I have seen respectable
death
served up like bread and wine
in stores and offices,
in club and hostel,
and from the streetcorner
church
that faces
two ways
I have seen death
served up
like ice.
Against this death,
slow, certain:
the body,
this burly sun,
the exhalations
of your breath,
your cheeks
rose and lovely,
and the secret
life
of the imagination
scheming freedom
from labour
and stone.
Irving Layton (1912-2006) was a renowned Canadian poet and teacher known for his bold and provocative writing style. Layton’s famous pupil, Leonard Cohen, once said this about the great poet: “I taught him how to dress, he taught me how to live forever.”
Layton's literary legacy continues to resonate in Canadian poetry. His writing, characterized by its raw emotion, social critique, and sensual language, has inspired subsequent generations of poets. Irving Layton passed away on January 4, 2006, leaving behind a rich body of work that continues to be celebrated and debated in the realm of Canadian literature.
I didn't know that Layton was Cohen's teacher, thanks for adding that.
I also love knowing about the Leonard Cohen connection.
Hard-hitting and beautifully wrought. At 81 years old, though lucid and healthy, I am at this point profoundly aware of this certain death.