Category Archives: Poetry

Oh No, Another Great Poet Gone – Linda Gregg (1942- March 19th, 2019) – Her “Eyes Open, Uncovered to the Bone”

Each Thing Measured by the Same Sun Nothing to tell. Nothing to desire. A silence that is not unhappy. Who will guess I am not backing away? I am pleased every morning because the stones are cold, then warm in the sun. Sometimes wet. One, two, three days in a row. Easy to say yes […]

The Bigness of Small Poems – #46 in a Series – Crozier and Lane (and Tranströmer)

Two exquisite, yet for me enigmatic, poems by the Canadian poets Lorna Crozier and Patrick Lane, partners for more than forty years before Patrick’s death eleven days ago. This broadsheet hangs in my home office and I revisit it now again. And every time I feel happily lost in a lyric mysteriousness, much the way […]

The Bigness of Small Poems – # 45 in a Series – A Small Gem by Patrick Lane (1939-2019)

The benefit of cleaning up a chaotic office! Finding this exquisite small poem by Patrick Lane. As I remember him telling me, and here my memory may be a touch thin in places, this poem was part of a larger piece and his “Beloved”, Lorna Crozier, told him this was the poem! I appreciate the […]

A Poem and a Blues Hurting Song – Haunted and Haunting Words from Patrick Lane’s Hard, Hard Days

ASSINIBOINE Deep summer nights and you, far off, quiet in the dawn. That last morning the mute swans were on the river and I was unclean. I placed hot stones in water as you told me of the old people beside the slow current singing. If I look hard enough I believe I can see […]

The Desolate “Isness” of Addiction – A Poem by Patrick Lane

Half-Hearted Moon Sometimes I don’t feel anything. It’s best to be with people when I do. I stare across the coke and whiskey at Jimmy and Moon. We are talking about nothing. The half-hearted night stumbles up the cracked pane and no one cares. Moon is crying and there is nothing I can do. She […]

Remembering Patrick Lane (1939-2019) – A Poem

Fear and Reading Reading Patrick Lane again, hearing Faulkner: Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! So I read Lane’s lines, and wander behind them, not like a soldier, rifle at the ready, not sure of friend or foe, but curious about an image I fear. Lane, talking […]

Patrick Lane R.I.P. (March 26th, 1939 – March 7th, 2019)

When I Sleep When I sleep the birds come to the garden With their gifts of seeds out of ice Last year’s leaves of grass lift into night. All my songs have been one song. The palm of my hand and the sole of my foot remember everything I have forgotten. The old lantern by […]

The Bigness of Small Poems – # 44 in a series – Joy, Not Meant To Be a Crumb

Days What are days for? Days are where we live. They come, they wake us Time and time over. They are to be happy in: Where can we live but days? Ah, solving that question Brings the priest and the doctor In their long coats Running over the fields. 3 August, 1953 Philip Larkin, from […]

Two Poems – How Can We Prepare for Our Losses? – One Poem Each By Keetje Kuipers and Jane Hirschfield

Anemoia Not yet old enough to read, and already my daughter’s learned nostalgia by example, what to feel at a loon’s call or when passing a blue door, how the sky just before nightfall turns like a vulnerable animal showing its belly. She misses the dog who died before she was born, the town we […]

Lyric Narrative Spell-Casting – Three Poems of Linda K. Thompson

And the Light Already Turning I worry about Father. Do not know which way his body faces in the grave. Does he look out to the Ryan or south to Mount Currie? On the farm, only one birch, far out towards the river, shone like the edge of a galaxy. I am tired and I […]