PICTURES OF THE DEAD (from “Dark Halo”)
The dead leave us only images of themselves:
souvenirs in washed out colours, dried petals
pressed in family albums, shadows that stain
our papered walls. They abandon us in our rooms,
teach us how to converse with dust, will not
let us forget them. But in our glistening
reeds of dreams we try to free ourselves
from their tangled reflections,
the memory of their once green, once brighter air.
They are shivering inside us now,
not as noisy leaves shaken by the wind
but as thin yellow shoots, muffled, insistent,
the ceaseless splash of wings
closing in on us in moonlight,
the small white feather
we find in our hands.
Just heard the sad news that well-known Saskatchewan poet, Mick Burrs, has passed away.
I’m not sure why but Mick was somebody I always felt a genuine affection for and who seemed to regularly pass in and out of my life, perhaps more than any other writer I knew – whether I was in Saskatchewan, Alberta or Ontario.
I first became aware of Mick’s writing in the early 1990’s.
I was working my way through college as a door-to-door salesman for a cable TV company in towns around rural Saskatchewan during the summer. The company was based in Yorkton (I didn’t know it of course but this is where Mick lived at the time) so one of my coworkers often invited me to drive up Sunday night and stay with his family. This meant I didn’t have to leave home at first light on Monday morning just to get to work for 8am. (And in the most 2020 tangent I can add at this point, I’ll mention that coworker’s sister nearly died from Covid last December.)
In the family’s guest room, they had a loaded bookshelf including Mick’s book “Dark Halo” which was one that I gravitated to repeatedly, first because of its eye-catching cover and then after flipping through, some pretty good poetry and also some pretty provocative titles (“Hitler’s Favourite Movie”).
(Guilty admission – though I have an English degree and spent nearly a decade in the Canadian book industry, I was never a regular reader of poetry. What’s the line I heard a writer say once? “The only people who read poetry are other poets” and there’s probably some truth to that. But after that early exposure, Mick’s work was some that I always made a point of paying attention to.)
Anyhow, after graduating with that shiny English degree, I found work with the Sask Publishers Group and I don’t remember meeting Mick for the first time as some life-changing moment or anything like that. But I do remember running into him at various times – when he’d pop into the office the SPG shared with the Sask Writers Guild or at the SWG conference or at the Sask Book Awards (where he won Poetry Award in 1998 for his book, “Variations on the Birth of Jacob”) and always appreciating our conversations for his obvious intelligence and insights about the world.
Mick lived the life of the stereotypical impoverished artist and is well-remembered for selling his poetry chapbooks at the Regina Farmer’s Market as “a unique form of Saskatchewan produce.”
When I moved to Calgary and ended up working for the Writers Guild of Alberta, one highlight was being able to invite a trio of Saskatchewan poets – Gary Hyland, Bruce Rice and Mick – to be readers at the Poet’s Corner stage at Word on the Street in 2002 or 2003.
The two others booked a hotel but Mick, ever the impoverished artist, ended up crashing on the couch at Shea’s and my condo (and important to note that in most of the inscriptions in this blog post, he regularly included Shea – a small but telling detail about his thoughtfulness.)
After that, our paths crossed less often but when I went to library school in London, ON in 2006, I somehow found out that Mick had also moved to Toronto. We were even able to connect at the Canadian Book Expo (which is where the photo above was taken) and I have a memory that I was an impoverished student but still bought Mick’s latest chapbook and picked up his lunch since (I hoped) my impoverishment would be temporary until I was done my MLIS but I knew Mick had chosen to live an impoverished life – at least in terms of income and material things.
(One other memory from that visit is that he said he never thought he’d leave Saskatchewan but that he’s moved to Ontario for love and I thought that was just a beautiful thing to hear and made me very happy for him.)
That encounter was the last time I saw him.
So it’s a weird mix of feelings to hear that Mick has passed away. There are dozens and possibly hundreds of people in the writing community across Canada who knew him better than I did it. But for some reason, I always felt an affinity for Mick – for his purity of soul and his commitment to his craft and his gentleness (he came to Canada to avoid the Vietnam War and we are a better country for it.)
Thinking about how to write this post, I went to my own bookshelf and pulled a few of the books of his that he’s inscribed for me over the years. I have scattered pictures of them through this post but my absolute favourite is one I’d completely forgotten about – Mick’s early book, “The Blue Pools of Paradise” had been weeded from the Regina Public Library collection so long before I worked at RPL, I ended up with a copy (not sure if I bought it at an RPL book sale or if Mick gave it to me or what) but at any rate, his inscription is hilarious and he was clearly a bit miffed that a library would ever withdraw a poetry book! 🙂
Speaking of RPL, this is a clip from a documentary about Mick which allows you to hear his voice and get a sense of who he was (including him leading a writing workshop *at* RPL and some prescient comments about how D-E-A-T-H might be the only thing to stop him writing…or maybe not!)
WHO WE ARE (from “Dark Halo”)
we are walking bundles
of electronic impulses
the light in each other’s eyeswe are warm hearts
in cold ribcages
each body
a portable prison
until we touch one another
conspiring to escapewe are God’s fingertips
stroking the dark universe
MICK BURRS (1940 – 2021)
It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of Mick Burrs, known by his literary name, Steven Michael Berzensky, renowned award-winning Canadian poet. Beloved son of the late Shirley Burrs (nee Levi) and the late Albert Burrs, he will be greatly missed by his dear friends and colleagues, Kent Bowman and Sharon Singer.
Los Angeles born, Mick Burrs was one of Canada’s finest poets, winning both the Saskatchewan Poetry Award in 1983, and the Saskatchewan Book Award for Poetry in 1998. With seven published books of poetry, over 30 chapbooks, and 800 poems in various literary journals, Mick was a former editor of Grain, the prestigious prairie literary magazine.
A voracious reader “poor in everything except books” Mick’s countless tomes were filled with marginalia—ideas sparked by what he read. Mick’s breadth of knowledge was only outshone by his great compassion for people and for the natural world.
In 2001, Coteau Books published The Names Leave the Stones: Poems New and Selected, which achieved great acclaim. Previous publications include Variations on the Birth of Jacob (The Muses’ Company, 1997), Blue Pools of Paradise (Coteau Books, 1983), Dark Halo (Coteau Books, 1993) and Moving in from Paradise (Coteau Books, 1996)
Mick and Ted Plantos recorded the 2001 CD, East Meets West. After moving to Toronto, Mick collaborated with Allan Briesmaster in creating and editing the anthology Crossing Lines: Poets who came to Canada in the Vietnam Era (Seraphim Editions, 2008).
In addition to his many published works and radio plays, Mick played guitar and sang his songs for the CD Gold Rays, accompanied by concert violinist Rob Penner. Mick’s poem Quilled Sonnet was set to music by James Wright and sung by Ottawa soprano Doreen Taylor-Claxton, for the much-lauded CD Hail, Canadian Art Song. Other songs that Mick wrote include: I Have Been to War and Vancouver Rain on SEQUOYA, a folk music odyssey and memorial to Hugh Mullin.
Regina filmmaker Steve Wolfson produced the hour-long documentary about Mick’s life and work: Real Live Poet, excerpted here: http://bit.ly/2QUN7v6
Poet, songwriter, editor, beloved teacher, and mentor to many Canadian poets, Mick’s loss will be greatly felt in the Canadian arts community, and his body of excellent work will long be remembered and cherished by all those artists who labour in the service of creating truth and beauty.
A Celebration of Life will take place in the future, after Covid.
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