A creative response to Connection by Brad Phillips
In 1977 everything was wicker. In my hippy aunt’s home, wicker rocking chair, wicker couch, wicker bed wicker balcony. In Supernatural British Columbia, canoes from trees older than God ferried the enemy in, and the vanquished out. A boat is a shape like a shoe; a coffin, a shape like a shoe. All built things are conveyances, All that conveys transports. To be transported is to descend, or to ascend, or to skate, laterally, across space and time. From my hippy aunt to the wet, cottony fog of the rainforest, shapes to hold and shapes to be held by.