When Will I Find Myself?
No nothing gets under you. It’s about to roll past but you crane and stop it with your foot, then nest on it. It’s real life, you breathe, but can’t …
Read MoreMonth: October 2012
Peggy Baker Just Won’t Stop
The sixty-year-old performer pushes herself, and her art form, to the limit
Read MoreSelf Service
“Saving Africa” to achieve personal growth is not the way to see the world
Read MoreTo an Ideal
Finalist for the 2012 Walrus Poetry Prize I noticed you first, your birth a paranormal float on that sintered causeway of white light. As a gift moves us to tears, …
Read MorePetit-mort
Finalist for the 2012 Walrus Poetry Prize The stoat takes a last stand, and, turning white ermine as winter’s breath, would rather face its hunters than soil its fur in …
Read MoreBarnacle Goose Ballad
Winner of the 2012 Walrus Poetry Prize Readers’ Choice Award Barnacle geese enjoy Nordic palatals, stone relief fish beds and aberrant gulls. When shellfish submerge and wash up riding buoys, …
Read MoreThe Devil’s Advocate
Winner of the 2012 Walrus Poetry Prize My lords and ladies, gentlemen of the jury— when you hear hoofbeats, assume horses. Not zebras. This is true in almost all parts …
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The Buried Hatchet
poisons the soil / beside the river
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