The balm of Appalachia, the comfort of all the neighbours knowing my business -- how did it all go so wrong?
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Poetry
The spontaneity of painting “natural” or “ordinary” landscapes is deeply embedded in my neurons.
He was the loneliest man on earth. His words were not even listened to by anyone.
Wednesday the banks shuttered, the shop shelves went majestically bare. Not that it mattered. We were out of work, our currency not worth its paper.
May we never forget that we all belong and share the space – that is Mother Earth.
All hands on deck aflame our capsizing boat lonely sinking only planet
Phases of the moon. Again mirrors. Worlds in her.
She said she was on fire, ending the line with three little flames
A chilling reflection on the witnessing of past and current atrocities
Birds observe human disconnection from nature and quietude.
Poet-guitarist Paul Serralheiro pays respect to Montréal’s historic jazz artists.
A delicate interplay between the fragility of life and the nuanced dance of relationships
Something alive under the snow makes it shiver like it’s asking not to be shovelled, scraped, or salted.
For more on Kathryn Jordan’s writing, photography and events, or to buy her book, please visit her website.
Each body remembers the necessary distance between lovers the space & touch, here & recalled
forest berries grow by the cool rushing creek scent of irises
Passing the gatekeepers four times with the rite answers we left you there in the garden
In an Urdu poem, Iftekhar Ahmed expresses love and acceptance for his trans child, bridging cultural heritage with the language of understanding.
Montréal poet Katharine Beeman shares two poems about quantum entanglement and binaries.
in which I am no longer the centre of the universe
This is no time to overlook the gaps in the intricate web of mutually assured destruction.
Note on the poems and images Poems originally published in Swedish in Vad jag saknades här (Stockholm: Bokförlaget Lejd, 2018). English by Nicola Vulpe. Images from the series philosophy of a tree by Gazelle Bastan (2022)
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Pororoca Do you hear the lament of the deep riverwhere you played as a childlaughed when youngand in which you drown today? Playful shorestickling water lettucesexcited crabshiding in the warm sandwhere you dipped your feetfreelyyour cleaned handsoverflowingwith the fullnessof the […]
Chernobyl II Revelation 8:10-11 “… the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter.” We are the Chernobyl babushkas wearing black kerchiefs. We are the ones with radiation sickness. We are […]
