When I was a boy nothing made sense
Until Marshall McLuhan.
"Poets and artists live on frontiers.
They have no feedback, only feedforward."
There were always televisions in the house
Dad always kept two in good working order
So he would never miss
Hockey Night In Canada
On Saturday night
He would have his hockey game
And he would have his beer
Mom drinking wine and making cookies
All us kids in our pyjamas
Playing on the floor
He always took a big swig
After the fucking Canadiens scored
Those fucking Canadiens
I did not understand television then
Just a bunch of Canadians skating back and forth
Beating the fucking shit out of one another
I saw better games on the frozen pond up the road
French kids kept their head up on the outdoor rink
Because they were in motherfucking Alberta
Where Marshall McLuhan is from
Until Marshall McLuhan.
"Poets and artists live on frontiers.
They have no feedback, only feedforward."
There were always televisions in the house
Dad always kept two in good working order
So he would never miss
Hockey Night In Canada
On Saturday night
He would have his hockey game
And he would have his beer
Mom drinking wine and making cookies
All us kids in our pyjamas
Playing on the floor
He always took a big swig
After the fucking Canadiens scored
Those fucking Canadiens
I did not understand television then
Just a bunch of Canadians skating back and forth
Beating the fucking shit out of one another
I saw better games on the frozen pond up the road
French kids kept their head up on the outdoor rink
Because they were in motherfucking Alberta
Where Marshall McLuhan is from
2 comments:
I'm not sure I get this poem. But I really like it.
I had not thought at all about McLuhan until quite recently. He changed the way I thought about everything more than any other intellectual. McLuhan, Ian Tyson and Mark Messier would have to be the three finest Albertans ever.
The main thing is that I broke away from the 13 line poem and stretched out a little. I had been meaning to do that for a while. Now that roller derby season is over all I have is the fucking poem.
Post a Comment