recipes in a dead language by Amy LeBlanc

cupboard number one: Folded flour bags glazed like snow­– breaking twist ties on cans with labels turned inward. You see the light between their dents and vertical lines, ingredient lists in Latin. The door shuts in an ode to the truffle and the saltine, with only a paper corner to … [click for more]

President: Sarah de Leeuw

Currently President of the League of Canadian Poets, Sarah de Leeuw is a professor who holds a Canada Research Chair in Humanities and Health Inequities with the Northern Medical Program at UNBC, the Faculty of Medicine at UBC. Her scholarly and creative work focus on marginalized people and geographies, especially … [click for more]

Treasurer: Michael Andrews

An accomplished Operations and Finance executive with experience across multiple sectors and industries, Michael Andrews is recognized for his ability to see beyond the numbers to recognize transformational business opportunities. Michael currently serves as COO of Access Copyright, a collective that distributes millions of dollars annually in licensing royalties to … [click for more]

Ontario Regional Representative: Claudia Coutu Radmore

Including three years training teachers in Vanuatu as a CUSO cooperant, Montreal-born writer Claudia Coutu Radmore has lived, taught and created art in Quebec, Ontario, Manitoba, and China. She is the President of Haiku Canada. Claudia started catkin press in 2012, and along with several full collections, Accidentals (Apt. 9 … [click for more]

Past President: Ayesha Chatterjee

Born and raised in India, Ayesha Chatterjee has lived in England, the USA and Germany and now calls Toronto home. She is the author of two poetry collections. Her poems have appeared in journals across the world including The Missing Slate (Pakistan), The Moth (Ireland) and CV2 (Canada)  and have … [click for more]

Alberta-NWT Regional Representative: Rayanne Haines

Rayanne Haines is an award-winning fiction author and poet, and the co-host of the poetry podcast, Let’s Get Lit. She was executive director of the Edmonton Poetry Festival from 2012 to 2019. In 2018, she was a feature artist for Capital City Press with Edmonton Public Library. In January 2019, … [click for more]

mosom by Samantha Marie Nock

    Order a copy of this issue of CV2 here. – Samantha Marie Nock is a Cree-Métis writer, jr front end web developer, database nerd, and certified cat lady from the BC Peace Region. Her family originally comes from Île-à-la-Crosse (Sakitawak), Saskatchewan. She has been published in Canadian Art, … [click for more]

As You Wish by Shirley Camia

you are still in the philippines by a dock inhaling sea salt enjoying the dance of the palms your ancestral home of your nieces and nephews sisters and brothers mother and father above and below the ground where the taste of milkfish is clean and pure where you are full … [click for more]

Signs of Chamomile by Mollie Coles Tonn

Cardinal in a tree, berries gnashed in its beak, I crouch low to the soil to see what’s left of the garden I’ve inherited. Lupine spines, mushrooms, poisons I graze without plucking. My friend Anita says everything will bud in their perfect timing. I search for remains in the dirt, … [click for more]

Blue Roof Farm Revisited by Elizabeth Greene

That house will never let her go, says Helen. It hasn’t.  Kim, 89, bent, silvery, warm brown eyes, light starting to fall through her, leads us to her long low kitchen, wood floors scuffed from generations of children and dalmatians (gone now, the house marking their absence with silence). .  … [click for more]

The crow swallowed my eye by sophie anne edwards

. . . . The crow swallowed my eye, and laughed.   Copyright © sophie anne edwards. Honourable mention in the Very Small Verse Contest from the League of Canadian Poets (2019).   – sophie anne edwards walks and creates site-specific and responsive poetry on Mnidoo Mnising (Manitoulin Island). Her work … [click for more]

NOW HIRING: Office Administrator

Date Posted: Aug 13, 2019 Application Deadline: Aug 27, 2019 Start Date: Sep 16, 2019 Salary Range: 20K – 30K Additional Salary Information: Annual salary: $23,000, 3 days/21 hours per week Province: Ontario Region: Metro Toronto Area City: Toronto Employee Benefits: N/A Organization’s Field/Discipline: The Arts Job’s focus: Administrative Job Type: Part-time Career Level: Intermediate Organization Description League of Canadian Poets  Established in … [click for more]

