Ottawa ON: Being that he was last year’s winner of the John Newlove Poetry Award (as judged by Erin Mouré), Bywords.ca recently launched Roland Prevost’s first chapbook, Metafizz (Ottawa ON: A Bywords Publication). I’ve been enjoying watching Prevost’s poetry develop over the past two years, watching him engage in that “serious play” of writing poems.
not just the crook but the crime, never apprehended
in human equivalent chrysalis years, sooner charges laid
a wasp’s nest, grey paper long abandoned, on embers flashes
after the flames, a silence as empty, flecks spirals up
tomorrow, we’re told, a slight drizzling rain
will ride in on an unusual south-easter
Here’s what Mouré said about Prevost’s prize-winning poem, “at the pizzeria : 100% real juice”: “a poem that makes its references deft and plays in language in a kind of delight, without complicating thoughts on behalf of the reader or steering the reader or telling the reader what to think… which leaves space for the reader to be delighted too. Tis a poem that is fully realized: intention and execution coincide.” [note that Prevost reads at the Sasquatch Reading Series in Ottawa on November 25]
[l-r (foreground) Colin Martin, jwcurry]
Calgary AB: Now that he lives in Montreal, former Calgarian Colin Martin was able to come visit us during our little fair, and handed me the first three issues of his NōD, fall 2005-spring 2006, produced by the English Literature Student’s Society at the University of Calgary. I’ve only been hearing about this little mag since it was invented, but had never actually seen copies before. An attractive journal, NōD is perfect-bound, and the first three issues include work both text and visual-based by a whole slew of the Calgary crew and beyond, including derek beaulieu, Jonathan Ball, Jordan Nail, kevin mcpherson eckhoff, Monique Fournier, Anne Burke, ryan fitzpatrick, Peter Norman, Louise Bak, Myna Wallin, Daniel Scott Tysdal, Ken Kalman, Aaron Giovannone, Brea Burton, Chris Ewart, Christopher Blais, Christian Bök, Melanie Faith and Lawrence Upton. Some of the visual translations are particularly interesting (but I won’t tell you by who, just to be difficult); NōD provides an interesting intersection with what other publications in Calgary have been doing over the past few years, including that dANDelion and filling Station.
Between Cotton and Candy
I hate cigarettes; I like boxes.
Fluffy grain dig botox crosswalk face.
I hate janitors; I like white bread.
Torrid argyle crapshoot candy floss.
I hate pants; I like requirement.
Cracker conduction polio aisle Volvo.
I hate bondage; I like Diet Coke.
Drunk custom vinyl hedonist candy apple.
I hate ethnic; I like orange drink.
Comp boot frosting opaque processed. (ryan fitzpatrick, issue #1)
Apparently they still exist, and you can even subscribe (or submit); write them c/o ELSS, University of Calgary, Department of English, 2500 University Drive NW, Calgary AB T2T 1N4 or email them at email@example.com
Your smile is deaf sweetly.
May ingenious creativity
sprouting out of your hands
tickle oddly muted lusts and perfect stares.
Circum to a riot of pleasure
beats to the heart pulling tug-of-war
thoughts. (Danielle Arsenault, issue #2)
SAND PEOPLE, SINGLE FILE
flickers of porcelain in water
alludes to crane of neck
a glistening recession
a mud mask
a flask of hope
someone taps us on the
shore using rustic
what did they cover those
elephants with anyway
clogging the rest of our
afternoon with rashes
eyelashes, rehabilitate in
the lintless sun, not much to
see out here anyway
I was born here remember
you’re going to die here
convenient you say:
protect pigments nurture figments
embellish the grain, we negotiate
a textured fear, sarlacc because its familiar
force famine suntan over-easy
pigments mint, medium rare,
harvest erotic balm, digestive hum:
fear more than the pit of our stomachs
tell me the difference
more of us is fools
more of us is angels
known to be angels
crumbs for the city birds
this isn’t avarice it’s realism
pouring through me like holy water
the liquor is strong
sun shadows these pages
where you’ll find the spirit
sitting here the morning after saturday night
i’ve got words & you won’t like ‘em
their eyes try to make beggars of us all
too hot for their hands
fancy cameras Styrofoam cups
why won’t these tourists move
queen of the shopping carts
saint ursula they call me
i can do
just about the most holy thing
drinking guinness on a sunday morning