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Young Music
Before spring, near Grimsby, ditches run clean like trout streams,
Our vines are gray. They will be pink next, like flushed, excited skin.  
In March there is the flatness that is a big part of trouble.
Anthony's sisters are helping him scrub his apartment.

He was sick all winter. They raise his laughter like neighbours raise a burned out barn.
He had made a good start. The therapy.
He says now, "I wasn't so much sick as sad all the time."
The pills ended the depression. You can wish that life was never mechanical.

Smell of hot vinegar in the coffee-maker, smells of pine oil and beer.
Brock University jackets, damp curly hair, his sisters
Wiping their hands on sweatshirts, the open window,
His bedroom. Anthony clears books from the sills and cleans and shines the windows.
There are wicker baskets for their picnic and for his laundry.

I always wanted to know, what is consecration?
(Here is a scrap of his poetry:
"... ******* the colour of a driftwood campfire.")
His sisters laugh to think of a girl in the apartment.
The ***** clothes are gone. He's got clean denims and hiking boots.

Laughter, beer and young music,
Bread and stew and pickles and heavy  brown two liter bottles of beer
On the white wooden kitchen table where he hopes to write.
His father's pickup truck is in the yard, its bed full of garbage.

With cleaning any good thing can happen. The sisters feel it too.
I didn't know what consecration meant. They joked
That he could have a girl up there when they were done.

                                  Paul  Anthony Hutchinson
Brook Trout Press
Grimsby and Toronto, Ontario,  Canada
Consecration means a girl in the apartment...
I committed to be one for whom
The work and food and bed were blessed
Until they were.

Say the grace you can pray for and get:

Ask for courage and character.
Ask for a sign:

I saw your short nightgown, green as a mallard’s head.
I saw the sign of the shining bed.

I had doubt bad
Until one lay down.

Paul Anthony Hutchinson

Brook Trout Press
This was The Clue of the Snake in the Hollow Book.
It’s only a vignette...the one where aggressive, friendly
Middle aged men walk Larissa to her car. She is calmer.
She likes to hear us talk about farming and carpentry.

Her first love is ruined for her by beatings.
Glenn and I were her guards in spring and summer
Before and after work through P&G factory parking in Hamilton.
What does this mean now: Larissa? For us,
A thrill: young, smart, loving, flushed and excited; with
The exhaustion of giving more than she had.

It meant beauty and living with a beautiful boy:
She loved his fierce flatness and fiery boredom.
Night classes at McMaster University
She asks another student to walk her to her car.
She says, “Before this happened I was headed for medical school.”

Paul Anthony Hutchinson
Copyright Paul Anthony Hutchinson
The Clue of the Shining Farm
You go to a party and hear Ludovic’s trees
And his stream in the night like The Trout Stream.
Take inside the long pine barnboard table: new bread, roast chickens, a goose.
Just rip them apart, they’re jammed with apples and sugar-tasting brown onions. Drink Beer, drink Beamsville, his Baco Noir that tastes like jam and barnyard dirt.
Crops his neighbours dig or pick are cooked in fire or just scrubbed under the tap and laid on planks on sawhorses. New speckled eggs from cages behind the garage:
His bonfire is a hundred thousand years old.
The bonfire where older faces glow like blush and blood. The nuzzling Belgian horse, The Labrador as good as the best you ever...
Home of Ludovic the life-loving,
Whom you know to have outlived fatal humiliation and fatal defeat.
A shining friend from a brutal family,
Exciting when he has exciting plans,
Repetition, repetition, repetition, when you are not looking. Two women left him. It is a secret...
If you were there with your sweetheart she’d be pretty excited
To be with you, she’d be happy with artists and writers and poets... Ludwig: not a genius; a powerful and important almoner.
Paul Anthony Hutchinson
If you are an artist you love the people who make the events, the proving hours.
The nights

It feels so good to think and read,

It feels so good to work and sleep.

You are lucky to be loved as a girl loves a horse.

You are the ribbons in the mane of her love of life.

Days with her will wash your face.

Her words and love are the strategies of

One who was a thoughtful child.

You were troubled, flat and eager..

It feels so good to work and sleep.

Paul Anthony Hutchinson
copyright Paul Anthony Hutchinson
I borrowed an archetype: one
I could not have loved without,

Not Joan of Arc on fire, another
Miracle imagined girl,
In my mind when I was born.
Red cheeks and red nose, like an apple cheeked doll:
Lots of alcohol.
The Kind Little Girl,

Paul Anthony Hutchinson
Dec 13, 2013

​Laurel promises if you pay child support

None of your money will go for sick horses.

​I don’t care what you think or feel about guns.

​I laugh at everything you believe

​And I won’t tell you if it’s true that your son Malcolm shot my 12 gauge double

​Or if I gave his mom the .410

For a house gun.

Paul Anthony Hutchinson
copyright Paul Anthony Hutchinson

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