“Dusk, March, Humber Floodplain” by Kevin Irie
Poetry Pause is the League of Canadian Poets’ daily poetry dispatch. Read “Dusk, March, Humber Floodplain” by Kevin Irie. Due to its formatting, this poem is only available as an image.
Dusk, March, Humber Floodplain
By Kevin Irie


Copyright © Kevin Irie
Previously published in Viewing Tom Thompson, A Minority Report (Frontenac House 2012). First appeared in Poetry Pause on June 25, 2020.
Kevin Irie is Japanese-Canadian poet whose poetry has appeared in Canada and the States and been translated into Spanish and French. His book, Angel Blood: The Tess Poems (Frontenac House, 2004) was nominated for the ReLit Award. Viewing Tom Thomson: A Minority Report (Frontenac House, 2012), was a finalist for the Acorn-Plantos People’s Poetry Award and the Toronto Book Award. His latest, The Tantramar Re-Vision (McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2021) was picked by the CBC as one of the Spring Poetry Books for 2021 and by Quill and Quire Magazine for its 2021 Summer Reading Guide. He lives in Toronto.
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