Disclaimer: This is an attempt at an objective overview of whom to choose for Kingston Poet Laureate. Though a sometime poet, I am not a candidate, being primarily a writer of Creative Non-fiction. NOTE- EXPECTING CORRECTIONS/UPDATES This site will be CONSTANTLY UPDATED as information flows in. Some of these poets may be up for Putlizers. [...]

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 [...]

“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, [...]

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 [...]

(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, [...]

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 [...]

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 [...]