I Have a Problem by Greg Santos

All I care about is everything. I like to lie down and look up at the stars, even when there are none. I am almost nothing but thoughts and water.  I find mirrors unbearably off-putting. My children find them droll. Do you feel that too? My left hand feels like … [click for more]

If You Say So by Abby Paige

I’d like to be the bullet in the story of the hunter who saves the heroine from a wolf. No authorship,  all instrument, aloft on the tailwind of someone else’s moral clarity, released from my sense of direction, sent  headlong into the beast’s hot flesh. No bullet regrets its trajectory. The terminal case is blessed by certainty,   endowed with freedom … [click for more]

Far Away by Kate Marshall Flaherty

Pictures taped on the wall, tenderly showing sequence— panties before skirt, socks before shoes—set me wondering what an Alzheimer mind feels like inside … Scrolling back to childhood where daughters seem sisters, déjà vus cobweb, and sleepwalkers startle and wake under snowy lamp-posts where I think I must know you … [click for more]

Name Me After a Fish by Leah MacLean-Evans

Goldeye or Cichlid  silver and smooth and genderless, make me as an alien, forget  the rules, name me  Corydoras of two halves, name me Coelacanth for surviving  name me Plecostromus name me Trout  name me Catfish  let them imagine my genitals as smooth tough skin, not think to touch them.  Say, let … [click for more]

time is an ingredient by Valerie Wong

to say you wounded me viscerally would be a matter of fact. eating hurt – salt and sugar marinated my mouth in an unholy fire. breathing hurt – acrid air tore against my nose, unleashing a torrent of blood thick as paint. the slightest flick of my tongue lit up … [click for more]

Dawn by Stephanie Cui

Out in the moonlight  The trees are glowing white. They are fully dressed and await the wind’s call.   But the wind is a shy girl at four in the morning,  And she does not come out to play. Dawn slowly tip-toes, blueing the sky. I am lost on a path … [click for more]

Out to Dry in Cape Breton by Anita Lahey

Nan hesitates at the window, fingering lace, humming her quiet history, cut-off breast. She stares down the old grey   laundry line out back, up the hill, swinging low. Strong as ever. No use for a body living on memories and bingo, sweetened  Carnation’s in her tea. “Can’t get up there … [click for more]

Moving On by Doris Fiszer

I don’t recognize this man whose steps shuffle tentatively as if his body were a burden.   I don’t recognize the shrunken belly his voice once booming now whispers in raspy monotones.   Age is unraveling him exposing his raw edges dampening the fire in his green eyes rattling his scientific mind … [click for more]

– 32nd parallel – by Doyali Islam

    –   Doyali Islam’s second poetry book is heft (McClelland & Stewart, 2019). This collection includes work published in Kenyon Review Online, Best Canadian Poetry, and here in Poetry Pause. In 2017, Doyali was a National Magazine Award poetry finalist and a guest on CBC Radio’s The Sunday … [click for more]

Whale Hunt by Robert Colman

“If this breaks you die.” – A machine shop owner, cradling an airplane part in his hands.    We ask you to pull us further from land, the harpoon  snug in your side, the seal bladder  ballast above you. We ask  after we leap from our boats  and pierce your flesh that … [click for more]

Today I Will Different by Karin Cope

You wake, you say today will be different, today I will do what I do what I must what I will today I will          efficient        today tasks completed      today       organized    today my desk in order. Today I will          different. Do today as if some other … [click for more]

translations from an unknown language by Brian Henderson

who would have imagined beginnings themselves would have no beginning  when we slip into our skins it’s like water feldspar winking with its many mica eyes   we imbibe small tassels of time  who can follow the thread as it’s weaving in and out of the traffic of the body  someone is moving … [click for more]

The Mosquito by Chad Norman

.                       On the bench     where I have sat .                       during rapid-passing years .                       and drank many .       … [click for more]

Choosing a Friend by Ayaz Pirani

He’s off the list like Pluto.  I can share apples with that one but it’s formal as Piaget.  She’s bitter-gourd, a pinch of turmeric.  His ear for an echo, standing like scissors.  Her shrimp-paste face is tempting  but he looks like drought. The other, lake effect.  All that’s left is … [click for more]

Country & Western by Rhea Tregebov

My grandfather, absolutely foreign,  his sheared sealskin angular hat set right straight on the middle of the top of his head. Not  cowboys, but his buffalo coat I saw only  thrown over the hood of the car to keep  the engine warm and thought he was wrong again,  in his Old … [click for more]

