Julian Jason Haladyn
Readymade Articulations of Time
archaeology is a funny business
fathers and sons arguing over how long dinner will be
construction contracts become relics
               when they are not properly disposed of
ceilings leak and the toilet is installed sideways
the basement is where all the good stuff is
bootleg coffee mugs and a snow shovel
               that dad claims is worth millions
spray painted love letters are kept in the garage
along with every Christmas present
               that grandma ever got
plastic furniture preserves evidence
fingerprints and a picture of a man in drag
perfume bottles are actually ghosts
               that wake you in the night
               when they have to use the bathroom
easy-bake ovens and expensive cappuccino machines
kitchens are where families comes to die
buried in swimming pool size graves in the backyard
along with an assortment of objects
               that are designed to hide noises
found many years later when the world is no longer
               anything original
Foucault’s Singing Contest Trophy
In the centre of a well worn room
watching over shelves of books and an assortment of
               television memorabilia
               all of which had been won in illegal contests
               staged in the back row of lectures on
               various theoretical subjects
a gold coloured statue like a prison guard in a
               fancy space-age prison
               from a not so distant future
watches from his unidirectional past upon a
               rather pathetic coffee table
               teacups and cookie platters glued to its uneven surface
               it wanted to be hung on a wall
               hanging proudly like a painting of a
               person being hung in the town square
8 copies of an out of print manuscript
               titled “I Forgot Foucault”
               litter the always visible space like gold prisoners
               none of whom would dare open the book
               for fear of death
               self-enforced exile
               or having to actually read it
watch carefully as the frames of context advance in
               circular patterns
               celluloid voices guide the walk around the courtyard
               looking for a place where no one can see
               we make almost circular judgments all the time
               haunted by an idea
when we put money into parking meters
               without judges how would we know who’s
               the better singer
Julian Jason Haladyn is a Canadian writer and artist. His poems have appeared in the collections Crave It: Writers and Arts Food Anthology (2011) and Nuit Blanche: Poetry for Late Nights (2007), as well as numerous journals and magazines. Haladyn is the author of the poetry and art books Fragments of a Funeral Procession (2012), 12 Bulls (2010) and 17/13 (2007), as well as the chapbooks Biographical Notes for an Unrealized Project (2011) and Convulsive Hotel Dreams (2008). As an artist, his work has been exhibited internationally.
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Readymade Articulations of Time
archaeology is a funny business
fathers and sons arguing over how long dinner will be
construction contracts become relics
               when they are not properly disposed of
ceilings leak and the toilet is installed sideways
the basement is where all the good stuff is
bootleg coffee mugs and a snow shovel
               that dad claims is worth millions
spray painted love letters are kept in the garage
along with every Christmas present
               that grandma ever got
plastic furniture preserves evidence
fingerprints and a picture of a man in drag
perfume bottles are actually ghosts
               that wake you in the night
               when they have to use the bathroom
easy-bake ovens and expensive cappuccino machines
kitchens are where families comes to die
buried in swimming pool size graves in the backyard
along with an assortment of objects
               that are designed to hide noises
found many years later when the world is no longer
               anything original
Foucault’s Singing Contest Trophy
In the centre of a well worn room
watching over shelves of books and an assortment of
               television memorabilia
               all of which had been won in illegal contests
               staged in the back row of lectures on
               various theoretical subjects
a gold coloured statue like a prison guard in a
               fancy space-age prison
               from a not so distant future
watches from his unidirectional past upon a
               rather pathetic coffee table
               teacups and cookie platters glued to its uneven surface
               it wanted to be hung on a wall
               hanging proudly like a painting of a
               person being hung in the town square
8 copies of an out of print manuscript
               titled “I Forgot Foucault”
               litter the always visible space like gold prisoners
               none of whom would dare open the book
               for fear of death
               self-enforced exile
               or having to actually read it
watch carefully as the frames of context advance in
               circular patterns
               celluloid voices guide the walk around the courtyard
               looking for a place where no one can see
               we make almost circular judgments all the time
               haunted by an idea
when we put money into parking meters
               without judges how would we know who’s
               the better singer
Julian Jason Haladyn is a Canadian writer and artist. His poems have appeared in the collections Crave It: Writers and Arts Food Anthology (2011) and Nuit Blanche: Poetry for Late Nights (2007), as well as numerous journals and magazines. Haladyn is the author of the poetry and art books Fragments of a Funeral Procession (2012), 12 Bulls (2010) and 17/13 (2007), as well as the chapbooks Biographical Notes for an Unrealized Project (2011) and Convulsive Hotel Dreams (2008). As an artist, his work has been exhibited internationally.
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