Kirk Miles
 

Dymphny Dronyk

His poems have been produced on CBC's Alberta Anthology and his poetry has been published in journals across Canada. As a playwright he has earned recognition for his work including a playwriting award from Alberta Culture for co-writing the critically acclaimed Juggler on a Drum and in June of 2009 Kirk Miles won the Writers Guild of Alberta Screenwriters Award for a screenplay entitled Shadow Maker. A book of poetry: The Last Six Minutes of Elvis, was published by Touchwood Press in 2002, and in 2009 of ash of brick of water, was published by Plan-B House. In the fall of 2007 Bravo aired a half hour special on his life as a poet, playwright and clown. His spoken word show with Ken Sinclair is call midnight yoga for alcoholics and has been seen at several festivals and events through out Alberta. A frequent participant of the Banff Leighton Artist Colony, Hotel on the Cliffs on the Heart was completed in 2011 and is under consideration by several publishers. Presently he is working hard on a manuscript of poems about the holocaust called Moving Dust.



The Small Parts that Make a Mountain

join one by one like atoms layered
on the aggregate of minerals called a
rock and on all the rocks there are small
packets of frozen water called snow,
and drifted and piled high around the
mountain among the line of the trees is a
vinery collection of trails that deer and
other woodland animals wander through
and if you crook your ears and listen like the
crow does or like the chipmunk does
you can hear the scratchy song of a snowmobile
as it whirrs around the base of the mountain
and when on occasion the snow that is heaped
like grain in a granary no longer pauses in its
moment of clenching and clinging but pulls
its temporary family down the mountain
it transforms into a fluid thing, a tidal wave
that pulls out the roots of trees and sometimes
finds eleven men riding their stallion snowmobiles
and crushes them under the tiny parts that make
the whole and even if three of the men claw their
way out of the demanding drowning white
the others do not and they fall prey to the
suffocating pressure of small pieces of the many
and then in gymnasiums and skating rinks of
small towns citizens light candles to the memory of those
perfect men on those perfect machines
and these parts of the whole gather
not unlike snowflakes and pile their grief
into a delicate but significant mountain

Birds © 2012 Calgary Spoken Word Society