Kevin Spenst’s Ignite

IGNITECoversquare.jpgI know I know – you’re tired of hearing about the inimitable Spenst.  The Vancouver luminary, however, has released a new book of poetry!  Ignite explores his father’s mental illness, being raised Mennonite, elegy, and, and, and.  Just stop reading this and go read that.

Buy it here or at your local bookstore.  Now.

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Vancouver Poetry Crawl Rules!

What a day.  I couldn’t make all the events, but those that I did were, without exception, very talented folks.  Geoff Nilson read from his new chapbook We Have to Look, Shannon Rayne read several published pieces, Elee Kraljii Gardiner read from her brand-spankin new book, Serpentine Loop (out now from Anvil), and Jennifer Zilm read from her new book Waiting Room (BookThug).  We were also treated to new poems from Leah Horlick, and Cecily Nicholson took over Artspeak with her phenomenal poems and voice.  Already looking forward to next year, and hoping that organizer Kevin Spenst is doing well after a health scare…

xoxo

m.

Jack Spicer.

spicer“Imagine Lucifer . . .”

Imagine Lucifer
An angel without angelness
An apple
Plucked clear by will of taste, color,
Strength, beauty, roundness, seed
Absent of all God painted, present everything
An apple is.
Imagine Lucifer
An angel without angelness
A poem
That has revised itself out of sound
Imagine, rhyme, concordance
Absent of all God spoke of, present everything
A poem is.
                            The law I say, the Law
Is?
What is Lucifer
An emperor with no clothes
No skin, no flesh, no heart
An emperor!
-Jack Spicer

Robert Creeley

CreeleyThis man rarely leaves my mind, or my pen.  As I work towards an understanding (read: impossibility of grasping air) of how remembering works, and with my mother’s fading memory, this poem cuts into my mind and leaves its own stones.

 

“I Keep to Myself Such Measures…”

I keep to myself such
measures as I care for,
daily the rocks
accumulate position.

There is nothing
but what thinking makes
it less tangible. The mind,
fast as it goes, loses

pace, puts in place of it
like rocks simple markers,
for a way only to
hopefully come back to

where it cannot. All
forgets. My mind sinks.
I hold in both hands such weight
it is my only description.

Real Vancouver Writers Series this Friday!

real vancReal Vancouver Writers’ Series returns in 2016 with our annual anniversary showcase on Friday February 26th at Chinatown’s The Playground (thisopenspace) located at 434 Columbia Street in Vancouver’s DTES.

The showcase is also coinciding with Freedom to Read Week and we’re happy to partner with this great organization to reaffirm our commitment to making terrible jokes and slurry proclamations, or, um, intellectual freedom, as it is guaranteed to all Canadians under the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. We take our jokes seriously and we hope you won’t laugh.

The stellar line-up includes:

Chelene Knight, author of Braided Skin, Mother Tongue Publishing.
Billeh Nickerson, author of Artificial Cherry, Arsenal Pulp Press.
Rahat Kurd, author of Cosmophilia, Talon Books.
Annelyse Gelman, author of Everyone I Love is a Stranger to Someone, published independently.
Beni Xiao, author of poems and things as yet uncollected and released upon the world.
Billie Livingston, author of The Crooked Heart of Mercy, published by Penguin Random House of Canada.

So take that cold and indifferent grip of winter!

As always admission to the event is by donation and nobody will ever be turned away for lack of funds.

Real Vancouver Writers’ Series is a volunteer-run independent non-profit society that produces 4 to 6 events a year showcasing the work of writers from Vancouver and beyond. We provide a welcome and convivial atmosphere to enjoy great writing and great people together in one room.

And there’s always books and beer.

Late Winter Poem no. 13

hello dust

and fragrance

of concrete

february is the kindest month, breeding

regeneration out of the cold

flicker of pulse across the wasteland

a hand outstretched towards oblivion

and your hand

we drank coffee in the terminal

and rode the train

where you felt confined and impatient

the mountains in the distance

full of judgement and snow.

(Vancouver, 2016)