I have begun to hate these laden shelves
High-ceilinged building, aisles, altars along
the front, communicants line up, display
what we have chosen worthy, while, overhead
the litany drones on, about the virtues present
in this room, how blessed we are to have such
fulsome stuff, cossetted from weather and the streets,
enjoying special perks, convenience.
Then carefully chosen shopping hymns are played.
In war zones, [...]

I was writing when
my stomach
created the first note
and sent it to my brain.
“I am empty,” it read,
“How about that
left over pizza
with cheese and anchovies
in the fridge?’
My brain agreed,
ccing my tastebuds,
who said, ‘ummm’
and emailed my spine which,
with a sigh, unbent
and raised the skeleton, directing
the feet kitchenward.
My mind, however, remained
back in the study still
finishing the poem. Suddenly
the [...]

“Does it cohere? Is it credible?” The British poet, Michael Glover tells us to question the poem we are making in a workshop he gave on a humid Monday afternoon here in this small Canadian prison town, of Kingston, Ontario.a
With his wife, the artist, Ruth Dupre, Glover spoke about the “pure act of fabrication, made [...]

I favor sitting in the old chairs
by my front door when the guitar
and the sun is out
wind not strong enough
to pick the poppy petals,
neighbours mellow and not
panhandling. it helps to have
a hound around, lying out so flat
someone swears he’s dead but
for the twitch and snuffle.
The old stuff starts like a teapot
set to whistle; lonelies [...]

(for John)
You’ve got to admire those dead flies
Hanging from the sticky strip
In the far from model kitchen
At least they felt passion,
died in the throes of it,
disappointing spider Sunday dinner
not gone for nothing
but wild with desire
not hunted down,
life fluid sucked slowly
till just dry husk remains,
strapped to nursing home bed.
No more choice.
Decisions have sharp edges,
necessary risk. Weigh [...]

Oh Inukshuks they have no knees, no knees
Yet they do as they very well please. Oh please
They cannot ride a bike
Though Inukshuk can hike
Like the rates of Olympic park fees
Inukshuks are made out of rocks, they rock
On their flat feet you never see socks, no sock,
Sometimes they may stir
It will rarely occur
But when outraged, Inukshuk [...]

Sharp-beaked starlings dig the dirty drifts, searching for scraps. Flock
has rhythm, moving together, peek hop peck hop poke hop chitter hop
chatter, hoarde of small vacuums attacking the undersides of sofa
cushions, diving for loose change. Splayed tracks in the snow pattern
the shadows. Swing from the housevine, decorate bare branches like
temporary leaves as their birdfathers did [...]