A selection of 3 poems by Alex Rake

Fiction, Fresh

the skull of my life

you are a suture on the skull of my life
connecting its face to its head.

when im dead
come see it.

or am i dead already
awaiting the excavation?

(you know i only write this so you read it

will some hamlet
hold it as example —

will it be thrown into catacombs
for touring cameras —

will its smile be recognized by experts at last

and its form credited
where credit is due?




i am a rainbow.
people wanna see me
like im something special
but im ashamed to admit
im a trick of the light.

i am seven layers of nothing
hung inside your sky
which is nothing
between the ground
and great nothing of space.

if i am beautiful
then so is the void.
gaze there awhile
then tell me you love me.
gaze there awhile
then return to me with disappointed eyes
begging me to cleanse them.

cant, i will say.
sorry, i will say.
im just here to inform you
you missed it.
you missed the rain.



fraser valley mountains of cloud

surrounded by mountains
mountains of an ancient unclaimable power
mountains wet with snow and hot with real estate
mountains i dont care to climb
mountains i cant climb
mountains of cloud

mountains of culture wow look at me
mountains of samosa and sushi
mountains making grown men drool
mountains of appetite forming in their trousers
mountains of trousers that need replacing
so hop in the truck lets go to the store
mountains of totalled trucks that fishtailed on the oilslick
of drool in their racist roadrage on the way to the store
mountains of convolusion smoking in their wreckage
mountains of cloud

mountains of fast food and slow food and no inbetween
mountains of perfectly good food going rotten
in locked dumpsters
mountains of negative space in mountains of stomachs
beside mountains of these dumpsters
mountains of complaints about where the hungry sleep
and how dare they not have a home
mountains of empty homes around why dont they buy some
mountains of good ideas tell me more
mountains of meaningless vapor steaming
from mouth to mouth
mountains of cloud

mountains of crafts praised as art
mountains of art praised as kindling
mountains of pseudo-religious well-meaning
mothers of bigots telling me what art is
mountains of silent fuck yous echoing ashamedly
in my skull
mountains of fear felt as righteousness
mountains of young little-L liberals who criticize all fear and
oh my god am i one of them
mountains of i love you mom i love you dad
but i think i need to become myself
mountains of marijuana take the edge off
mountains of vision bring it back
all only mountains of cloud

mountains of hoarded trading cards
mountains of laughter for sale unused
mountains of lives not crossing paths
mountains of books not being read
mountains of religious pamphlets clogging mountains of
toilets flooding mountains of churches ruining mountains
of fancy sunday shoes inciting mountains of goddammits
from mountains of outwardly pious souls
mountains untouched acting as majestic
inescapable shroud that floats like a hissing canadian
goose on the air
mountains on mountains on mountains of cloud

been here so long i forget that theyre there


Photo by: Adrian Kingsley-Hughes