Driving hours down highway, we pass a houseboat docked on a small rise of earth, some twenty miles from the closest body of water. A dream of ocean, between blacktop and tree-line, tied to a hydro pole. What would happen if the houseboat unmoored? Perhaps nothing, perhaps everything. Perhaps the entire illusion of what the anchor holds floating away into unrecoverable distances.
I prefer the theory that time is a single point, as opposed to a linear trajectory. Every moment ever happened or will sharing this, from the War of 1812 to the moon landing to the chaos in Egypt to the birth of my grandfather to the creation of Stonehenge to my fingers brushing up against your face the first time.
Bio: rob mclennan lives in Ottawa. He is the author of twenty books (poetry, fiction, non-fiction) winner of the John Newlove Poetry Award in 2010, longlisted for the CBC Poetry Prize in 2012. Recent titles: Songs for little sleep, (Obvious Epiphanies, 2012), Grief Notes: (BlazeVOX [books], 2012), Missing Persons (2009). He is the editor and publisher of Chaudiere Books, The Garneau Review, Seventeen Seconds: a journal of poetry and poetics, and the annual Ottawater. During 2007-8 he was a writer-in-residence at the University of Alberta. He frequently post reviews, essays, interviews and more at robmclennan.blogspot.com