A Current Through the Flesh by Richard-Yves Sitoski
As this suggests, for the author, family came with considerable pain, both psychological and physical.
As this suggests, for the author, family came with considerable pain, both psychological and physical.
Anyone who lived in Toronto in the late 80s/early 90s will know this place, will know what this time did to bodies trying to find love and acceptance, bodies willing to pay any price.
Attic Rain brought a refreshing authenticity that I didn’t want to part with. Sometimes you’d smile or hum in agreement with how relatable the poems are.
This is a particularly raw collection of poetry, I felt, the blank verse tumbling across the page in a cry to be read and felt.
Beaulieu asks, why are we writing?
In the best years, there is a lack of uniformity in poetic styles and moods. This is a good year. Most of the names are familiar with a few poets new to me.
Here, Skeet’s invasion of white space picks up where Eyes Bottle Dark left off and begins with the haunting image of a herd of 191 free-roaming horses found dead, thigh and neck-deep at a stock pond on the Navajo Nation, evaporated through extreme drought caused by “decades-long aggression by the United States and the changing climate”.
In Crowd Source, Cecily Nicholson’s latest collection of poetry, she uses a flock of crows as her framing device, linking meditations on a wide variety of topics with the movement of crows.
He describes We Survived Until We Could Live, his latest collection of poetry as an “attempt to portray a glimpse of war’s horrific aftermath on the family.” In his “attempt to converse with the past,” he believes it is with poetry that he “can document the untold stories of suffering, invite readers into this world, and sharpen their empathy for fellow human beings in pain.”
This collection contains 31 poems arranged in three acts. Miles’s compelling photos—mostly black-and-whites with a few exceptions—appear on facing pages.
I was very intrigued by Vessel, Dani Netherclift’s work on the drowning deaths of her father and brother.
A “Child of War” could not be more timely and necessary, an urgent SOS message in a time capsule coming to warn us about the horrors that inevitably and sadly repeat themselves as history.
Nothing at All, Olivia Tapiero’s collection of vignettes exploring loss, illness, desire, and pain was translated from French by Kit Schluter for this edition.
Bloom opens this collection—her eighth, out now with Brick Books—with “Immeasurable,” a poem about a fleeting connection with a woman on the street
Within a faith tradition that sees only two genders, and from the purview of a small northern community, what can a young person know about themselves and their possibilities?