NOW HIRING: Communications and Office Coordinator

Date Posted: Aug 13, 2019 Application Deadline: Aug 27, 2019 Start Date: Sep 16, 2019 Salary Range: 30K – 40K Additional Salary Information: Annual salary: $30,500, 4 days/week Province: Ontario Region: Metro Toronto Area City: Toronto Employee Benefits: Health Organization’s Field/Discipline: The Arts Job’s focus: Creative & Administrative Job Type: Part-time Career Level: Intermediate Organization Description League of Canadian Poets  Established in 1966, … [click for more]


. Our lives run like sparks through the rubble.  — Derek Jarman   You shouted awhile and he proposed some things. Night at the opera. The room swayed and rocked, pressed up against one another, the atmosphere buoyant. Hard to pinpoint the exact moment of possession. You were like magnets. … [click for more]

Caraway by Maria Scala

A cold blast of air each time the door opened bell dinging, expectant smile: Are you from the family? As I packed the milk away from the meat I’d say no, and explain to the coiffed customer who’d already stopped listening. When I cut my thumb on the big slicer … [click for more]

Review: Radiant | By Kate Marshall Flaherty

Inanna Publications | 2019 | $18.95 | Purchase online Reviewed by Lesley Strutt   Kate Flaherty’s collection of poems in Radiant is an uplifting treatment of one of life’s most excruciating experiences – cancer. Rather than drifting into self-pity, Flaherty finds a moment in almost every poem to celebrate being alive. When … [click for more]

Tatiana in Gaspra, 1902 by Annick MacAskill

Father’s flesh has faded from his bones— his second-to-last rites your last blessings in the duchess’s Crimean cottage, where sunlight bleaches out his lips, the romance of his hands curved about a desk, a notebook; under the stink of camphor, the milky gaze and the refusal that have endured his … [click for more]

MY (YOUR) HOME MOVIE by Alexei Perry-Cox

Of the films you never made during les années des plomb¹ .              my favourite is Territoire de L’instant (Land of the Moment). After your funeral, I use the video camera you used to document my dance recitals .             to … [click for more]

belly breath by Eli Tareq Lynch

it fell      underneath me it is falling                           over my wept breaths my chest falls     in breaths outside              short breaths outside all the lungs        are falling outside              collapsing snot i don’t want to remember                another time they pushed me yesterday              or know the feeling                           of how they pushed me yesterday or … [click for more]

Bow by Kaie Kellough

                                                        . . . . . . This concrete pastoral poem is a rift. This rift is in fact a river. The image … [click for more]

Chaiwala by Manahil Bandukwala

I kiss my lover the same way I make a cup of tea: pour water and milk into a saucepan, watch them swirl together, teabag just peeking out above the surface; you and I and tangled legs and tangled hair. Turn the heat up slowly, kisses, first gentle, cinnamon on … [click for more]

Love Numbers by Madhur Anand

What is that rule? I before Me, except after She. I am too obedient to tidal potential To find the right constant for susceptibility. Ten little houseplants, all gifts, unloved, but essential To keep love alive. Still I desire a Boston fern For its atmosphere. How it winterizes characters In … [click for more]

Patience by Annick MacAskill

Morning that stretches past noon, makes its presence known. Birds keep calling because their Google calendar shut itself off during the night. The children in your building are all off to school— you envy their lunch bags, their lined notebooks, their coloured everything. The sight of a woman’s hand threaded … [click for more]

The Sky Between Two Roofs by Jamie Wang

There were two roofs. One was black, one was grey. In between them was a sky. Sometimes, the sky seemed so far away. Sometimes it was near. On hot summer days, The clouds would drift aimlessly between the two roofs, While a breeze swirled around white petals that settled in … [click for more]


.           You must ask yourself: .           where is it snowing? .                        Louise Gluck, Persephone the Wanderer   Louise’s poem, the mother chops her daughter into chuck. In mythology, as in popular culture, … [click for more]

Insomnia by Peter Taylor

The brain’s a room where ideas file languid and recover until fear, the white flame, creates burnt space. The past is cinders, thought ashes. Their dull roaring keeps me awake beneath the skull’s electric crematorium. I imagine whole decades burning in a pure conflagration. Abrupt as tinder, the mind ignites … [click for more]

