tenth birthday’s no big deal. Sure, you hit double digits, but it’s not like when you become a teenager or hit those high, round decades people lie about. Unless, of course, you’re a poetry group that convenes in a gallery. … Continue reading
I was meeting with powerhouse writer, publisher, Laureate Emerita Candice James in the literary city of New Westminster, BC’s former capital. Silver Bow Press is the company she runs, having taken over a four-title-a-year publisher and grown production to twenty new books a year - novels and poetry. Next year she anticipates bringing thirty select books to print. The list of submissions is extensive, the majority of it exceptional work from established authors.
April is National Poetry Month. This year’s theme, A World of Poetry. A world of poetry. This, I understand. Being witness to stomped-verse haka in Waitangi, the lyrical thrum of Outback didgeridoo, breathy sax in a wet London underpass, red slashed characters on a mud wall in Hebei, tanka blurred through joss smoke in Kyoto, rantings of a street poet in Times Square, the guttural slur of a Greenlandic hymn, and a master’s spoken-word reverberating on old timber, sibilant sea hissing through cracked glass