Christopher Hansard[ Rhapsody]

In search of a rhapsody

there are saxophones in the old growth

of Clayoquat

on Meares Island

sing a thousand voices

that taught Gershwin

about how to feel

the pain of migrancy

in the blue lipped maidens

of the inside passage

there comes

a rush of ginger tasting

strings, violas and violins

caught up in maple syrup

and wisdom

balanced by a

refrain

that only

a rhapsody

makes sense of

there are

saxophones on the prowl

in the far north of british Columbia

and the bison of Alberta

are double bass bassoon lovers

in search of a vegetarian barbecue

rhapsody on the channel

where the white pelican and his star maiden

go across the divide

far stronger that that which can divide

on that swell

I have seen the rhapsody

of orcas, yellow cedar

and the unseen

smoke gets in your eyes

and rhapsody breathes

you in

birches came from Ontario

cedar comes from the red road

and I have trod the red road

playing the flute in ancient times

to the peoples of the red land

rhapsody

is what feeds the

thunderbird

flying north by northwest

where you reveal the ancient cartography

modern coachroaches come out

scuttling

to try and rearrange

the map

the ancient world bides its time

waiting for the ancient voice

to be born in

a modern tongue

spread your breath

upon the ocean

it shall be a lake

all the world

loves

a

rhapsody