6 Pieces on Poetry with Nisha Patel

Who are the members of the League of Canadian Poets? With over 750 members – growing every day -, our membership is diverse. Of course, though, all members have one thing in common: poetry! 6 Pieces on Poetry is our new quarterly series where members of the League will answer our 6 … [click for more]

Translation by Sound by Natasha Ramoutar

एक-ing like a long lost bird, like a दो from her mother, like the young तीन with a half-mended heart | चार your venison deep red, mix the blood with पांच while छ-tting among your neighbours | I once सात at the edge of the world | The आठ-or always … [click for more]

Alone and together by Lenea Grace

I will sit next to you on a Tuesday, pack cardboard boxes and cut red string, drink an afternoon coke or two, get the hang of each other – the lay of a new land mapped in conversation, versed in a walking song – .            … [click for more]

The Call by Jude Goodwin

The call comes just as she closes her eyes, the brown cat curled behind her calves, the window partly open letting in a bit of spring breath, a bit of early dark. A call from the blue room, the cave of teenager, with its mirrored blanket blocking the doorway, its … [click for more]

Greek Rose by Maria Scala

I come back to the table and find you with a Greek rose. The waiter says, Only for a special girl. Outside on Carlaw we wait for the light to change you holding that napkin flower away from your body.   Copyright © Maria Scala.   – Maria Scala lives with … [click for more]

693 Cemetery Road by Maureen Hynes

We lived a week in the slope-ceilinged, head-hitting house, banged our knees against the banister, nailed pillows against the rafters, abandoned our books in the sand. Spilled every kind of tea, crushed blueberries to mask our bruises. Sunrise pierced our eyes awake. The sky filled and emptied, fog surrounded the … [click for more]

White Flag by Karen Enns

Our lives are dreamlike and ungrounded. What we thought we understood is left behind in yellowed newsprint on the seats of trains and buses, in the cellars of old houses with uneven roofs. What do we know of the solid calculations of our age? Wavering air takes hold of our … [click for more]

7 am, morning dark by Stephanie Chang

My mother wakes up before anyone else in the flat. She tells me it precedes her sometimes, how her husband doesn’t live here anymore. She’s sick with stomach pain again, chamomile mouth unzipping saliva from gums. So my father takes my sister and I out for home-style Korean. We laugh … [click for more]

I’m Your Man by Karen Mulhallen

Well there were the three of us, Jules, Larissa and I, at Snakes and Lattes which has a lot to do with the milk of human kindness in the dark places where the old serpents lead us, on the edge of Remembrance Day, talking of Leonard Cohen While only a … [click for more]

Chrysanthemum by Fiona Tinwei Lam

Rolls of rice paper in the corner, jars of soft-haired brushes, elegant cakes of watercolour, black inkstone at the centre. My mother held the brush vertically, never slant, arm and fingers poised, distilling bird or breeze into diligent rows of single characters. Hours rippled.  Years of practice urged the true … [click for more]

Home Address by Jaclyn Desforges

I know you, he says, and he’s wrong. Somewhere inside her there is a forest and in the forest there is a meadow and in the meadow there is a cottage and in the cottage she’s peeling potatoes and boiling water for soup. Confident of her whereabouts in a way … [click for more]

All Purple by Jonathan Chu

The sky here is purple.  On a good summer’s day, .                          you can hear the flick .              slip of koi dipping out of pitch. Raindrop shatters .              against barnacle … [click for more]

In Duplicate by Anna Yin

.                                    Beware of things in duplicate – Dana Gioia   These days I read for signs: on a table, a set of blue china, at the window, a spider’s web… Over my head, … [click for more]

OVERCAST by stephanie roberts

you’ve tasted the soup of scorched tomato and broccoli that set your teeth on edge but you’ve not met that loss that permanently skews the jaw grief that plants sunset in the eye forever remember the high-spirited mum with a quick and rainbow smile whose daughter died at nine many … [click for more]

In Al Purdy’s House by James Arthur

It is strange, living in the house of a writer who has died. I use your cutlery, your typewriter. I read your autobiography while lying in your bed, trying to imagine Roblin Lake and this lakeside piece of land as they were sixty years ago, when you and Eurithe built the … [click for more]

That Instrument of Laughter by Canisia Lubrin

Nowadays I like to say cool cool cool thrashing my tongue like iguana before even a li’l wind ruffle my branch. Because that was the dark, that was the dark between my lips, saying nothing beyond the resolute, so I forlorn, cool? Here is where the chronicle of a small life turned … [click for more]

