Raymond Klassen – Ideals and Identities

I don’t know how I got here, rain flowing and flooding on desert soil. 
Clouds lay across the sky like weighted blanket, and puts me to sleep for an afternoon... Underneath the flowers bloom...

A wet cat snuggles uncomfortably and damp, adorable dripping love on my face and the ideas consumed and… soon departing…

A chandelier falls on a table; I turn off the power and snip the wire. An old way of occupying the dining area in a 1970s bungalow… Disappears…

With all the streaming available today, Netflix and Spotify, Youtube, and urine, I maintain the seal and hold time still. In the clearing…

I don’t know how I got here, warm coffee and tiramisu, nan and curry, 
An aroma of spice and sweets and 52 burnt candles. Eternity nearing…

Muscles extend and stress escapes out the spaces between my toes, 
And sounds like a car horn on the road in front, of people going shopping and battling baptismal rain. In pursuit of tomorrow…

I don’t know how I got here, bathing in baptism, structured by flowers. Covered in eternity surrounding me, inhabiting me... Tomorrow absent, Eternity present…

I don’t know how I got here… but here I am.

Asian food, African Rhythms, and European Immigrants; Perogies dance on a floor with fruit, Inje, and papaya salad, and we run to the washroom to dry our eyes and suffer nausea, and come out laughing.

We drink scotch, beer, and wine, and milk - shooting nerf darts and insults of affection. We laugh at age, at countries, and commit all the words of polite company deep into the desert soil, to fossilize into oil.

And the chandelier falls.