On the Roof by Aubry Williams

With every jump, I could see a little more of the horizon, .                           and I watched . as it faded from freshly minted pennies to baskets of chili peppers into .             … [click for more]

After convulsing in public by Dominik Parisien

I like to fuck in protest of this body. I’m told the caring treatment afforded my unconscious self is a testament to the kindness of strangers. I do see in it hope and my own dissolution. Convulsing, I lose the possessive body, become a receptacle for concern, just a thing … [click for more]

Moses’s Staff by Richard Weiser

Moses’s staff having once been a snake,  never forgot the supple strength, like a sapling capturing the wind. Despite the upright power, the linear rectitude, what it wouldn’t have given, just for a moment, to crawl on its belly  and eat the dust once again.   Copyright © Richard Weiser. Originally … [click for more]

On Red Days by Amanda Earl

“Love! That red dress—year after year” –Anne Sexton, Menstruation at Forty    I call down the angels they spread  their wings in flight we cry  and soar  over  the world  too small to contain  our agonies   I fight with  my body I am the anti-robot I rust the air metal  I … [click for more]

Four by Sneha Madavan-Reese

Is 4 the same 4 for everybody? –Pablo Neruda, The Book of Questions    My mother draws her four with a right angle; my father’s is pointed on top. My daughter’s four, half the time, is backwards. Her sister signs, tucking a thumb into her raised palm.  “I just adore … [click for more]

Nightwalking Between Centuries by Colin Morton

Somewhere between ends and beginnings alert to the scuff of a shoe in the shadows a block away, I walk the night streets  of this city midway through self-demolition  − half-metamorphosed half-decayed  − passing shadows of my former self on streets where storefronts have shifted,  signs altered, brick facades from … [click for more]

Poem trying to get in out of the rain by Karin Cope

Autumn rattles at the windows of the night, rips leaves from looping trees, punches gustily against the wall. I waken to creaking roofbeams, peer sightless into blacklit night. Nothing to see, but everything that is is sounding: such a rush and crash of waves on rocks; the clothesline sings a one-note samba, the chimney turns to didgeridoo. Only the dog sleeps, silent, beside … [click for more]

Review: Shards of Crystal | By Fern G. Z. Carr

Silver Bow Publishing | 2018 | 98 Page | $23.95 | Purchase online The Musicality of Stars: Shards of Crystal Reviewed by Cynthia Sharp. Originally published on Canadian Poetry Review’s Facebook page.   I’ve been a fan of Fern G. Z. Carr’s work for years, whether it’s orbiting Mars or … [click for more]

Black and White by Joanna Lilley

Do poachers always use helicopters? There are two types of poachers. Professional poachers and subsistence poachers.   Do poachers sometimes argue over who will carry the saw and who will do the cutting? Yes. Professional poachers are very well-equipped. They use night-vision scopes, tranquilizer guns and chainsaws.   How much are the women in Malaysia  … [click for more]

Gray by Samantha Chen

I only know two houses, One dilapidated, dirtied, red bricked bungalow; flimsy shuttered. The other hard and flat, scarce of furniture, collector of timepieces. Cold to meet you. I like to call them mine. There will be space in the middle of my two houses. Old pickle jars and handwritten … [click for more]

The Body is A Here by Abby Paige

When people say it’s friendly here, I think of the woman who called me a bitch in the parking lot, not because she wasn’t friendly, but because only some of the sounds that come out of our mouths are words. I wonder what here is   besides a point we’ve reached in an … [click for more]

For a Child Somewhere by Muneeza Sheikh

Wince when the rocks dig into your hands for I know that they will Bleed. Long for a figure of your favourite superhero for I know that you Ache for one. Fret the work of tomorrow for I know that you will Not succeed. Worry about scavenging your food in … [click for more]

LAWS OF MOTION by Paola Ferrante

Bodies in motion retain emotion less as bodies in relationship. The relationship now will be described between a body here and your body hereinafter  referred to as the object when acted upon by force this has yet to be proven but the maximum  amount of force a body can exert  … [click for more]

