Madam Speaker, I am going to talk about something very serious, that is, poetry. I would like my colleagues to listen. It is not that often that we talk about poetry in the House. I am not sure we ever have. It is important that members listen.
I apologize in advance, because David Goudreault is also an extraordinary performer. When he reads his own poetry, when he speaks his own words, it is utterly amazing and fascinating. I encourage my colleagues to go see one of his shows. Still, I will read this piece, because it is worth it.I call for poetry
A deep breath held in, underworld apnea
For all the teachers that won't skip a chapter
Hands sunk and guts poured into the subject matter
A light that can express itself freely
In free verse, spoken work, sonnets or haikus
“O Captain! My Captain!”
Loot the coffers and bring us poems
Enough to fill every school
Starting in first grade: Jean Narrache for today's dictation
Football players forced to read Marie Uguay
Heads of the class can tackle Vanier
Between math class and phys-ed
Let's give them credits for each moment of quiet
Where speech can grow, all crooked and alive
I call for poetry
In back alleys and on farm roads
Let's have every streetworker pacing the void
Whisper Roland Giguère in misery's ear
Let's have poets in residence
In every residence for senior citizens
Let's pair every illiterate with a poet
And pay them to reconquer the words
They can paint huge signs in front of psych wards, “Amazing specials inside!”
In front of l'Assemblée nationale, “Don't feed the wild ideals”
On library stone walls, “Welcome to the Art Therapy Community Centre”
I call for poetry
Let's have every SAQ cashier recite “La romance du vin”
With every purchase of over 20 bucks
Let's replace the Hockey Night theme with a poem by Pozier
Let's ask Anonymous to do their thing
So only works by Josée Yvon can be bought on Amazon
Let's canonize Yves Boisvert
Let's give Hélène Dorion a Nobel Prize
Let's have lines by Francoeur on rolling paper
Beausoleil on boarding passes
Desbiens on Trans Canada bus tickets
Daoust on tinted glasses that cover the eyes
And the yous and the theys
I call for poetry
From Miron's country, yet to be chosen and invented
To the occupied lands of the last First Nations
There's more than Ani Couni, you know
Why not teach Joséphine Bacon
Jean Sioui and Rita Mestokosho
Let their voices be heard, Yawinda
From Mohawk lands to Ivujivik, Nakurmik
I call for poetry
In Chloé Sainte‑Marie's mouth-shaped heart
Go ahead and give her a doctorate honoris causa
So she can pawn it for a tiny fraction of her selflessness' worth
And by the way, Montreal City, where the fuck is your Leonard Cohen Street?