diesel bulge egoist

i work here
in the heat
and the dust
of the big
dream-hump swing shift
– 14 to 16 hours a day
under the merciless sun
like some new slave
to an old dream so
i don’t wanna hear
your grovel
gravel bullshit
about help, or light
or the TIME
or the SPACE.
just suck it up, off
the dust
and the litter
and the ballet
being fought out
on the streets
and in the alleys between
the garbage bins
the lives shot
through the fucking head
make it
make it bleed
put the work in
and it will come flowing out
from your veins
in thick black blood
like the diesel oil flowing
thru mine.

~ j. fisher

j works and lives in the downtown core. his recent works have appeared in Inscribed, Germany’s Blue Print Review and Victoria’s Street Newz.

“you always get the best fuel when you’re working with a gun to your head, the lights about to go out, no scratch for rent, no beer, no home, no hope. diamonds are made this way. so ‘home,’ i dunno, cold beer, warm water, words on the shelf and flesh at the ready.

Editor’s note: This poem is from Home and Away – a sequel to the bestselling Writing the Land (2007). Look for one poet to be featured each day as Alberta poets ponder the question “what is home?” and explore our complex relationship with working on, living with, exploiting and protecting our land and our home. For more information about the project, click here.

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