53° 59’ 39” N 97 ° 49’ 01” W by David Yerex Williamson

Our airport is small, smells  slightly of burnt fabric insulation.  Sometimes the planes don’t land. Doctors stay another night far from Thai restaurants, their children, jazz. Here, it snows in April and May. Sometimes June. Usually September.   We don’t have an insurance agent. Truck registration renewals are sent out by plane sometimes, returned … [click for more]

A Toast by Rhea Tregebov

Where did the bride go? She was there in a fifth floor window, in full confection, tugging the lip of her absurd strapless, faceless in the particular light of this March afternoon just as I was contemplating marriage – specifically my long-married friends who are still married and whom I pray shall remain thus to … [click for more]

Swamp Zone by Joan Conway

That summer the swamp was our world I rowed with my sister among bulrushes and pond lilies waxy cups, a floating garden flat disk of leaves platforms for dragonflies black veined wings iridescent in sunlight.  That summer my uncle fried up frog legs. ‘Just like chicken’ he declared them sitting … [click for more]

My Apologies by Merle Amodeo

Sorry about the call I made last night. It was late.  You need your sleep. The world is counting on you to make it a better place.   Longed to hear your voice, be cheered by your laughter,  but all I got  was your answering machine.   How clever the message was: … [click for more]

Robert Creeley: Company of Others by Stephen Bett

why not, buy a goddam big car,    drive, he sd, for  christ’s sake, look  out where yr going.    I Know a Man ― Robert Creeley (with lil’ nods to Dylan & the Creel himself)        why not, buy a goddam big car,  question for the dummies & generic Johns:  was that a real … [click for more]

Conversation by Eleonore Schönmaier

Are my thoughts so noisy they murmur outside my body?—keening like distant  voices, like wind through buoys. Each moment carries its own frame.  On the shoals I count fifty seals, their grey pod-bodies entwined.  Is it their thoughts or mine that I hear?—a longing  so ardent and spacious.  The past and its regret talks  … [click for more]

Review: Practical Anxiety | By Heidi Greco

Inanna Publications | 2018 | 104 Page| $18.95 | Purchase online Double the Pleasure: Heidi Greco’s Practical Anxiety Review by Susan Ioannou When Inanna Publications announced Heidi Greco’s newest collection Practical Anxiety, it blurbed that the poems “dwell in the hearth of domesticity.” I was intrigued by the title, especially … [click for more]

The Varying Hare by Tammy Armstrong Moore

May they have long lives,  The hares that afford us a break  From the language that would explain them. —Dermot Healy    I’d been away so long I’d forgotten  .                         this province’s dark roads and deep pines rarely bring down enough moon .        … [click for more]

With Thanks to Prince Charles by Merle Amodeo

I’ve been trying to find an explanation for our break up. Then last night I saw a documentary  about Prince Charles and Camilla, and the light dawned.   It’s adversity that keeps people together. If the queen had approved of their love when they were both young and reasonably innocent, they’d … [click for more]

It’s Not a Diet! by Katerina Fretwell

Omnivore carnivore herbivore fedupivore Eat Right for your Blood Type allows me seafood and molasses Atkins the Man abhors a bounty of complex carbs Flat Belly Smart Sugar opines on TexMex and salsa Ayurveda condemns shellfish, garlic, anything tomato seems we’re back in belladonna nightshade 1300’s: when the Devil spawned … [click for more]

After rain by Lesley Strutt

young finches at the feeder      I go to the mock orange      snip three sprigs  for the jar beside me on the porch   I wait     the door behind me creaks open   pressed by the wind to utter a sound   it would otherwise not make   I wait   tradescantia struggle to right themselves   after hard rain     lift their purple … [click for more]

A haiku by Jacquie Pearce

. after the rain my daughter jumps into each piece of sky  . Copyright © Jacquie Pearce. Winner of the 2018 National Haiku Contest from the League of Canadian Poets.  . – Jacquie Pearce grew up on Vancouver Island. She has published poetry, short non-fiction and several novels for children. … [click for more]

Photograph of Earth from Space by Pamela Porter

On the outskirts of Luanda, Angola, Gerald Nduma has walked an hour to school carrying his chair, which is really an empty coffee can.  Nine years old,  he holds in his other hand a mango  which will be his lunch. At school,  which is really a tree, Gerald  places his lunch beneath … [click for more]

Tilting to the Shadow Side by Judy Gaudet

the Earth is tucking her head into the shoulder of winter   the maple is shivering in her sparkling bright red coat   the newly potted plants at the door are knocking to come in   Copyright © Judy Gaudet.   – Judy Gaudet is a poet and teacher living in Prince Edward … [click for more]

