Kristopher William Locke is a poet and artist born, raised and situated in the Canadian prairies with experience in various mediums including radio, print, web and stage. Readers are invited to join him on the peaks and valleys that exist within, and despite, the flat prairie landscape of his homeland. The result is part of his shared collection of internal essays.

Hello L’Hiver

There is part
of me, that you have
complete supremacy. We
just unknown authors, half
asleep, in a some
known city.

Oui.
Non.
Vrai ou Faux.

A smattering of
sentimentality [plus] joviality
[minus] hostility [times]
insecurity [divided]
by pity. Equals sum
of you, equals some
of me. (Equals a so what
attempt at somewhat
witty, a smattering
of words pressed up
against the backs of
sticky teeth.)

Summoning my inner
boo boo Yogi Berra, yr
best Pettibon meets
a shared recollected Fred
Penner. The pens hit
the paper before the plates dare
catch the dinner, summoning
your outer boo hoo runny
mascara. Shaking heads
yes vs trembling heads
no, caution light yellows
fending off the green
light go’s, as coughing fellows
ward off old lungs full
of old smoke.

Bring out the baby
beets, bring on the blood
burgundy, swatches
of Ghost White, figurines
in Deep Peach, archways
in Old Gold, tremors
in Rifle Green.

We
Saints
Sinners
Pontificons
Provocateurs
Oui Oui!
Tombs Couture!

So hello
l’hiver,
I see you
there. Us
again, rebelling
gently pushing
against, your
authority.