This is a feminist project, one which imagines new modalities for intimate cohabitation and kinship.
By Klara du Plessis
Poetry
Goodison’s lines bristle with colloquialisms and music.
By Brennan McCracken
The muse, it seems, has finally refused the conditions of its labour.
By Frances Grace Fyfe
Huh’s speaker finds love in the beloved’s idiosyncrasies.
By Frances Grace Fyfe
Could the Bard himself have come up with the amazing sonic description “snapping dirt-streaked asparagus”?
By Frances Grace Fyfe
Bebenek paints an accurate picture of grief – how it can make you both glassy-eyed and allow you to see the world more clearly.
By Frances Grace Fyfe
Avasilichioaei is attuned to what we might hear in an otherwise quiet room.
By Frances Grace Fyfe
One of the sheer brilliances of Kwan’s book is turning migration into a love poem and love into a migration.
By Carlos A. Pittella
This latest by Klara du Plessis examines a collaborative event and, in doing so, endlessly multiplies it – so the event isn’t dead after all.
By Carlos A. Pittella
This is a book of silences: the long blanket of winter, the blank of the page always larger than the poems themselves, the passivity of government.
By Carlos A. Pittella
Amid dark undercurrents that often implicate poet and reader alike, Marciano creates her own rituals.
By Carlos A. Pittella
If I could buy an atlas of Canadian cities recently mapped by poets, I would expect to find John Reibetanz’s Toronto.
By Carlos A. Pittella