2018 National Broadsheet Contest Winner: Leah MacLean-Evans

Congratulations to the winner of the League’s 2nd annual National Broadsheet Contest, Leah MacLean-Evans! Her winning poem, “Name Me After a Fish” was selected by judge Doyali Islam for its “subtle vulnerabilities and playful humour.”       “Name Me After a Fish” is a spare poem, but each pass yields more for the … [click for more]

Mapping by Sneha Madhavan-Reese

I was raised near the jutting-out knuckle on the thumb of my right hand. A native Michigander, I was never without a map of the state, its lower peninsula shaped like an open palm. My life line traced the path of I-69. We took school field trips to Lansing, in … [click for more]

the weight of dew by Daniela Elza

 “The natural world is the old river that runs through everything and I think poets will forever fish along its shores.” —Mary Oliver (1994)               can I fill these words with what is not intended?        with what the river keeps hidden under her tongue. … [click for more]

Review: Checking In | By Adeena Karasick

Talonbooks | 2018 | 96 Page | $16.95 | Purchase online  Reviewed by Jake Marmer for Tablet Poetry, at its core, is a mystical endeavor: an encounter with the web of language that holds our consciousness. This is true even if the poem, on the surface, seems like a series … [click for more]

Dog of Noah by Dorothy Mahoney

Suddenly there is need for one more dog. Thick sawdust becomes  bedded with urine and dung, I tread a rush of horns and tusks, hooves and talons, squawk and squeal of spine and snout, the clatter of plank. The slow business of settling into the monotony of incessant rain, with the … [click for more]

Rachel: A Feline Fable by Susan Ioannou

Rachel always liked to slink  in a not quite empty sink.  Even when we pulled the stopper  still she crouched in hopes of water.      One sad morning we were startled  finding Rachel grown much smaller.  Now, alas, we search in vain   fearing she’s slipped down the drain.      Has she flushed … [click for more]

I Knew by Doris Fiszer

The events of childhood do not pass but repeat themselves like seasons of the year.  –Eleanor Farjeon    I knew by the overloaded platefuls of Polish food weighing down our table by the rows of Maxwell House jars, cans of Habitant pea soup regimental on our basement shelves by the number … [click for more]

Post Truth by Sean Wiebe

Nothing is true. The papers print untruths. even The Washington Post is post truth even CIA briefings to the President even the Christmas Card holiday greeting your Grandmother sent through the post arrived with an empty stamp without a seal or guarantee  that I love you is more than pat,  her name is Pat, … [click for more]

There is a Stir, Always by Catherine Graham

If I hold onto this body the snow will grow inside me and the winter of my cells will flake into tiny crystals like six-figured Gods, each arrow tip attempting to make the point of something as tears flow.   There is a stir, always.  I rise to the cold to … [click for more]

Slipstream by Lynn Tait

We are all made up fragments, so shapelessly and strangely assembled that every moment, every piece plays its own game. And there is as much difference between ourselves and ourselves as between us and others. -Montaigne   She drifts into various life forms, enters unnoticed through separate doors, assumes the … [click for more]

A Lion by Joshua Levy

Benjy prowls the sidewalk of  St. Catherine Street, ready to pounce.   Shoppers meander by unaware of the danger.  He saw the circus last Sunday and discovered that he’s a lion.   It was no fun being a boy. What fun to be a lion!   Copyright © Joshua Levy.   – Joshua … [click for more]

In the New Republic of Poetry by Greg Santos

after Martin Espada    Poets scrawl their verses onto knives,   flinging the cutlery in the air,   letting chance decide.      Gypsies slink through the throngs,   slipping scrolls of poems   into oblivious purses and pockets.      And the hungry can slip into a bordello   and be fed poems until ink   seeps down their chins.      We have returned to this good land,   where the … [click for more]

Review: Writers North of 54° Chapbooks

Snow Feathers and Skunk Cabbage anthologies from Writers North of 54° 2016 | Contact Harold Fedderson at haroldfeddersen@gmail.com to purchase these chapbooks poems of winter and renewal Review by Lesley Strutt Whatever else we are, Canadians are a nordic people. Our psyche is shaped by our geography. No matter whether we hail … [click for more]

