Hope Is Something in Toronto

poem by Lorne Foster



Hope is something in Toronto

A polyglot fare of fool and flesh

A precocious discourse on assorted delights

That we eat everyday and dream at night


In Toronto we dream to dine on the world

And we dine on the dream

Of a worldly time

Of dreams more flesh than fool


In Toronto we devour enchantment

With constellations of difference

And hope to savour

The lush imagination of mosaic bodies


In Toronto we are linked by a dream

Of the city of hope

And we hope to dream 

Beyond the bloodless body politic of belonging


Hope is truly somethin’ in Toronto

Like a laughing fat Buddha

Living T-Dot large with Hog-town memories in the 6ix

Against the rude refuge of a wanton world


In Toronto the pale body says the dream's a dewy mess

And by nature sad …

But the dream’s steely resolve

Is all that we have


While the dark body says hold fast to your dreams

And let them not die …

But dreams are not real

And hope is all they apply


And the she body says hope is a thing with feathers

Perched in the soul …

But hope is the breakfast of champions in Toronto

Where we dream the dream of time and rainbow spice bold


In Toronto we feel the quaking tremors of soul-less truth

As we walk the terrain of the global soul

Where hope is weighted

By an infinite appetite for dreaming.