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Past Issue

Cover Image: Hands (detail) by Gord Arthur
Gord Arthur is a Winnipeg photographer and bookseller. His most recent solo exhibition, Uncertain Times, was shown at Winnipeg’s Cre8ery Gallery in 2010.
Winter 2011, Volume 32, No.4
GLEN SORESTAD: Pristine and Startling
The highlight of this issue is Glen Sorestad’s 2011 Anne Szumigalski Memorial Lecture, “Pristine and Startled: Ways of Seeing.” Fiction contributors include Segun Afolabi (Kenya), Jay Brown, Alan McMonagle (Ireland) and Margaret Sweatman. Poetry is by Sylvia Legris, Aaron Giovannone and Erin Noteboom, among others.

Table of Contents

Margaret Sweatman Go with Bob
Sylvia Legris Four Poems
Segun Afolabi The Folded Leaf
Elizabeth Ross Mastiff
Glen Sorestad Pristine and Startled: Ways of Seeing
Erin Noteboom Three Poems
Jay Brown The Egyptians
Kevin Spenst straps of roots
Alan McMonagle The Storyteller and the Thief
Stephanie McKenzie Let
Sara Cassidy Breathing Room
Aaron Giovannone Two Poems
Meghan Doraty The Vivarium
Carellin Brooks Possessed
Peter Richardson Professor Jacbosen Discourses on Another Aspect of His Made up Language
Jordan Mounteer Slewiskin Creek



Glen Sorestad


Segun Afolabi
Jay Brown
Sara Cassidy
Meghan Doraty
Alan McMonagle
Margaret Sweatman


Carellin Brooks
Aaron Giovannone
Sylvia Legris
Stephanie McKenzie
Jordan Mounteer
Erin Noteboom
Peter Richardson
Elizabeth Ross
Kevin Spenst

Fiction Excerpt
Go with Bob
BY Margaret Sweatman

Dan watched his daughter Lyn in brief, shy glances. He was treading water, looking up at Lyn and Billy, Lyn’s “partner,” climb out of the lake and towel off. Water dripped from their bodies onto the greying dock, their blond footprints freshening the wood. It had been hot all week and a sticky breeze was blowing flies out of the bush, the flies going at their ankles right away.

Lyn snapped at her ankles with her towel and danced one foot to the other. She wore the wine-red bikini she’d bought somewhere in Italy last winter, travelling for a month with Billy. Lyn was beautiful and Dan was always surprised by that. He was like a pressure gauge, reading his daughter’s happiness, pounds per square inch. But he never felt he saw real happiness in Lyn. Possibly she had been a happy person before he and her mother got a divorce. There were times, Dan had memorized them, when Lyn smiled broadly and Dan saw where the lines would eventually show on her face; when she was his age she’d still be beautiful. Sometimes she’d stride around and beam at them all, offering to shake their hand. Maybe the heat was making her subdued, that and Billy’s being so relentlessly remote.

Poetry Excerpt
Ghazal beginning with lines by Anna Akhmatova
BY Erin Noteboom

You will hear thunder and remember me,
And think: she wanted storms.

Volcanic sunrise. The day falls open
like a dead rose.

Living creche: The red head dressed as Mary

The wreck of a tree is larger than a tree.
When my father fell I could not catch him.

How long can a house stand empty?
A bare elm hanging from the hook of the moon.