Waking in the Preceding by Ali Blythe

Hello my forever ago, don’t worry, you won’t be reading this much longer. You will have already returned in the body of a snowcloud which is suggestively, fashionably, only ever one second old. Yes darling, it’s me, it says as proof that in space, though there are many silences, fleeting … [click for more]

To my mother, aloud by E. Canine McJabber

Send your snail mail and I’ll hide the table salt. When I stamped my last mail-order bride, she threw the book at me. Her velvet twinset in divorce court the only good pairing that came of our match. Now, I work hotlines pushing human tissue samplings: primed for fucks or … [click for more]

Girl Gives Birth to Thunder by K.B. Thors

It was more a clearing of space than conception, a slice less electric than imagined. Lightning rods are crosshairs of least resistance, so why go out of your way to carve cold room root cellars for another collapsed shaft of parenthood? The wedge we want is a clamour—cutline access to … [click for more]

My Father’s Grief by Pamela Porter

I want to take away my father’s grief. I want to unravel the thread of it from his shirts.  I want to scrub the dirt-black seams of it from his fingernails. I want to sweep it from the doorways of his house, wash it from the walls and hinges .  … [click for more]

Fresh Voices 17

Welcome to the seventeenth edition of Fresh Voices, a project from and for the League’s associate members, edited by Joan Conway and Blaine Marchand. 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 … [click for more]

Jaws (1975) by Sennah Yee

. . . It reminds me of you—no, not the shark. The shooting star in that quiet scene on the boat, beautiful but brief.           Copyright © Sennah Yee. Originally published in Arc Poetry Magazine (Issue 86, Summer 2018).   – Sennah Yee is from Toronto, where … [click for more]

Reconciliation by Gwen Benaway

.                  “I am not a saint. I am a crooked good.” .                               —Louise Bernice Halfe kaawin ninisidotawaasii .               nijaa’ge, zhaaganaash I am … [click for more]

The Writing Parent: On Work

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]

6 Pieces on Poetry with Allan Briesmaster

Who are the members of the League of Canadian Poets? With over 750 members – growing every day -, our membership is diverse. Of course, though, all members have one thing in common: poetry! 6 Pieces on Poetry is our new quarterly series where members of the League will answer our … [click for more]

Brown Names by Marilyn Dumont

.        Memory is a cemetery .                      I’ve visited once or twice, white .                      ubiquitous and the set aside .         Everywhere underfoot… .      … [click for more]

Free Write Manifesto by Andrea Thompson

  .        Click on the album cover above to listen to a performance of “Free Write Manifesto.”   Copyright © Andrea Thompson. Originally featured in Soulorations (2018).   – Andrea Thompson is a writer, educator and spoken word artist who has been publishing and performing her work for over … [click for more]

Will it get us through the winter by Sue Sorensen

Will it get us through the winter, this new smaller love? Compact, slim. You can fold it, store it easily, though it slips through cracks, asserts itself when needed, then steps back,  arranging its limbs. Now less bulky, this unassuming love curls into corners, waiting quietly. No demands, no promises, no … [click for more]

Her Music by Jude Goodwin

I spend a portion of each day in the music of our child. She rushes home, drops coat and books on the table, before her snacks, before her laptop, she pulls the bench out, a loyal friend waiting waiting worn and wobbly for her return, she pulls the bench out … [click for more]

Left Coast Poetry Beat: DTES Writers’ Collective

Column by Bill Arnott Western Canada’s poetry scene teems with talent, from neophytes to award-laden laureates. Authors of every facet share spoken word, competitive slam, and rapier-sharp contemporary as writers and fans converge in person, print, online and on airwaves. This is not a list of writing/reading groups or events. It’s subjective, … [click for more]

On the Nature of Intelligence by Penn Kemp

Rewilding my senses to catch up with yours beyond thought and  logic into the realm of scents.  A musky note on the dark side of lunar new. Ears sharpened to tips. Eyes accustomed to shifting dusk.  No extrasensory perception yours, heightened to distinguish illusion from moving shapes, from fright.  A … [click for more]