Flight Speed by Lesley Strutt

yellow finch sun-framed the window smeared with the wet eye of a woodpecker lying on the stones now    neck broken no wonder I take off for weeks on end “What are you looking for?” you ask I want flight speed    when I don’t stop to think I can … [click for more]

Heaven Help the Roses by Mark A. McCutcheon

For Pauline Davis, a.k.a. “the Peace Lady,” 1943-2017 Toronto knew her as the Peace Lady: For hours she’d stand athwart an overpass That spanned the Parkway through the valley Don; On Steeles, on Finch, on Lawrence, Eglinton. She wore a white robe, her brown hand held high; Two fingers telegraphing, simply, Peace. … [click for more]

Fresh Voices: Roy Adams, Carol Casey

Welcome to the fourteenth edition of Fresh Voices, a project from and for the League’s associate members. The League’s associate members are talented poets who are writing and publishing poetry on their way to becoming established professional poets in the Canadian literary community. We are excited to be taking this opportunity … [click for more]

Sel by Kate Marshall Flaherty

I would never scold an onion  for causing tears     – Naomi Shihab Nye    I learned the salt content of tears is the same as blood and the sea—   that lysosomes  are healing enzymes,   and sea salt  has nourishing minerals.   We are the same three-fourths water as the earth.   Grey Dead Sea salt … [click for more]

Migrations by Eleonore Schönmaier

The police squint  into the glare on the water looking for small boats.  On a clear day the lightkeeper sees all the way   to Algeria.  Over his sofa hangs a tapestry woven by his grandmother from red   human hair.  Only the birds travel without papers. Though often now   their tiny … [click for more]

Toccata by Joanne Epp

That first lift in the wind, its rough push that sends you staggering. That whisk of leaves across the path. Your hair blown back. A sweeping-out of dead wood, of melancholy. Breathless laughter in the gusts that snatch your voice away. You meet no one except those two who turned … [click for more]

Hamilton Escarpment Park by Ed Woods

steep edge drop-off hidden night effects panoramic view relaxation cabana protection one bench overtaken homeless mans home layers of sleeping bags bundled residual heat melts snow showers my civic plow routine to clear streets for commuters transit and economic needs time for midnight coffee break I request a double order … [click for more]

Suddenly Leaves by Daniela Elza

Letting go .                        of serrated edges   after the rain                stretched flat on unfamiliar pavement  .                       leaves bleed themselves into sidewalks          turning   their webbed essence … [click for more]

Because it snowed by Louise Carson

Soft (as falling snow makes no mistake, covers no missing person or re-shapes the lie of land without a gifting temporariness that cloaks and cleans) and sweet (as when peepers crawl from under winter’s silence, and each call, a raindrop, punctures water’s surface, imprinted where you and I, love, drift … [click for more]

LCP Chapbook Series

The League is embarking on a new quarterly chapbook publication program with the express intent to center diverse voices and rising poetic talents in Canada. The LCP Chapbook Series will publish fresh and exceptional Canadian poetry guided by various themes and forms to increase visibility and recognition for the various … [click for more]

There is a voice by Bänoo Zan

that sings your song  opens your veins to blood  There is a voice who is not you  gives you words you never had  invites you  to the allegory   of the cave  There is a voice in whose tales  you are a myth  shatters your pettiness  and makes you whole  There … [click for more]

Goose in the Bottle by Murray Reiss

The governor of California used to be into Zen. Now he wants Leslie van Houten to explain how she transformed from an upstanding teenager—homecoming princess no less—into a killer who tied a pillow over Rosemary La Bianca’s head with a lamp cord, held her down while another member of Charles … [click for more]

Marcus by Melanie Thompson

“There is lipstick smeared across my mirror. I have crushed so many tubes that I am left with a palette of shades of pink, orange, and red; a myriad of feminine torment. There are still strands of hair woven in my carpet from two fortnights ago, when I took Mother’s … [click for more]

Ars Poetica by Amanda Earl

Some poets celebrate the quietude of spaces, hear music in the awkwardness of silence. Others choke the breath out of a trope. Some leave the starving text to perish. Others carry punctuation marks through the rough. Record the huff of air, pay heed to the rustle of consonants. Some take … [click for more]

Surrender by Lesley Strutt

I take a breath    decant the air   smell  not sorrow    not grief    the damp is not   tinged with death   it lasts  longer than my swift intake shorter   than my life  elegance is not what I am seeking    and yet here    pungent deep and still  waiting where it always was    among … [click for more]

