Contributors
Louise Carson
swimming in words is it any wonder that when I surface and speak I sometimes say the wrong thing
At 54 poems and less than 80 pages of text, you might be forgiven for assuming that Peter Taylor’s latest collection of poetry will be a fast read. You would be wrong.
In Farzana Doctor’s first poetry collection, each part contains a different exercise followed by a haiku response.
I read Wendell Berry’s The Farm on a rainy afternoon in late July. It took me fifteen minutes, and I enjoyed it. Then I began to think back to the first time I heard about and read other work […]
experimental poetry communicates changing times while remaining timeless
Mitochondrial Eve A plague of poppies: salmon, tomato, apricot. Some years I save the seeds, audible in upright cups, and carry them, carefully, to make two lemon cakes, eat all those flowers. Flowers that are as famous as […]
Chronic Fatigue System Too tired to exercise (who gets mono in their 50s?), endorphins droop and symptoms of menopause return, drench night’s sheets. And the bones, breaking down, what that other poet said, ‘the leaking’ or ‘letting in of […]
Canadian poetry The birds are quiet here. They do not shout or bang about the window openings. They are discreet and twitter from a distance screened by shrub and fence, minding their business. Perfume All my life, […]
Communion Ambiguity adds another layer. Slice into a fresh made day. Take. Eat. You know who you are. Three are forward, sterile. Fourth perspective shows a liquid light. Take it. Drink it. Let it fill you. Admit […]
Wood ashes I growl in the back of my throat. There will always be ashes waiting to be carried out. Cold, burnt out, the opposite of harmful. Composition of ash: animal to vegetable to mineral soul. […]
Partial submission I thought of mailing you a paper-clip then thought again for surely you must have some in a similar small green tray or palm-sized round jar (on its lid a scene of camels, desert, sun) or in a […]
32nd Ave., Lachine Now night, and off the curving yellow arches, the light, usually so harsh, glows dull in summer's haze. Moths leave it alone, cavort with brighter street lights. Cars move slowly, their noise softened. Songs drift by […]