2019 Jessamy Stursberg Poetry Prize: Winners!

The League of Canadian Poets would like to wish a heartfelt congratulations to all the incredible winners of the 2019 Jessamy Stursberg Poetry Prize! This year, we received a record number of three-hundred and eighty-one submissions and we’re so excited to publish the six winning poems right here on our … [click for more]

The day after you left by Angelina Shandro

the day after you left was like curly haired boys shouting from the back of a pickup truck, souvlaki smouldering and hissing at the waterfront, waves exposing their white flesh, moments before striking concrete.   like a girl’s hesitation before she boards the rickety bus to Athens, like vagrant dogs sniffing … [click for more]

Calabash by Max Zhang

When we were small we would walk in between the cold, dying firs, past the fissures in the sides of the grain silo without saying a single word. The slide came into view first and we tested our speed, flannel jackets  dropping onto the frosted grass as we tore up … [click for more]

The Sky Between Two Roofs by Jamie Wang

There were two roofs. One was black, one was grey. In between them was a sky. Sometimes, the sky seemed so far away. Sometimes it was near. On hot summer days, The clouds would drift aimlessly between the two roofs, While a breeze swirled around white petals that settled in … [click for more]

All Purple by Jonathan Chu

The sky here is purple.  On a good summer’s day, .                          you can hear the flick .              slip of koi dipping out of pitch. Raindrop shatters .            … [click for more]

Reflections in Kermanshah by Nazanin Soghrati

the sky yawns us into existence  spits the lonely image of our crumbling  bodies onto the barren desserts of Kermanshah.  my mother and I are huddling forward towards  some unnameable future hand in hand, awaiting  our past to come and grapple us by the throat uncertainty lurking underneath the thick of our … [click for more]

I Am by Sophie Choong

                i am  tired  of all the  madness and rage and fighting  from the one day when i chose to  wear my sister’s skirt to a New Year’s party  and my mother said i was  no child of hers.    i am  sick  of … [click for more]

Bibliophilia by Kayla Czaga

I am very avant-garde in what I use for bookmarks. That look on your face would do. A clump of my hair in a pinch. At sixteen I dumped coffee into Jane Austen and still she crackles open to a botched proposal. I am a monster dogearer. I use Joan … [click for more]

Event Horizon by Ali Kisat

I roll into day. Twenty-something waiting to leap into the gasps of age, to hurl myself like a chaffinch off a high branch. I do not stop to think this through. The bed is left tossed. I navigate bare walls and my eyes are closed. Of course, the day is … [click for more]

The Dogs are Coming by Juliane Okot Bitek

I hold my madness to my chest after the dogs have gotten here I hold my madness to my chest because chest madness is silence everywhere else God in the basement drunk & it’s only just past noon God in the basement in bits & I’ve failed to put him … [click for more]

How We Spent Our Childhood by Erin Kirsh

Slid, thighs squeezing mahogany banister, mother screaming father shrugging, candy-cream light through dusk-smudged windows, slid, hit post, tailbone supple, dismount, charge up carpeted stairs, slip, stampede up on all fours, rug burn pinking palms, swing thin, sparsely-haired legs, brave from childhood, over the wood, do it all again until mother … [click for more]

ASK A SHORTLISTER: What keeps you going as a writer?

We asked the poets shortlisted for our 2019 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 8, 2019. *** What keeps you going as a writer?   Mikko Harvey: Writing is one of my … [click for more]

Postcard: a desert sestina by Jennifer Zilm

Hey you!—this postcard, like every other, is just fragment of a larger journey. Stepping over the threshold of the plane, I entered this hot room of a country. Seen entire the desert seems soft but the sand is sharp to touch, like turning hard snow with bare hands when I … [click for more]


The Shortlist in Conversation is a series in which poets shortlisted for the League’s 2019 Book Awards engage with each other’s works and talk poetry. In this installment, Adam Dickinson, author of Anatomic (Coach House Books) and Alice Major, author of Welcome to the Anthropocene (University of Alberta Press) – both collections shortlisted … [click for more]

The Gully by Deanna Young

It lives behind the house, it hums and sighs. A snaking creek where willful souls are wont to wander, die. This is the fear. The greenish water tinged with tears of sorry children, who did not listen, but waded in, soiled skirts held high. In spring, the rains, unleashed, mob … [click for more]