Domestic by Catherine Graham

after “My heart lives in my chest” by Dorothy Molloy He sculpts my words with the chisel of his mouth. Fits me inside his mind’s binding. I do what I’m told to get my playpen back, the edge of no to end each day. What did I do to exit … [click for more]

Review: Auguries | By Clea Roberts

Brick Books | 2017 | 104 Page | $20.00 | Purchase online Signs, Signals, Divinations: Clea Roberts’ Auguries Review by Susan McCaslin Clea Roberts’ spare, finely-crafted Auguries (Brick Books, 2017) is, as the title suggests, a scanning of the Yukon sky and landscape for signs and portents of mysteries both hidden … [click for more]

The Writing Parent – Support System How-Tos

Column by Vanessa Shields I know there are many of us who are writers and parents. This is a wild duality to live. My intention with this column is to write about the challenges of being a parent and a writer. I aim to share stories that reflect both the difficult … [click for more]


Aeolus House | 2018 | 97 Page | $20.00 | Purchase online Review by Stanley Fefferman, also found on Opus One Review The way suburban garden fences are a line the fox crosses from the countryside to steal our chickens, is like the line fox, since time immemorial, has crossed … [click for more]


To order a copy of Heartwood: Poems for the Love of Trees ($25 including tax) directly from the League office, please email nicole@poets.ca with the all of the following information: First Name: Last Name: Email for invoice: Mailing Address for books:  Number of copies you’d like to order:  Within 5 days … [click for more]


On Saturday, June 16, 2018 at our annual awards ceremony in Toronto – this year held as part of the Canadian Writers’ Summit at the Harbourfront Centre – we were thrilled to honour the winners of six League of Canadian Poets awards: three book awards, one spoken word award, and two membership … [click for more]


Saskatchewan Arts Board Writing Grant by Beth Goobie   – from breathing at dusk by Beth Goobie, shortlisted for the 2018 Pat Lowther Memorial Award Coteau Books | 2017| 104 Page | $17.95 | Purchase online – Beth Goobie is the author of 25 books. breathing at dusk is her third … [click for more]


ECW Press | 2018 | 88 Page | $18.95 | Purchase online Review by M.A. Mahadeo – Lenea Grace’s debut poetry collection A Generous Latitude is an intertwined tale of human interaction, love, loss, and the need for connection. Language transcends literal meaning to reflect today’s dating culture, I found … [click for more]


    Trigger Warning by Susan Elmslie The sun was shining outside or it was raining. There were windows but none of them opened. I was wearing clothes but I was naked, that first day back in the classroom after the shooting. The next story we were scheduled to read … [click for more]


Our conversation happened over a couple of weeks between year-end concerts (Beth plays percussion), end-of-term busyness (Sue’s a CEGEP teacher), grocery shopping (Beth), tending to sick kids (Sue). Both of us enjoyed the process. And both of us are very much looking forward to reading the other’s shortlisted book. BETH … [click for more]


We asked the poets shortlisted for our 2018 Book Awards some questions about their writing lives, inspirations and -of course – poetry. Join us for our weekly series Ask a Shortlister until the winners are announced on June 16, 2018. What keeps you going as a writer? Billy-Ray Belcourt: Now, I write for at least … [click for more]


    Scotopia by Mary di Michele Beacon shining from the top of Mount Royal, a cross, unblinking under Capricorn. Beaver Lake is iced over. The ring in his pocket stays in his pocket. In the shadow of the red-tailed hawk, what’s left of a crow is now just tail … [click for more]


  Milkweed by Lesley Belleau Somehow the feasting attached itself to our bodies gnawing against each others hungry corners. Your tongue birchbark sliding my back against the earth your shoulders half hiding the moonsmile and our breaths are crawling like broken weavings in and out of each other. Isn’t firelight … [click for more]


    Permanent Status by Phoebe Wang I wake like a convalescent in an exemplary country naked between cloudy IKEA sheets and a duvet packed with goose feathers. I know a blanket of snow has been pulled over the world because I felt the weight of it like a benediction … [click for more]


Column by Vanessa Shields I know there are many of us who are writers and parents. This is a wild duality to live. My intention with this column is to write about the challenges of being a parent and a writer. I aim to share stories that reflect both the difficult … [click for more]