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    HOMES
    HOMES
    HOMES
    Ebook109 pages50 minutes

    HOMES

    By Moheb Soliman

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Huron, Ontario, Michigan, Erie, Superior: HOMES. Moheb Soliman traces the coast of the Great Lakes with postmodern poems, exploring the natural world, the experience of belonging, and the formation of identity along borders.

    Moheb Soliman’s HOMES maps the shoreline of the Great Lakes from the rocky North Shore of Minnesota to the Thousand Islands of eastern Ontario. This poetic travelogue offers an intimate perspective on an immigrant experience as Soliman drives his Corolla past exquisite vistas and abandoned mines, through tourist towns and midwestern suburbs, seeking to inhabit an entire region as home. Against the backdrop of environmental destruction and a history of colonial oppression, the vitality of Soliman’s language brings a bold ecopoetic lens to bear on the relationship between transience and belonging in the world’s largest, most porous borderland.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCoffee House Press
    Release dateJun 8, 2021
    ISBN9781566897495
    HOMES

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      Book preview

      HOMES - Moheb Soliman

      HOMES

      From jots at probably Tommy Thompson

      Park, Toronto when this all started

      Concrete rubble to Lake Ontariowear me down to my girdersthe lake the half-naked lakeslipping off its jerseystarted in with its cats’ tongue

      At Point Pelee—Leamington,

      Sandusky—Cedar Point

      This beach has more than two sidesmore than the lakeand the parking lot and cultivated and sandwiches farms and kioskedaside itand defies propertiesI’ve peedbehind every sorta florascared away all kinda faunaI crossed the linesof r&rto bridge the banks of main and head streets and watersI tried myselfhad myselfwashed ashore to hamletsfaceupthe whole timemy figurea petty viaduct only shallow beach could loveI swam each day I changedmyself inside the Corollaand diasporaedfootfulls of mollusky sand all over the motel districts of Canuck Sanduskyswhere in touch morewithnature’s whattheyare morethanamusementornationalparkandlark Cedar Point and thetipthis land does not come totwostatesmeans endsnationsand defies commodityrecreation’s and conservation’s this placehasmorethantheall-nightorprimitive drive-thru and the campingthis whole time my body held in feetof surfnot diverting to the wateror exiting but bridges fail all the time nothing newbridges are being built and rebuilt all over these lakesadding sides tono enddefying the accounts of travelershoming inpointing outwe came in off the water not really having beenout thereyou come out of the water turn right around get back in thereI’m going out to the waternever really having left there

      Pull-off, Indiana’s tiny coast

      Sand mowed out in rowsdog lapping lake at Indianaandthecity already gamethe morning hazein its courtwhat moveslakegulls and the day before last’s news park and ride park and ridethe little lot and water quiet and untidythe sun checks off oldSears Tower like a pupil high in bright black glassesup insideyou’d see itthis breezy pull-off and put Michigan in the picture at the same off-balance instantlooking out with a cloud’s countenanceskimming the lake and havinghorizontigo the periphery can be so capacious when you trace itnever even seeing the living-in-the-Loop lake rise go to work on its ownthree legssouth of itselfcombing the beach for example or tempering the Wabash Avenue runoffwith the glacial’sgroomingcitylifetonature’s this is theheightof diversityeven always seeingthelake through theslobber

      Sun down on two ore docks Two Harbors

      Casting myself in the manbraggingtofriendorfamilybrag to me motorboats coming in out the baited fog like names returning to relatives sunset catches in their stern talkthe lake a smolderingrechallwith one colossal rusted pickup of an ore dock towed besidea fish this big says dada wallop like thispunches unclebragto me no cooler a dusk sinceI can’t rememberpullingthetruckup reeling the boat inso I let the dang fish go

      I would marry youfamilyjustto beable to brag to Mrs. sinking the sunset between the dishesand stacking them next to the taconite ships passing the windowsill on taco night with smoked fishboy dries the plasticware collects all the agates seen through the screen door the Two Harbors skylineof sun down on two ore docks

      Wherewelingeredtilldarknot a ship to tare between the two of us just a ride to shareone footdriveninto the lakeanother pensive as a passengerandthelasttwoasleep under themselves like childrenthe tourist and work vista of Lake Superior remember that livelihood foreveracatchthisluckyhugs Courtney bragtomebragtomehoneybabyRobby

      Fumbled first swim after

      missing chances w/Erie

      Lake St. Clair was a peacock, I was the pea, plump and fairin the wild the male are beautifuland bare their throats like candle threads and coo to the cooped-up who swoon and wet theirmatchesassoonastheyset eyes on the wild

      I was a pea and the lake was the peacockturquoiseeyesflush with my chest and mmmmmwwwmwahpecking my shoulders in deep and shining candor and armorI lost myselfmy clothes I wet myselfI came I swimmingI carried my body in like a bikeIchangedmyself in the waterpaisleyed in the whorlstell me what we do I begged

      There between the burbs of Detroit and Windsor I was in the company of aqua lified city buoyant Lake St. Clair and laidintiedbywaterarms and counted tentoeson my back driftedlikeaglassforkwith three hipsagainst the breaks of each mouthpiecemy first time I wanted to be sensationalin nature male is beautiful

      Lake St. Clair was a peacocknot feminized or conqueredbut iridescent and masculineI was a babe in comparisonmuscles floatersfear smell in the windwe mooned hotshot Ontario flicked off the thumb of Michigan and fairly well off on the horizonheardtomorrow’s rooster Huron

      National woods inland stay

      We delayed too long with the Mackinacfudgegirlsstandandthen everywhere was booked or tons of moneyBut the national forest was open landfree,protecting itself

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