the tree

viii.
Two joggers in the rain
a red-haired woman reading Aldous Huxley
- not much to show for a day's work

ix.
Conscience and indigestion
danger increases as the seasons change
utopia made her claustrophobic

x.
Petroglyphs sprayed in alleys
but invocations go unanswered
the innocent traveller steps from the kerb

xi.
Big greasy snowflakes
plunging to the street outside
the waitress 10 years older than she was 6 weeks ago

xii.
Tomorrow's archaeology today
the mirror's backed up again
office towers sweating

xiii.
Main title theme & incident music
the waitress is really an actress
tips & applause

xiiii.
The walls inhale
thinking of Byzantium
seven passengers arise

xv.
He answered the door once too often
got nailed
three days later resurrection

xvi.
"The city is something you do with space" (Thos Merton)
buildings bend before they break
sway in time with the silence

xvii.
The world is too much with us
we have given our hearts away
days the man taking notes at the party

xviii.
Language derives from sighs
bills of atonement
the past is legally binding

xix.
Buzzards stake out those
who circle in four-door sedans;
two weeks of expressionist rain

xx.
The after-hours joint
where all the bartenders hang out
the animals' field-trip to the zoo

- Rites of Alienation, pg. 77-