Spit litters Pitt Lake’s syllables. A space of work and wordmongers, of word lore and work ethic. Here, I work the oracle, work word of mouth into passages. Here, I eat my way through lake and bloat the colours left in after devour.
Lake spit litters syllables pitt. Pitt titters towards a room. A room that silts at low tide. A room that stilts the lake’s posture: of one thick forearm, clenched and severe. Each tendon burrows towards the fisted palm which holds nothing but the chill of pause.
Lake syllables. Pitt spit litters. This is a space of frayed marionette twine and drifters clotting between booms. This is a space where furniture is left to the cavernous outside and naps faucet the drool of vultures. This is a space where “direction” welts under lurching fiords, where you try for “center” and your esophagus grunts till swallow.
Syllables spit pitt: litters lake. Somewhere my pen echoes in gorge – pins species in wriggle and flail. This crumpled audio globs the valley. All song: storms trundle. All voice: strains diesel in low water, my twin-engine tonsils careen across the page.
Jordan Scott lives in Mount Pleasant, Vancouver. Jordan’s first book of poetry, Silt (New Star Books), was nominated for the Dorothy Livesay Poetry Prize. In the fall of 2006, Jordan worked on the final sections of his second book, blert, while acting as a writer-in-residence at the International Writers’ and Translators’ Centre in Rhodes, Greece. Jordan spends the spring and summer slinging canoes at Pitt Lake, the largest freshwater tidal lake in North America.