Mythological Dinner by Laura Ritland

We order steamed fish for the moon goddess. My grandmother’s prayers to the lord flap like dried eel from the low chandeliers: O lead me to His House. I am far from home. Tonight, we are heathens in a restaurant dying in an English-tongued town and my grandfather’s spirit pounds … [click for more]


We asked the poets shortlisted for our 2019 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 8, 2019. ***   What is the importance of community to your writing life?   Jenny … [click for more]

Mother, Order Apple by Dani Couture

The radio reports there are no apples this year, so you drive to the closest orchard and ask for apples. I would like to buy apples. When the man at the chained gate tells you there are none, you say: I want apples. You tell him there have always been … [click for more]

Excerpt from Ledi by Kim Trainor

Every morning I wake at dawn and watch the blue light seep through cracks and blinds, like water all around. It trickles through sockets, into my mouth, my throat, until I am filled with light and can see the cage of bones, damp heart, dark venous blood at wrist and … [click for more]

ASK A SHORTLISTER: How did poetry become part of your life?

We asked the poets shortlisted for our 2019 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 8, 2019. ***   How did poetry become part of your life?   Tanis Franco: In Ontario … [click for more]

Flame by Jim Nason

Rooster learned to swallow flames by watching Swan in bright red suit. Crooked Swan, Orangutan King smirked. Such a nasty woman. On top of his stilt-legs draped in pink fringe, wearing green-gold head feathers and red tail extensions, Rooster juggled a ballet, a coin, and his new torch. Crow hovered … [click for more]

Excerpt from Tar Swan by David Martin

Gentlemen, say Alexander Mackenzie once netted an Elephant by the jugular, a vein he blotted ashore, and ashore he cajoled a catheter up its trunk, a trunk that smelled of sea coal. Believe me, he never imagined his mammoth-heir would become Nature’s Supreme Gift to Industry and tender its body … [click for more]

In medias res by Alice Major

Alas poor child, you’re born in medias res – the stage is set with swirling depictions of a globe in panic, small rainbow-coloured frogs hopping into oblivion, a scene of smoggy atmospheres, vast gyres of plastic churning in the ocean, Scylla and Charybdis, sailors screaming from their boats, soldiers raising … [click for more]


Book*hug | 2018 | 108 Page | $18.00 | Purchase online Reviewed by Jennifer Zilm Reviewing the Shortlist is a weekly series in which poets shortlisted for our 2019 Book Awards review books written by their peers. Join us for this series until the award winners are announced on June 8, … [click for more]

I welcomed the wound & by Stevie Howell

I was ready early. I was wearing that dress. The wound would take me somewhere, then deliver me back to the step & b/c we met I became wound’s home, a nest. Home is the only word, really, if you think about it. Wound is its synonym. God’s first act … [click for more]

A Minor Excretory Organ by Adam Dickinson

.       Lead (Blood): 1.36 ug/dL   It’s easy to feel detached. But it’s easy to eat someone else’s stray hair in a salad. This is globalization. You can raise a glass of water to adulthood, confident you’ve done everything right, but still the companies are counting on us to … [click for more]

B-Line Espial by Shazia Hafiz Ramji

A silver flake from the surveillance cam above me fell into my lap on the bus. It was not made of light, but I don’t know where it disappeared. In my glimpse of espial, I saw the necessity of doubling, so I waited to see myself in all the people … [click for more]

Adaptation by Tess Liem

.                                                                    Am I supposed to believe— when I see this poster advertising the adaptation of Anna Karenina from … [click for more]

First Death in Nova Scotia by Jenny Haysom

Have you seen Nancy? My mother took me by the shoulders and shook me. Nancy was younger, but in the country it was common for children of all ages to play together. An unadulterated boredom was our lot; gravel road and level sea, the dour fortitude of spruce. No doubt … [click for more]

Vial by Mikko Harvey

I was having blood drawn again, undergoing testing for my mysterious ailment. The phlebotomist and I inhabited the usual mix of small talk and silence— then she giggled. What is it? I said.      It’s just, isn’t this strange? she said, holding up a vial of my blood. To see what … [click for more]

anthroposcopy by Tanis Franco

the skull is a cage or carriage with skin stretched over like a map on a globe. the forehead is a plain scarred with grooves from a plough. the eyebrows are islands of leaning spruce trees. irises are twin dormant volcanoes, the pupils are craters of ash. the nose resembles … [click for more]