poem – PAUL db WATKINS

𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕟’ ℂ𝕒𝕟𝕒𝕒𝕟: 𝔹𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕜 ℂ𝕒𝕟𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕒𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕖𝕥𝕣𝕪, 𝕄𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℂ𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕫𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡 is officially out! Seeing it in physical form is truly special. Music weaves through the book, and just in the Prelude, I reference Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On,” Nina Simone’s “Mississippi G**dam,” and Oscar Peterson’s “Hymn to Freedom.” Get your copy today!

Nanaimo Book Launch, Feb 6th, 2025

The first launch will take place on February 6th at The Vault Café (499 Wallace St) and will feature poet and musician Sonnet L’Abbé (Sonnet’s Shakespeare) and Nanaimo Poet Laureate Neil Surkan (Unbecoming). I’ll also be performing remixed versions of sections from the book. Doors open at 6:30 p.m., and the readings will run from 7:00 to 8:00 p.m. Come by and grab a signed copy!

Victoria Book Launch, March 13, 2025

A second launch will happen in Victoria on March 13th at Paul Phillips Hall (1928 Fernwood Road). This event will feature poet Wayde Compton (Performance Bond, The Outer Harbour, Toward an Anti-Racist Poetics). Doors open at 6:30 p.m., with an open mic at 7:00 p.m. Featured readings and an interview will start at 7:30 p.m.

Local folks: I hope to see you at one of the events! Also, for any local Nanaimo folk, you can grab a copy of the book from @windowseatbooks.

Warmly,
Paul

before you finish eating breakfast in the morning, you’ve depended on more than half of the world.
-Martin Luther King Jr.

polyphonic murmurings
the city speaks
even while it sleeps.
we are more than ourselves
the sum of our parts
is the larger part of something.
the whole world is allegorical.

our coffee is a miracle of globalization:
a seed is planted,
years later little nimble fingers harvest the cherries:
roasted, processed, it arrives across oceans, hot java,
we sip its velvety elixir & go about our day.

wearing bluejeans, crafted from swaths of denim in a factory
somewhere on a map in a county we’ve never been to.
we transport bodies in oiled machines that run on the commerce of drilling,
& eat our lunches in the break rooms of silent killings.

a solitary pig travels from farmactory to the killing fields.
we eat the animal we never could never know,
walk our dogs after, pet our cats, & yet,
all our bellies buzz with bellowing hunger.

we are all hungry for love, for comfort, for the workings of everyday niceties.
there is no human that is not a part—however apart—of the cacophonous pulling of all things.

the exploding of ourselves is like the imploding stars we’ve inherited.
we share in the cry of babies & the undulation of the ocean.
even if you can’t see or hear the howl of a starving child, we still play part to its cosmic tragedy.
miracles don’t end at the bottom of a coffee cup thrown casually into a recycling receptacle.

they end cause life gets in the way.