Autobiography

Without design, the future shrugged. / I hoped I might find myself over there and not / be disappointed.

A photograph of the poet, a man with his chin in his hand and looking toward the right of the frame, against a periwinkle-blue background.
The Walrus

Jobless on the half-rotten porch, pulpit

to a sunken trans-Vancouver bike path a minute’s

whir from East Hastings. Jaded, couch-

surfing castaway, I thought

youth the best refusal and the great hope.

Jeff obsessed over how a spider gets its web

across the considerable distance between rail post

and magnolia. He asked me. I said dunno and went

to the library. Without design, the future shrugged.

I hoped I might find myself over there and not

be disappointed. Identity’s alarm. Mere puzzles

I juggled as I passed the grim ranks of homeless.

And learned the strand from a spider’s spinneret dangles

on the breeze until it sticks to something solid.

David O'Meara
David O’Meara has written numerous poetry collections, as well as the play Disaster.

New Year, New Stories

Hello and Happy 2023!
As we start this new year, we need you now more than ever. In these uncertain times, it is crucial that reliable media remains available to everyone. That is why we depend on your support to keep our journalism accessible and independent. From the economy to political polarization, the challenges our society is facing this year are too important for half truths. At The Walrus, the future of journalism is funded by engaged citizens like you. Together, we can preserve the integrity of Canadian media and ensure that our democracy thrives. Will you join us?
With thanks,
Jennifer Hollett
Executive Director
Jenn