There’s no saving a sample of realization I was wrong. There is no handy card of symptoms you may be wrong. It has to come together naturally. The river ways have to dry up and then flush with tear. Or some one else has to jigsaw their way into your confused rage. Sincerity doesn’t have a metaphor. It is just sincerity. And it tucks you good.
Hello Toronto/Thornhill! I am back for a reading Wednesday February 24th thanks to the folks at the Pivot Readings at The Steady. Here’s the official link, and here’s the Facebook event. I’m humbled to be reading with Hoa Nguyen, Patrick Warner, and Zachariah Wells, all more accomplished poets than I. But I’m gonna bring it, chiefly in the way of poems about love and family, and cute animals. OH! I have a poem about just those things, 13 Adorable Pictures of the Animals of the Peterborough Zoo As The Learn Your Son Has Been Born (Not pictured, the camels Zahra and Gobi—your favourites), that will be published in Words(on)pages’ Parenthetical zine in May. Come hear me read that poem, and others (with shorter titles) Wednesday February 24th at Pivot. It’s apparently, like, the best reading series in town.