Zippers
We zipper in zipper out divide bisect rule in rule out borders and stanchions the moats and railings of the human heart Restrict forbid segment we rope off even the water the mare liberum with its scars of jurisdictional seas and laneways Eintritt verboten we float above the hash marks seeking friendly skies and a place to take us in Bollards and hedgerows blockades and barriers we’ve mastered the art of walls blistered this partitioned paradise with the barbed wire of defended edges red lines and rhetoric marked our territory with the cat piss of arrogance and blinkered ambition this is mine and that is yours a planet pixelated into endless islands of fortified ownership we value more than people’s lives. I say these things to my neighbour as we lean across the garden fence respectful of the line between us the land of the other all these little lives in all these little houses all the whirring inside these microscopic weeping worlds that zipper us together yet keep us so far apart.
Call for Submissions
touched on everything that eats my sleep the way things burn the way things seep our worship of the elusive blue checkmark, the avatar shields that bleed the person out, apps for everything except the human heart, blue suited sycophants dancing on the rosy tip of annihilation, that fat red nipple tease of a button just an insult away, the careless Gatsbys and their little misses snorting coke and caviar while our planet burns and children roam the village bloated, wearing smoke for clothing in this depleted world where peace is now commoditized and sold to the knee bend bidder with the most convincing grovel. We edit the corrosion out of history now, remove the blood with our creative blotters of reinvention and will our world into what works for us, while behind the curtain the needles whisper love into tattooed arms and the one percenters back slap the victory bulge of the closing bell. Purchases are now our Gods, though Canada’s most famous stripes writhe upon the discount table. We’re click counters now, hashtag whores who measure friends by user profile, cliché cuties whacking words like weeds into mindless memes and condensations, not seeing that love with a “u” is not close to the same thing. Yeh, this call for submissions stings my chords, I guess. An eight-year-old recently told me that poetry is the simple act of writing down what you care about. I suppose that’s what I’ve done here: darkened the page with the bruises and truths I wish I saw no reason to write.
BIO:
David Stones is a poet and performer with some 600 poems in print throughout Canada and internationally, and 30+ poetry awards to his credit. Major collections include Infinite Sequels, sfumato, and Essays of Light. With poetry acclaimed for its expressive and lyrical quality, David is celebrated for the evocative and powerful performance of his work. Stage shows featuring David’s poetry and musical adaptations of his poems include WordSong, Essays of Light, Expressions of Love, Precipice ‘61, and Infinite Sequels (“brilliant and beautiful theatre” - London Free Press). David is also a very active community poetry builder, with poetry workshops, open mic hosting, poetry programs in schools and retirement residences, anthology editing and compilation, and poetry-based special events planning and execution all key aspects of his resume. David is a proud member of The League of Canadian Poets, New Generation Beat Poets Canada, Poetry Stratford, and a Honourary Lifetime Member of The Ontario Poetry Society. David lives and creates in Stratford, Ontario, where he is honoured to be appointed Stratford’s first-ever Poet Laureate for the 2025 - 2028 term.
