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
the same soil that buries our lives
A tartaruga escapa da faca afilada
because she can only avoid so long
Thread The thread was a rope, stretching to the moon, to my dark daughter on that distant shore. Cats, rents, and jobs, insurance, eyelashes, cars. Was I any closer to helping, for all that? Was I any safer from loneliness, […]
What I was missing here All night it snowed love turned white I trampled love underfoot The forest mews tiny scraps of light sway in the trees Love covers the wound the wanting, the marks on the soul We sing […]
Ready For what can’t be known mind and body write poetry, freedom of movement, favourite food, sacrifice. Lead me through lingering rain claps, sun showers. Lead me: by hand, with your voice, by signs if pained through what remains – […]
Blár Cerulean, stamen-like brushstrokes wet on wet blending the colours create three shades of blue not to paint anything ugly or dark uggely, uglike, from Old Norse uggligr a love song within the frame using a palette knife to anchor […]
Knocking the Next We rise to shining life, then turn—— lungs to earth, liver to river, kidneys to constellations; heart of the recent being knocking the next. I am for the dark wood, for the slick, invincible mountain. I am […]
Another word for obstruct The word Yemen is a lemon, in government mouths while the poor covet a vaccine for covid-19. Hospitals strafed silent prisons broken into. I blurt out, war is always public murder, but they won’t let you […]
Walls You tell me you are not like me. Nor am I like you, but obliterating my thoughts, my feelings, my senses was not yours to do. It was my place as well as yours and if I chose not […]
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 […]
AT THE END OF THE YARD Because after much meandering I’ve determined the world is that new bicycle, its chrome menace: Tour de France, Giro d’Italia, that hill. And because we laid out the table in the garden, […]
There Was a Wind There was a wind blowing outside, a dog barking, flashing headlights. When your stomach turned black in your RV, you finally got scared. You decided the time had come to softly drift. All you needed […]
Concertina Think of all the times you haven’t been thwarted by your teeth and tongue, your clavicle and ulnas, femurs and gut. Body says, This one’s on me. Brain says, What’s remembered lives; It’s alright not […]
POEM OF THE UNFINISHED SANDWICH Tomato slice, white baladi cheese, rye, a bite taken from one end, crumbs. An ant trudges her burden across the blue countertop. Ah, if only you’d listened! Ah, yes, if only […]
Green String Beans Long thin beans on slender stems, fresh, smooth velvet carefully picked, weighed, lifted. Carried them as she did the signs of fading youth. Softened each one gently from ends, Prepared, diced into tiny circles, pearls in […]
And you’d ask: Why do you write about fetuses and swallows, “Ciuri, Ciuri”? Flowers, Flowers.
Social feeds serve bodies, bludgeoned and lynched.
A girl could fall 40 years through time