i. addresses (bras d’or triptych) irish cove, wind cuts slate turf, curl & fall of chalk * potlotek: no can- adian flags, hang a red dress * soldiers cove: chalked sign, honey and beach- glass, sand after rain For full poem, check out our summer 2026 issue...
Cock your ear— by the earth’s rotation blessed blue persists in requiem we can’t keep our minds from take-off unhinged at the reflection unfixable sorrows and letters too long to send— recriminations bolt the door, go ahead! Unmake the bed, on difficult afternoons...
Anna’s plan is going to work. Her mother is a lopsided snail on the couch, a heap of dirty laundry unto herself, all sweats and stained Muskoka tee, empty Coors Light cans at her feet in a row, tidier than she is. Eloise sold the station wagon last year, too broke to...
(2025) When I heard Travis was out of rehab and back in town, I wanted to foxtrot right back into his life, astonish him the way Gatsby dazzled Daisy, silk shirts and gold rings. I hesitated, but not sufficiently. Maybe we’d been guided by love, but our hearts were...
I’m striding down Rainforest Drive in Ucluelet just after seven a.m., munching on an apple, listening to the crows and the robins. The sky is bright after yesterday’s drizzle. Salal, huckleberry, and horsetail—I’m giving the plant identification app on my phone a...
